Arriving in Shifen Old Street
Every trip I take in Taiwan reminds me how tightly history, landscape, and daily life intertwine here. And few places capture that spirit more vividly than Shifen, a small town in the Pingxi District where iron tracks slice through the center of a street, paper lanterns rise into the sky, and a wide curtain of water thunders just beyond the forest.
I had visited Shifen before, briefly, in the way that most day-trippers from Taipei do: hopping off the train, scribbling a wish on a lantern, and rushing back before the sky turned gold. But this time, I wanted to do it differently. I wanted to wander longer, listen more carefully, and soak in the textures of Shifen’s Old Street and the great waterfall nearby. This blog is my attempt to put that experience into words.
The Train to Another Era
The journey begins with the train itself. Shifen lies along the Pingxi Line, a railway built during the Japanese colonial period to haul coal out of these mountains. While the mines have long since closed, the line remains in service, carrying passengers instead of ore.
Riding it feels like stepping back in time. The carriages creak slightly, windows open wide to mountain air, and as we passed sleepy stations—Jingtong, Pingxi, Lingjiao—I felt the ghosts of miners and workers who once relied on this lifeline. It’s a rare example of how Taiwan has turned an industrial scar into a cultural artery.
By the time the train squealed into Shifen, I was already under its spell. And then I stepped onto the Shifen Old Street itself.
Shifen Old Street: Where Tracks and Life Intertwine
Imagine standing on a railway track while, just meters away, shopkeepers sell fried squid, lanterns hang in rows, and tourists line up to release floating wishes. That’s Shifen Old Street.
The train passes right through, several times a day, horn blaring, people stepping politely aside. And when the train leaves, the tracks return to being a marketplace, a stage for life. This dual identity—railway and street—is what makes Shifen unique.
Walking there, I saw vendors selling peanut ice cream rolls, carved wooden trinkets, and sky lanterns in every color. Each color, I learned, carries symbolic meaning: red for health, yellow for wealth, blue for success, pink for romance. Families and friends huddled around lanterns, writing characters in black ink: “Safe travels,” “Good fortune,” “Love forever.”
I bought one too. On mine, I wrote: “May journeys always teach me something worth sharing.” When I lit the flame and watched it rise, I felt a childish wonder—both in the ritual itself and in the way strangers around me clapped and smiled as if my wish was also theirs.
A Street Alive with Contrasts
What struck me about Shifen Old Street was not just the lanterns but the textures of daily life. Elderly men sat on stools by the tracks, sipping tea and watching crowds. Dogs padded slowly through shops as if they owned them. A woman in a floral apron grilled sausages while keeping one eye on a simmering pot of herbal soup.
The mix of old and new, sacred and commercial, is constant. A temple bell rang faintly in the distance, while the neon signs of bubble tea shops flashed in Mandarin and English. To me, this is Taiwan at its most honest: layered, contradictory, yet always welcoming.
History Beneath the Surface
Most visitors know Shifen for lanterns and the waterfall, but the town has roots in coal. In the early 20th century, Shifen was part of Taiwan’s mining network, with shafts tunneling deep into the hills. Miners lived in company-built housing near the tracks, and the railway transported not just coal but also people—connecting mountain labor to port cities.
Today, little remains of that industrial past except for the railway itself and the stories preserved in local memory. Walking the Old Street, I tried to imagine it blackened by coal dust, with workers finishing a shift and heading home. It made me see the colorful lanterns not as gimmicks, but as a community’s way of reinventing itself after industry faded.
Toward the Roar: Walking to Shifen Waterfall
From the Shifen Old Street, I followed the signs toward Shifen Waterfall, about a 20-minute walk away. The path led past bridges, rivers, and smaller falls—Eyeglass Waterfall with its twin streams, Pingtan Suspension Bridge swaying gently over green waters.
And then the sound came: a low rumble that grew louder with each step, until the trees parted and the great cascade appeared.
Shifen Waterfall: Taiwan’s Little Niagara
Standing at the viewing platform, I felt the spray on my skin. Shifen Waterfall is sometimes called the “Little Niagara of Taiwan”—a wide, 40-meter curtain of water plunging into a pool below, framed by forest. Unlike some of Taiwan’s taller but thinner falls, Shifen’s breadth gives it an undeniable presence.
