The temple bells were still ringing when the fog lifted off the mountainside. I remember standing there in a courtyard outside Taipei thinking that nobody back home would believe this was Taiwan. That’s the part nobody tells you. Some of the best things to do in Taiwan never make it onto a postcard. This island spends most of its time getting overlooked by travelers who assume Southeast Asia starts and ends with Bali and Thailand. Taiwan is quieter about itself. It doesn’t shout. But once you’ve stood in that fog, or eaten street food so good you stop mid bite to laugh, you understand why the people who have been keep going back. They rarely bring it up at dinner parties though, because some places you want to keep a little bit to yourself.
This is the list I’d hand a friend across the table from me, as we are drinking wine. The one where I tell her exactly where to go, what to skip, and which mornings are worth setting an alarm for.

I once talked to a woman who landed in Taipei in the middle of August with a suitcase full of light dresses and an itinerary built for long walks through old neighborhoods. By day two, she’d rearranged the whole week around air-conditioned museums and iced tea stands, because the heat and humidity had flattened every plan she’d made from her kitchen table back home.
Then there’s the version of that same trip taken in late October, when the air turns crisp in the mountains, the humidity finally breaks, and every outdoor plan she’d originally imagined becomes possible again.
The best time to visit Taiwan sits in two windows: October through December, and March through April. Both dodge the worst of the summer heat and the typhoon season that tends to settle over the island between June and September.
If a festival matters to you, the Lantern Festival in February and the Dragon Boat Festival in early summer are worth building a trip around on purpose. Although, they come with bigger crowds.
Many of the best things to do in Taiwan depend heavily on season, especially the routes through the mountains. So, getting your travel window right shapes the rest of the trip more than most people expect.
Shoulder season travelers get the version of Taiwan I described in that courtyard: Quiet, clear, and easy to fall for.
Every guidebook has an opinion about the top attractions in Taiwan, but most of them read like inventory lists. They give you a name, a photo, and a star rating. I want to walk you through the must-see places in Taiwan the way I’d describe them if you were sitting across from me, because half of what makes these places extraordinary is not what they look like in a photo. It’s what it feels like to stand inside them.
Here are the ten best things to do in Taiwan that earned a permanent spot in my memory and will likely earn one in yours.

The road into Taroko Gorge, Taiwan narrows so gradually that you don’t notice the marble walls closing in around you until someone in the car goes quiet mid-sentence. One minute you’re driving along the coast outside Hualien with the Pacific still visible in the rearview mirror. Next, the road has folded itself into a canyon carved by the Liwu River over millions of years. Water and stone worked against each other long before anyone thought to build a road through it at all. The marble here isn’t the polished kind you’d see in a lobby. It’s raw, striped in blue and white and pale green. And it rises so steep on either side that sunlight only reaches the canyon floor for a few hours around midday.
Stop first at the Eternal Spring Shrine. It is a small red pagoda tucked into the cliff face with a waterfall running directly beneath it. The waterfall is close enough that mist drifts across the path.
Further in, the road passes through Swallow Grotto, where the cliff walls pull in tight enough that you can hear your own footsteps echo off the marble. There are swallows that once nested in the pockmarked stone in numbers large enough to give the spot its name.
The Truku people have lived in this gorge for generations, long before the road existed. Their history is woven into the canyon in ways most visitors only catch a glimpse of on a rushed drive through.
Give Taroko at least half a day and resist the urge to see it only from a car window. The Shakadang Trail follows the riverbed on a flat, easy path. It is close enough to the water that you can watch its color shift from jade to turquoise depending on the light.
For something shorter, the walkway through Swallow Grotto takes less than twenty minutes but delivers the gorge’s most dramatic scale in the smallest amount of time. Rushing it is the one mistake most first-time visitors make. Don’t treat the gorge as a photo stop between Hualien and the next item on the list, because Taroko rewards the traveler willing to stand still and let the scale of it sink in.
Sun Moon Lake, Taiwan looks like two different bodies of water depending on when you arrive. And I mean that literally, not as a figure of speech.
At sunrise, mist sits low over the surface and the mountains around it seem to float, disconnected from the ground. The whole basin is quiet except for the occasional call of a bird crossing the water. Stand at the shore that early and it’s easy to believe you’re the only person on the lake, even though thousands of visitors will pass through by evening.
By midafternoon, the same lake turns bright turquoise under full sun. It is dotted with small boats crossing toward Wenwu Temple on the far shore. The red pillars are visible from nearly anywhere around the water.
Locals will tell you the lake earned its name from its shape. It is round like the sun on one side and crescent like a moon on the other. The lake is split by a narrow peninsula near Lalu Island. That area is a small but sacred site to the Thao indigenous people who have called this area home far longer than the lake has been a destination for anyone else.
