Taipei is a city that hides its best parts. If you just follow the top hits on TripAdvisor, you’re going to end up in a beige room in Xinyi paying $350 a night for a view of an office building. I know this because I’ve done it. In 2018, I tried to save some money by booking a ‘highly rated’ boutique place near Taipei Main Station. It was October, it was raining, and I arrived at 11 PM to find out my room had no windows. It was basically a carpeted coffin. I spent three nights in that humid box, waking up every morning completely disoriented because I couldn’t tell if it was 6 AM or noon. I felt like a lab rat. I actually cried a little bit while eating a cold pork bun from the 7-Eleven downstairs. That was the moment I stopped trusting ‘value’ rankings and started paying attention to how these places actually feel when you’re exhausted and just want to not hate your life.
The Mandarin Oriental is for people who want to feel like royalty
Look, if you have the money, the Mandarin Oriental is the objectively ‘best’ hotel in the city. But it’s weird. It’s located on Dunhua North Road, which is beautiful and lined with trees, but it’s not really ‘near’ anything you’d actually want to walk to. The lobby felt like a giant, gold-plated marshmallow. Everything is heavy, silent, and smells like expensive flowers. The service is—actually, let me put it differently: they treat you like you’re the most important person in the room until they see your shoes. I wore my beat-up Nikes in there once and the doorman gave me a look that made me feel like I’d just wiped my nose on the curtains.
The rooms are massive. I measured the bathtub at the one in Songshan—it’s nearly 1.9 meters long. You could fit a small horse in there. If you want to disappear from the world and pretend you’re a billionaire who doesn’t care about the MRT, stay here. If you want to actually see Taipei, you’ll spend half your life in Ubers. It’s a bubble. A very nice, very expensive bubble.
Worth every penny.
Why I will never, ever stay at the W Taipei again
I know people will disagree with me on this, and honestly, I don’t care. The W Taipei is a nightclub for people who peaked in 2012. It is loud. It is purple. Everything is shiny in a way that feels greasy. I stayed there for a work thing two years ago and I spent 42 minutes—I timed it—waiting for the elevators over the course of one morning because the ‘Woo Bar’ was having some event and the lift system is a total disaster. You have to take one elevator to the 10th floor, then transfer to another one to get to your room. It’s a logistical nightmare designed by someone who clearly hates guests with luggage.
The lighting in the rooms is the worst part. It’s all ‘mood lighting’ which means you can’t actually see if your clothes are clean or if you’ve successfully shaved your face. I left the hotel looking like a hobo because I couldn’t see anything in the mirror.
Also, the pool is basically a scene from a reality show you’d turn off after five minutes. If you enjoy paying $400 a night to feel like you’re not cool enough to be in your own hotel, go for it. For me? Never again.
The actually good middle ground: Kimpton Da’an
This is my favorite spot. Period. It’s tucked away in an alley in Da’an, which is the best neighborhood in Taipei for just… existing. You walk out the door and you’re 30 seconds away from a dozen tiny coffee shops and a breakfast place that sells the best danbing you’ll ever eat. The design is clean, white, and doesn’t try too hard.
I’m convinced the water in Da’an makes your hair softer. I might be wrong about this, but I swear my hair looks better after three days at the Kimpton. I tested the water pressure in my room (Room 1106) and it hit 4.2 bars. That’s enough to peel the skin off your back if you turn it up all the way. It’s glorious. They also have a social hour with free wine in the evening. I once sat there for two hours talking to a guy who designed semiconductor chips and we ended up arguing about the best way to cook a steak. That’s the kind of vibe this place has. It feels like a home, not a transit hub.
Anyway, I should probably mention the breakfast. They have this restaurant on the roof called The Tavernist. It’s fine, but honestly, just go outside. There is a 7-Eleven on the corner.
Actually, let’s talk about 7-Eleven for a second. In Taiwan, it’s not just a convenience store. It’s a lifestyle. You can pay your taxes there. You can ship packages. You can buy a decent tea egg for 10 TWD. I once spent an entire rainy afternoon sitting in the window of a 7-Eleven in Xinyi just watching people struggle with their umbrellas. It was the most relaxing part of my trip. But I digress.
The “Cheap” options that don’t suck
If you aren’t on a corporate budget, look at Roaders Plus. It’s right by the station. It’s quirky, maybe a bit too much ‘stuff’ in the lobby, but the rooms are high up and the views of the city are actually better than what you get at the five-star joints. Or try CitizenM at North Gate. It’s tiny. Like, really tiny. If you’re over six feet tall, you’re going to hit your head on something. But the iPad controls everything and the window takes up the whole wall. It’s efficient. It’s cheap. It works.
One thing though: avoid the ’boutique’ hotels in Ximending that look like they were decorated by a color-blind teenager. I stayed at one that had a literal swing in the room instead of a chair. Do you know how hard it is to put on socks while sitting on a moving swing? It’s a safety hazard. I almost broke my ankle. Total lie.
The Old School: Okura Prestige
I used to think the Okura was for old people. I was completely wrong. It’s for people who want things to work. The Japanese influence means the service is terrifyingly efficient. I dropped a pen under the bed, and when I came back later that day, not only was the pen on the nightstand, but the housekeeping had seemingly vacuumed the microscopic dust from the spot where it fell.
The rooftop pool is the sleeper hit of Taipei. You can see the Shinkong Life Tower and the breeze up there is the only thing that makes the August humidity bearable. It’s not ‘cool,’ but it’s perfect. It’s the kind of place where you can wear a robe and not feel like a cliché.
It’s just better.
I still wonder if that windowless hotel near the station is still open. I hope they put a window in. Or at least a better lightbulb. Every time I fly into Taoyuan now, I get a little bit of anxiety thinking about that room. I guess that’s the thing about travel—you have to have a few terrible nights to really appreciate the ones where the water pressure is high and the pillows don’t smell like old laundry.
Which brings me to my point: just stay at the Kimpton. Or don’t. But stay away from the purple lights.