Writing about this last trip has been hard: the irony of having traveled to Asia one last time exactly when all this mess we’re in right now was just starting. I’m emotionally conflicted: sometimes I feel like I’m honoring all the precious moments I experienced by carefully remembering and writing about them; at other times, I feel like I’m being inappropriate, writing about what now seems so meaningless, superfluous and pointless. But I suppose that there are a lot of things that feel contradictory right now and that shouldn’t stop us from expressing them, so here goes.

After my trip to Japan, I came back to Portugal to cook for the Mymarini retreat in Alentejo. Thanks to my generous friend and surf buddy Maria, from Cabeça da Cabra Guesthouse, I ended up staying in Porto Covo for another week for some of the best surfing sessions of the year.

By the beginning of November, it was time to go back to Asia, this time to Hong Kong. Hong Kong has a very special place in my heart. My grandfather’s family was a Portuguese family that immigrated to China a few centuries ago, having lived in several Chinese cities, and lastly in the former Portuguese colony of Macau. My grandfather used to spend his holidays in Hong Kong, and of course, had many friends there. He and most of the family eventually left Macau and spread all over the world, Portugal being one of the countries where some members, my grandfather included, settled for the rest of their lives. This means that the Asian culture has always been present in my life, and interestingly enough, it keeps on being present through people other than my family.

This brings me to Claire, whom I met two years ago and has since became one of the most important persons in my life. A friend, mentor, and someone who’s a vison-holder for my spiritual journey, Claire, who’s been living in Hong Kong for many years and is herself half Chinese half Austrian, was the one who had this idea for my second trip to Asia. Although disguised as a work trip, where I would create a bespoke plant-based workshop for Claire and her friend Mimi, it was everything but work. I did work, but I also volunteered at the inspiring women-only event The Garden Gathering, where I cooked for 100+ women, I attended tea ceremonies, went to talks and meditations, potlucks, cocktails and dinner parties; I hiked, did a 3-day Vipassana course again, I met with old friends and I made new ones. It was a vibrant month, even amidst the protests, which created a lot sadness and disturbances.

By the beginning of December, as my returning to Portugal was approaching, my yearning to stay on that side of the world was only growing. Or maybe it was my resistance to coming back to Portugal for the holidays that was increasing... Either way, I decided to postpone my return flight for a month and go visit Taiwan.

Vibrant Taipei

“I can see you in Taiwan, it’s like a laid-back Japan”, said Claire when I mentioned I was going there. These words sort of stuck to my mind while visiting Taipei, because it felt exactly that: vibrant, colorful, busy, like any big Japanese city, but way more chaotic, messy and relaxed, or should I say unpretentious. It’s an exciting place in itself but it felt even more to me because of its unfamiliarity and remoteness. It’s not the kind of place of which you’ve seen a lot of pictures and fantasize about going there yourself, and that just added charm, surprise and delight to the experience.

I’ll never forget what I felt right after leaving my bags at the hotel and rushing to the bustling streets of Taipei: an overflowing thrill of being alone, wandering in a new place, with no plan, no expectations, just pure presence. It helped that I started my explorations in the evening; it seems that that’s the time when everything comes to life in any Taiwanese city or town. Right next to my hotel was the famous Dihua street with all its food stalls, selling tea cakes, weird mushrooms, and all sorts of dried delicacies, some looking more appetizing than others. From there, I walked to Ximending, where hundreds of people were lining to get their favorite Taiwanese delicacies: oyster omelets, bubble tea and fried everything-you-can-imagine. However, the real food scene everywhere in Taiwan happens at the night markets. In Taipei, I visited Ningxia and Shilin, which seem to be the most well-known ones. And speaking of culinary landmarks in Taipei, my adventures also included indulging in a bowl of beef noodles at Yong Kang, as a sort of tribute to Antony Bourdain given that it was one of his recommendations, and an afternoon tea at the infamous Wisteria Tea House, where I sipped a caramel-colored, fragrant Oolong tea called Oriental Beauty for hours. Sadly, I missed having dumplings at Din Tai Fung: the lines were tremendously discouraging at all their locations.

