Being a creative myself, a personal favorite in Taipei would be 1914 Huashan Creative Park – a used-to-be winery, turned culture and art center in the middle of the city. With it’s industrial facade – structures covered in greenery, an evidence of enduring the passage of time – it would be hard for you not to feel the urge to explore the place. The park hosts exhibits, and is a preferred venue for cultural events.

We were there on a Saturday afternoon, and the place was just full of life despite the gloomy weather.

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It was easy to spend an entire afternoon roaming around the creative park. We would go in random stores and look around. One of the stores we spent the most time in was Wooderful Life.

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Caught Mama waving at the kids hehe cutie

The place was full of kids and adults alike, all fascinated with the amazing woodwork you’re free to play with. Soft classical music was playing in the background. At one point, Air on G String played.

At the far back of the store was a workshop, where you can assemble your very own DIY. We didn’t buy anything to assemble, and just took advantage of the good lighting for portraits haha.

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We went in some more stores and my only conclusion is this: Huashan Creative Park captures the aesthetic I’m currently into.

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And then, at last, my feet brought me to this particular bookstore cafe:

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If I had the chance to make that distant dream happen, it certainly would’ve looked like this.

Walking inside (this song was playing in the background) felt like a dream was coming true before my very eyes. I’m not exaggerating. It was easily the most memorable place I stumbled upon that day, because of how it reminded me of a distant, shared dream. I was very much triggered, in ways good and bad. I felt my eyes sparkle and my heart flutter – and then I felt like crying. And I did. Not out of nowhere, silly. I had a great conversation with my Mama in that bookstore cafe, which led me to crying. Ask the books there, they know.

Oh and, it had a grand piano sitting in the corner, and later on I found out that the bookstore cafe that reminded me of a distant, shared dream hosts jazz nights and the like. Perfect.


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