Beitou Hot Spring

I'd save Beitou for autumn and winter. Once it turns cold, the mountain mist and the steam off the pool surface layer over each other, and that contrast when you sink into the warm water feels best — the atmosphere is right too.

After dark is especially good. Beitou is one of the few hot-spring quarters on the city's edge where you can soak and still get home the same day; head up in the evening, soak around nightfall, and a walk back to the MRT fits perfectly. I won't give it up in summer either, I just shift the timing to the early evening, avoiding the hours when the sun is fiercest, so the soak isn't stifling.

The easiest way is to take the MRT. Get off at Xinbeitou Station and walk up through Beitou Park toward the mountain, and you'll connect straight to the spring area.

It's only some twenty minutes' ride from central Taipei, yet stepping off the train it feels like another world — the air is damp, the stone steps are damp, even the afternoon light seems filtered once through steam. It's precisely because it's so close that it became one of the few hot-spring spots you can set off for on a whim, soak, and still come back down the mountain and home the same day.

For anyone wanting a short escape from central Taipei, without the fuss of planning an overnight stay, Beitou is almost a ready-made answer.

It also suits first-time bathers: plenty of choices, direct transport, room to ease into testing the temperature. The atmosphere when you come with company is very relaxed — in the next pool an old man sits with eyes closed, half sunk in the water, the whole bathhouse holding only the sound of water and the dripping from the eaves, the steam blurring everyone's outline so you can't quite tell who is who, and there's no need to tell. Coming alone to empty your mind, or a few of you soaking slowly, both work.

First decide which kind of space you want. To experience the local atmosphere, you can choose a public bath; for privacy, pick a private room or a spring hotel. Beitou has all three, so you can choose by budget.

In terms of routing, the Thermal Valley, the Hot Spring Museum and Plum Garden aren't far apart, so they suit being arranged together into a half-day. My habit is to walk the sights during the day and soak in the early evening, which lines up neatly with the most atmospheric hours after dark.

The cost varies with the type you choose: a public bath is usually the most affordable, while a private room and a spring hotel go higher — the more privacy and space you want, the more you spend. Exact prices differ from place to place, so go by the signage posted on site at each bathhouse.

Whether you need to reserve also varies by venue. Public baths mostly let you in on arrival, while for private rooms and hotels, when it's busy in peak season or on holidays, confirming availability first is more reassuring. Checking the day's opening and availability before you set off saves you a fair few wasted trips back.

The most basic rule: shower before entering the pool, rinse your body clean before going in — this is the shared courtesy of bathing.

The setting is mostly quiet. In Beitou's bathhouses, no one speaks loudly; the whole space rests on the sound of water to hold that sense of ease — keeping your voice low is the most natural consideration toward the others sharing the pool.

Beitou has sulphur springs, and the water isn't lukewarm, so before getting in be sure to test the temperature first and don't plunge your whole body in at once.

Gauge your soaking time within your own limits. A hot spring easily relaxes you to the point of forgetting time — soaking and soaking, even how long has passed grows uncertain, but the strain on your body is real, so if you feel dizzy or your heartbeat quickens, get out and rest. Especially around the Thermal Valley, the water is near boiling and steams year-round, called "Hell Valley" by locals; the water is too hot to put a hand in, so just look — never get close or touch it.

The stone steps and ground in the spring area are often wet, so non-slip, easy-walking shoes will make things much easier.

Public baths and private rooms differ on rules about clothing and whether swimwear is required, so confirm before you set off, lest you arrive only to find you have to turn back. Bring the change of clothes and towels you'll need; after soaking, the sulphur smell clings to your hair all the way down the mountain, so if that bothers you, prepare a bit more.

Beitou's hot springs are a habit the Japanese left behind. In the colonial era this place was made a resort for convalescence and bathing; that green-tiled, red-brick Hot Spring Museum was once exactly the public bathhouse opened in 1913, its wooden upper floor still laid with tatami, cool underfoot and smelling of old wood.

The spring type is a rare sulphur-spring family — white sulphur, green sulphur, iron sulphur — differing slightly in colour and scent, among which the green-sulphur spring (commonly called "sulphur water") is rarer. For a whole living hot-spring quarter like this to remain on a city's edge is rare in itself.

But what's truly worth it, perhaps, is that "forgetting time." After soaking a while, all the plans you'd been turning over are forgotten, and even pulling out a phone to check the time seems superfluous. You step out and the sky is already dark, yet you feel light, as if something has been left behind in the water — what you've soaked away is not just weariness, but the self that is always checking the clock, always rushing on.