The river twists above the falls, carving sandstone into rounded shapes, before tumbling in a single sheet. Rainbows often form in the mist; I was lucky to catch one stretching across the pool like a painter’s brushstroke.
I lingered for nearly an hour, watching how the light shifted, how couples posed for photos, how children gasped at the roar. And yet, beyond the tourist energy, the waterfall itself held a dignity—as if reminding us that it has thundered here long before our cameras, and will long after.
The Human Ritual of Watching Water
There’s something almost ceremonial about visiting waterfalls. People lean on railings, waiting for the perfect picture, but then they inevitably fall silent for a moment, lost in the rhythm of falling water. At Shifen, I saw it happen again and again: phones lowered, eyes fixed on the cascade, conversations paused.
I felt it too. The waterfall seemed to cleanse not just the air but my own restless thoughts. Watching it, I thought of how Taiwan’s landscapes often carry this dual role: both spectacle and solace.
Food, Flavor, and Firecrackers
Back in Shifen Old Street, I explored more food stalls. I tried Hakka-style peanut brittle candy, ground with malt sugar until it melted on the tongue. I sampled a local rice cake with savory minced pork topping. And of course, another sausage—because in Taiwan, one sausage is never enough.
Later, as dusk fell, vendors began setting off small strings of firecrackers near the tracks, part of a festival rehearsal. The sound echoed against hills, startling birds into the sky. It felt like an echo of old rituals, where fire and smoke kept away misfortune.
Lantern Nightfall
At sunset, the lantern ritual became more dramatic. The sky grew purple, lanterns glowed brighter, and as one by one they lifted, it looked as if stars were being born from the earth.
Standing there, I thought of all the wishes written that evening: hopes for love, for success, for health, for peace. Thousands of private dreams, briefly visible together in a public sky. It was beautiful, humbling, and strangely unifying.
Reflections: Why Shifen Stayed With Me
I have visited many towns in Taiwan, each with its own character. But Shifen Old Street left a mark because of how it balances the ordinary and the extraordinary. By day, it is a place where people sell snacks, hang laundry, and wait for the next train. By night, it becomes a place of lanterns rising into eternity. And just beyond, a waterfall reminds us that nature has its own timeless rituals.
Shifen Old Street is not polished. It can be crowded, chaotic, even commercial. But beneath that surface is something authentic: a community that found a way to survive after its mines closed, and that continues to welcome strangers with open palms and glowing lanterns.
Practical Travel Notes (From My Experience)
+ Getting There: Take the TRA train to Ruifang, then transfer to the Pingxi Line. Trains run about every hour.
+ Lanterns: Prices vary by color and size; staff will help you light and release them safely.
+ Waterfall Access: The path is free, with multiple viewing platforms. Allow at least an hour for the walk and visit.
+ Best Time: Late afternoon into evening, when you can see both the waterfall in daylight and the lanterns at night.
+ Food to Try: Peanut ice cream rolls, sausages, rice cakes, and sweet malt candies.
Conclusion: My Wish for Shifen
As I left Shifen Old Street that night, another train rumbled through the Street, lantern smoke still drifting above. My own wish had long vanished into the sky, but I felt it didn’t matter whether it came true or not. What mattered was that I had released it here, among strangers who were also wishing, beneath hills that once held coal, beside tracks that once carried freight, near a waterfall that has roared for centuries.
That’s what travel in Taiwan often feels like to me: a blending of private hopes and public landscapes, a reminder that we are all—whether tourists, vendors, or locals—writing wishes that rise together, at least for a moment, into shared light.
And this is why the lantern ritual is more than just a tourist activity. It’s a moment of connection—between people and place, between past and present. For many visitors with Justaiwantour’s Shifen Old Street tours, it becomes the memory that defines their trip: a lantern rising into the night, carrying inked hopes into the mountain sky.
🪄 And that’s the tea about Shifen Old Street & Shifen Waterfall.
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