The lake rewards travelers who get off the shoreline and onto it. Ride the cable car up to Formosan Aboriginal Culture Village for a wider view of the whole basin. This view makes the lake’s sun and moon shape suddenly make sense from above.
Or rent a bike and ride the lakeside path that hugs the water for nearly thirty kilometers. This path is considered by many cyclists to be one of the most scenic rides in Asia. It is flat enough for a beginner and scenic enough that nobody minds going slow.
A boat crossing to Wenwu Temple takes less than fifteen minutes but changes the whole vantage point. It puts the mountains behind you instead of in front, so you finally see the lake the way the temple has been seeing it for centuries.
Nothing quite prepares you for the pressure change in your ears as the elevator inside Taipei 101 climbs 89 floors in under 40 seconds. Your ears will pop somewhere around floor 50 while the numbers on the display blur past too fast to read.
Then the doors open, and the entire city of Taipei spreads out below you, lit up and humming, a grid of light stretching toward mountains you can just make out at the edges of the dark.
Go at dusk if you can. This will allow you to catch the skyline in daylight first. Then watch the light change color for over twenty or thirty minutes, before seeing the city shift into a carpet of light as the sun drops behind the mountains to the west. Few views change that dramatically in front of you while you’re standing still.
Inside, look for the massive steel wind damper suspended between floors 87 and 92. It is a gold sphere the size of a small building engineered to keep the tower stable in typhoon winds and earthquakes. It swings almost imperceptibly if the building sways.
It’s an odd thing to find beautiful, a piece of structural engineering, but standing next to something that heavy, suspended that high, has a way of making the whole building feel more remarkable rather than less.
I met a family once who nearly missed the whole thing because they assumed they could walk up and buy Taipei 101 observation deck tickets on the spot during a holiday weekend. The line wrapped the block, and by the time they reached the counter, the sunset slot they’d been counting on for their trip was long gone.
Book ahead online. Especially if you want that dusk timing, since those slots sell out first. The difference between watching the skyline glow gold from the deck and standing in a stairwell instead comes down to a five-minute reservation made days in advance.

By late afternoon, the lanterns strung above Jiufen Old Street, Taiwan start to glow just as fog begins rolling in off the mountainside. The whole hillside town takes on the look people usually describe from a film rather than a real place.
Jiufen was once a gold mining town. Its narrow alleys built into the mountain during a boom that ended decades ago. It left behind a maze of stone steps and red lanterned lined passages that never quite returned to being just a town again.
Climb the narrow stone steps past shops selling taro balls and preserved fruit. Go past vendors calling out over the smell of frying dough. You’ll discover the crowd thickens the closer you get to the main viewpoint over the coast.
Duck into one of the old teahouses overlooking the valley, where you can order a pot of oolong and watch the fog thicken over the rooftops below. The whole scene softening into something closer to a memory than a place you’re actually standing in.
Some of these teahouses have been open for generations, their wooden balconies worn smooth by decades of visitors leaning against the railing to watch the same view.
Jiufen gets crowded fast once tour buses arrive midmorning. So, early morning or early evening gives you the town at its most atmospheric, before or after the crowds pass through. If you can manage it, stay until after dark. This is when the lanterns are the only light source in the narrow alleys and the town empties out just enough to feel like it belongs to you again.
I watched a grandmother pull her grandson closer by the shoulder in front of the jade cabbage at the National Palace Museum, Taipei. Both of them were leaning in to study the carved insect hidden in the leaves as though nobody had ever shown them anything so precise. The jade cabbage is small, barely the size of a hand. But the detail carved into it, a cricket and a locust tucked among the leaves, has made it one of the most photographed objects in the museum’s collection. The crowd around its display case rarely thins.
The museum holds one of the largest collections of Chinese imperial artifacts anywhere in the world, spanning nearly 8,000 years. Much of it was brought from the mainland decades ago. It is now housed in a building that itself feels like a piece of history, terraced up on a hillside north of the city with gardens surrounding it.
Walk past the ceramics from dynasties that predate most of what’s taught in a typical world history class. Go past scroll paintings so detailed they reward a magnifying glass. Then check out the bronze vessels that once held offerings in rituals nobody alive remembers firsthand.
A visit rewards slow walking far more than a rushed checklist tour. The galleries are large enough that even a crowded day never feels as packed as it looks from the entrance hall.
Buy National Palace Museum Taipei tickets online before you go. I recommend choosing a weekday morning if your schedule allows it. I’ve seen the difference between a visit where you’re gently pulled along a hallway by a wave of tour groups, barely getting a glimpse of the case before being pushed toward the next room, and one where you get to stand alone in front of the jade cabbage the way that grandmother and grandson did, close enough to see the artist’s chisel marks. It comes down entirely to timing, and a slightly earlier alarm than you’d like.