Coffee drinking my way around Taiwan

Even though Taiwan is better known for tea, with tea farms spread all over the island, the locals are absolutely crazy about coffee and can even embrace it as a form of expression and art. On my first morning in Taipei, I headed to Fong Da Coffee, a long-established coffeehouse in the city. The first thing you notice is the strong, comforting smell of roasted coffee beans, perceptible many steps before arriving to this small café. The place is packed with containers filled with different types of coffee beans, all sorts of coffee-brewing paraphernalia and countless cookie jars and boxes. It reminded me of Portuguese vintage cafes, and how the third wave of coffee is unnecessarily hyped. I very much appreciated having a plain cup of perfectly brewed coffee with a couple of cookies, and no birch furniture nor any kind of modern technology at sight. Although, to be honest, when it comes to coffee I’m up for anything, any setting, vibe, grinding technique, brewing method and what-not, and unexpectedly on this matter, Taiwan, not just Taipei, blew my mind. While it is more likely that a lot of hipster cafes like Simple Kaffa, Fika Fika and Mountain Kids Coffee, pop up in modern, busy cities like Taipei, I was amazed with the coffee scene in Hualien, a quiet little town on the east coast, in between the mountains and the ocean. I had gone there to visit Taroko National Park, one of the natural charms of the island, not thinking that I would stay more than a couple of nights. Yet, I ended up staying for almost a week – something that happens when you have time on your hands and no plans – happy as a bee, flying from Morning mountain to Caffe Fiore to Soave Plan.

Here’s a curiosity, common to many of the café spots I went to: the best ones open late in the morning and stay open until the evening, late evenings in some cases. I’m an early bird and these schedules really messed up my routine. I embraced it, nonetheless, and let the bohemian in me come up, having cups of coffee in the afternoon and dedicating myself to writing, like a 17thcentury intellectual. The place where I really took it to the limit was in Tainan, on the west coast, and the oldest city in Taiwan. I spent Christmas there, and just like it happened in Hualien, I wasn’t planning on staying more than two nights. I don’t know what triggers it or when it happens, I just know that there are places that despite being unfamiliar at first, quickly unleash the warmest sense of belonging. As I was wandering through a maze of dark, old, narrow streets in Tainan, I came across this small, enigmatic café, so secluded that I don’t even know how I got there in the first place, so small that it wouldn’t fit more than ten people, and so shamelessly presumptuous that it turned me away at first because the barista had to go for dinner “Come in an hour”, a guy said. I instantly knew I had to stay around and wait to go in for a cup of coffee, even though it was 7pm. The barista/owner was like an artist, brewing and serving coffee was his art; there was no wi-fi, and photography and loud noise weren’t allowed: this was a living coffee experience installation. It got me thinking about the difference between artists and artisans, how the most mundane action can be turned into an experience, a meditation, a meaningful moment. Could there be an essential wisdom here, a clue to figure out life in times to come?

Other adventures that colored this trip

I stayed in Taiwan for a month, not everything was amazing, nor was I in a state of awe all the time. What will follow is a list of random little moments that are hard to put together in a written narrative but worth sharing, like being the only visitor for quite some time at a Buddhist temple on the top of a mountain in Taroko Park, riding an empty train carriage, surfing in Jialeshui, a classic longboard surfing spot in Kenting Park that it first came to my attention while reading the Japanese magazine Honey, going for an epic bike ride just to get to Lumi café, also in Kenting Park, and coming back under extremely windy conditions and at night, which made me question my own sanity when it comes to coffeehouses exploration, grabbing coffee and a warm sweet potato for breakfast at convenience stores more times than I would have liked to but that still comforted me beyond anything else, eating loads of street food everywhere, mostly dumplings and Taiwanese egg pancakes, but also indulging in scrumptious vegetarian buffets, noodle-filled pastries and red bean cakes, drinking the most delicious soy milk I have ever tasted in Tainan, lingering in Dulan, an artsy expat community on the east coast, where nothing really happens besides real and couch surfing, visiting the country’s biggest Buddhist temple in Kaoshiung, and wandering in the mesmerizing Jiufen Old street.

For more tidbits about this trip check my Instagram stories here.