Taipei

Under a smoky Taiwanese sky, you'll find yourself elbow-to-elbow with a thousand hopeful strangers, each clutching delicate paper lanterns scrawled with their most earnest desires-from grandiose life ambitions to oddly specific pleas like "more Instagram followers" or "a tolerable mother-in-law." This is Pingxi; once a humble mining town, now the uncontested capital of airborne wishful thinking. Each February, during the iconic Sky Lantern Festival, crowds converge at dusk, turning the night into a mesmerizing, flaming constellation that's equal parts breathtaking tradition and mild fire hazard. (A word to the wise: go early in the evening, secure your lantern around sunset, and budget roughly NT$200-300-cheap for wish fulfillment.) Bring a marker and your best creative flair, and maybe a pocket extinguisher if you're anxious. Yes, your lantern may wobble, catch fire prematurely, or plummet gracelessly-a poetic testament to life's inevitable disappointments-but the spectacle alone is worth it. After all, there's a reason National Geographic crowned this one of the best festivals worldwide, and even if your wish doesn't come true, at least you'll have photographic proof you tried.

If the term "skyscraper" ever strikes you as bland, predictable, or corporate-think again. Taipei 101 stands proudly over Xinyi like a giant jade-green bamboo stalk on steroids, once reigning supreme as the world's tallest building until Dubai inevitably out-glitzed it. Venture inside, dodge the fashionistas and selfie-takers, and rocket up 89 floors in a high-speed elevator that'll pop your ears faster than airline peanuts at altitude. Go around sunset-because nothing says "I'm sophisticated yet vaguely romantic" like watching Taipei's neon chaos shift gears from daytime frenzy to electric-night glitter. Book tickets online a few days ahead, whisk past the lines, and budget around NT$600. Pro tip: don't forget some chewing gum to cope with the ear pressure, your camera for proof of bravery, and maybe your courage if heights aren't exactly your jam. Sure, it's touristy, pricey, and your Instagram followers have probably seen it all before, but trust me, you haven't lived until you've hovered above Taipei's futuristic cityscape, swayed gently in a building designed to dance with earthquakes, and whispered sweet obscenities into the dizzying abyss below.

Taroko Gorge isn't just another picturesque postcard; it's Mother Nature's bold, relentless sculpture project-a dizzying blend of marble cliffs, misty mountains, and temples so dramatically perched you wonder if their architects were blessed with courage or cursed with vertigo. Located just outside the sleepy eastern town of Hualien, this Taiwanese marvel feels less like a casual day trip and more like stumbling through an epic Lord of the Rings backstory-minus all the hobbits but with equally treacherous tunnels and narrow paths that'll test your nerves and Instagram-gutsiness alike. Go early-before the crowds of selfie-stick wielding tour groups arrive-and savor the way sunrise paints these sheer marble cliffs gold, pink, and sepia, like some divine watercolor. Plan at least a week or two ahead if you want to secure comfortable transport (trains and private drivers book quick) and budget around $30-50 USD per person to keep yourself fed and caffeinated (essential survival gear) as you explore. Pack sturdy shoes, bug spray, snacks you recognize, and your bravest face, because those tunnels get awe-inspiringly dark and bats are unnervingly punctual residents. Ultimately, Taroko Gorge is worth every slightly nerve-jangling moment-not just for the incredible vistas, culture, or bragging rights, but because "Yeah, I've wandered through tunnels carved by dynamite into marble mountainsides in Taiwan" is a story that never gets old over beers.