The Alishan sunrise train leaves before dawn, climbing through cold mountain air on narrow tracks laid more than a century ago by loggers moving cypress timber down from the high forest. The train itself feels like a piece of that history. Small carriages swaying gently as they climb switchbacks cut into the mountainside. Passengers wrapped in blankets and holding cups of hot tea bought from a platform vendor before boarding.
Somewhere near the summit, the sky starts to lighten behind a sea of clouds that fills the valley below like poured milk. The peaks of neighboring mountains poking through the white like islands.
Passengers who were half asleep twenty minutes earlier find themselves standing, cameras forgotten in coat pockets. They simply watch the light change from grey to pink to full gold as the sun clears the cloud line. It’s the kind of sunrise that makes strangers on a train start talking to each other. Everyone is equally stunned and nobody is quite prepared for how much color moves across the sky in such a short span of time.
Alishan’s cypress forests and small mountain villages are worth an overnight stay if your schedule allows it. Especially since the sunrise is only the beginning of what the mountain has to offer.
Walk among trees that have stood for a thousand years or more, their trunks wider than a car. The moss climbing up bark that’s outlived generations of people who’ve hiked past it. The air up here smells different too. Cool and faintly of cypress, nothing like the humidity waiting back down in the lowlands.

Drive far enough south and the mountain air gives way, almost without warning, to salt air and the sound of waves against Kenting’s beaches. This is a stretch of coastline that most first-time visitors never realize Taiwan has. The shift happens fast. One hour you’re still thinking about temples and night markets. The next hour, the road opens up along a coastline that looks more like something out of Southeast Asia than the industrial cities most people picture when they think of Taiwan.
Kenting National Park mixes coral reefs, coastal cliffs, and a laid-back beach town energy that feels worlds away from Taipei’s density. Snorkel over reefs just offshore, where the water runs clear enough to see fish moving between coral without needing to go far from the beach at all. Or drive out to Eluanbi, where a lighthouse marks the southernmost point of the island. The wind picks up hard enough off the Bashi Channel that you’ll want a jacket even on a warm day.
Kenting also proves that the best things to do in Taiwan aren’t only about mountains and temples.
The town itself runs on beach time. A strip of restaurants and surf shops that gets livelier after dark, when the heat of the day finally breaks and everyone spills outside. Surf a little. Snorkel a little. Or just sit somewhere with your feet in warm sand and let the pace of the trip slow all the way down for a day or two. Something almost nobody plans enough time for on a first visit to the island.
Shilin Night Market hits you in the nose before it hits you anywhere else. The smell of grilled skewers and stinky tofu and sugar syrup all tangled together in the steam rising off a hundred food stalls packed shoulder to shoulder. The market sprawls across an underground food hall and the surrounding streets above it. It is so large that first-time visitors often spend twenty minutes just walking before deciding where to actually stop and eat. They are overwhelmed by the sheer number of options competing for attention at once.
Follow the crowd rather than a map here. Order something you can’t identify. Whether that’s a fried chicken cutlet bigger than your face, a bowl of oyster noodles, or a cup of bubble tea shaken right in front of you.
Vendors call out over each other. The smell shifts every ten feet from sweet to savory to something sharper you can’t quite place. And the noise of it all somehow settles into something closer to music than chaos once you’ve been in it for a while.
Taiwan’s night market culture reaches its loudest, most chaotic, most joyful expression at Shilin. The only real strategy is showing up hungry and letting the market decide what happens next.
Come on an empty stomach. Wear shoes you don’t mind getting a little sticky. And give yourself at least two hours, because the market has a way of pulling you three stalls further than you meant to go every single time.

After a night at the market, Beitou is the quiet on the other side of the noise. Public and private hot spring baths sit tucked into the hills just north of the city. They are fed by volcanic activity that still steams visibly off Thermal Valley’s surface. Think of a milky green pool so hot near its source that even standing at the railing above it, you can feel the heat rising off the water.
The neighborhood grew around these springs more than a century ago and the architecture still shows it. Old bathhouses with wooden lattice work sitting alongside newer buildings. They all serve the same purpose the area has always served.
Soak somewhere outdoors if you can. Choose a spot under the trees, with the city’s hum reduced to almost nothing behind the mountains. The steam will curl up around you while the water works whatever ache you brought with you out of your shoulders.
Some baths are public, communal, and unpretentious in the way that only truly local places manage to stay. Others sit more privately behind hotel walls, quieter and more contained.
Either way, it’s the kind of stop that resets an entire trip. A little reminder partway through a busy itinerary that Taiwan is just as good at slowing you down as it is at keeping you moving.
Few first-time visitors make it out to Hualien and Taitung. This is where the coastline turns dramatic with cliffs dropping straight into the Pacific with almost no development in between. This stretch of Taiwan feels closer to New Zealand’s coast than anything most people associate with a small, densely populated island. Empty stretches of highway running for miles with nothing but ocean on one side and mountain on the other.
It’s proof that the best things to do in Taiwan aren’t confined to the cities at all.
Rent a scooter, follow the coastal highway, and stop wherever the view stops you first. Remember, this is not a region that rewards a rigid schedule.
Small fishing villages appear along the route with little warning. Their harbors are quiet except for a handful of boats and the sound of gulls. Inland, Taitung’s Rift Valley opens into rice paddies that turn a brilliant, almost unnatural green depending on the season. They are framed by mountains on both sides in a way that makes the whole valley feel like a room with the roof left open.
This part of the island moves slower than anywhere else on this list. And that’s the entire point of going. Indigenous communities across the east coast, including the Amis people, have deep roots here that predate the highway by centuries. Their presence still shapes the region’s food, festivals, and rhythm in ways a rushed day trip can’t fully capture.
Give this coastline more time than you think you need. It rarely disappoints anyone who does.
Every list like this leaves things out, usually on purpose. These next two are not on the official top attractions in Taiwan lists you’ll find everywhere else. But they might be the two I recommend most often when someone asks me, in person, what to add if they have extra time. Some of the best things to do in Taiwan are the places nobody put on a laminated tourist map.

A five-minute ferry ride from Kaohsiung harbor drops you on Cijin Island, where scooters give way to bicycles and the smell of grilled squid drifts off food stalls lining the main street. Black sand beaches stretch along the coast. A lighthouse at the island’s northern tip gives you a view back toward the mainland that most visitors to southern Taiwan never bother to see.
Rent a bike, ride the length of the island, and eat lunch with your feet nearly in the sand. Cijin moves at a pace that feels like it belongs to a different decade entirely.
High in the mountains near Sun Moon Lake, Cingjing Farm breaks every assumption a first-time visitor might carry about what Taiwan looks like. Sheep graze on green slopes that feel closer to the Alps than to a subtropical island. Fog rolls through the hills in slow moving sheets that can swallow the whole view in minutes and clear it again just as fast.
The air runs cold enough here to need a jacket, even in months when Taipei sits sweating in humidity below. It’s the one stop on this list that consistently surprises people the most.
Every Taiwan travel itinerary starts with the same question, and it’s almost always the wrong first question. People ask how many days they need.
The better question is what kind of trip they’re trying to build, because a five-day itinerary focused entirely on Taipei looks nothing like a twelve-day loop around the island. Yet, both can be the right answer depending on who’s traveling.
Building a Taiwan travel itinerary really means deciding which of the best things to do in Taiwan matter most to you, and which you’re willing to save for next time.
A Taiwan itinerary for first time visitors works best with Taipei as the anchor for the first three or four days, since the city holds Taipei 101, the National Palace Museum, and Shilin Night Market within a short subway ride of each other. From there, most first timers branch out toward either Taroko Gorge on the east coast or Sun Moon Lake and Alishan in the central mountains, rather than trying to reach both on a single trip.
The best Taiwan family vacation ideas share one thing in common: They build in downtime. A family with a grandparent, tired parents, and antsy kids needs a different pace than a couple traveling alone. The stops on this list flex easily to fit either.
Sun Moon Lake’s bike path and boat rides suit multiple generations at once, since nobody is forced into a strenuous hike to enjoy the view. Taroko Gorge offers an easy riverside walk for grandparents alongside more demanding trails for teenagers who want to move faster.
And for the woman traveling on her own terms, whether that’s a mother taking a solo week away or a woman building an entire trip around herself, Taiwan’s cities feel safe to walk after dark. Its trains make solo travel between regions simple enough that confidence builds fast.
These are some of the best things to do in Taiwan no matter which generation, or how many, you’re traveling with.
If your Taiwan bucket list was empty an hour ago, I hope it isn’t anymore. This is the island I’d choose over a dozen more famous destinations. The one I keep returning to in conversation long after the trip ends, because it never stops giving you something new to notice. Whether you have five days or three weeks, whether you’re traveling with grandparents or entirely on your own, these are the best things to do in Taiwan. The ones worth building a whole trip around. Go stand in that fog. I promise you’ll understand exactly why I never bring it up at dinner parties either, until now.
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Tracy is the owner of Elite Travel Journeys, a luxury travel agency dedicated to crafting extraordinary, memory-making journeys for families, multigenerational groups, empty nesters, and solo female travelers. A proud military veteran and President of the Central PA Chapter of ASTA, Tracy brings both discipline and deep passion to everything she does. With a particular love for river cruising, especially Europe’s enchanting Christmas Markets, she has been turning travel dreams into life-changing experiences since 2014. Tracy believes that extraordinary travel doesn’t just take you somewhere new; it changes who you are.
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