This time in Taichung, I stayed in the Midtown Suite, on the 12th floor, with a rack rate of NT$65,000. Push open the door, and the living room and bedroom are separate, with a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows along the side — a design I dearly love, letting you take in both the view and the sunlight. The light that day was beautiful; the room was bright, and my mood eased along with it. Let the room tour begin, and experience the home that would be mine for a little while.
Terracotta Leather Warms the Living Room First
The Midtown Suite's living room and bedroom are two separate rooms, divided by a sliding door. Only once you stay do you learn where the difference lies. Sleep belongs to sleeping; your waking hours pass slowly in the living room, with a place to go whether you want to watch television or simply drift in a daydream. By the window stand a small round table and two round stools, set in just the right place — you can sit and look out, doing nothing at all, and it feels perfectly good.
The sofa is upholstered in deep gray pinstriped fabric, with a single orange cushion whose color nicely echoes the orange in the bedroom rug. The coffee table has a marble top, holding a few magazines and a small pot of greenery. Wood and marble together are simply pleasing to look at. With a small plant in the room, the heart feels that this place is being cared for by someone.
On the small round side table beside the sofa sits an Aiello voice assistant, its screen lit and resting on the language menu. Beside it are a telephone and a notepad. It simply stays there, never stealing the scene; call out to it when you need it, and that is enough. That sense of measure — I love it.
On the round table sat a welcome gift. Three glass jars stood side by side, filled with snacks the hotel had prepared; behind them, two bottles of Norwegian EIRA mineral water, one sparkling, one still. A small standing card beside them explained that this was a courtesy extended to members, and a welcome letter signed by the general manager lay open on the table. To see all of this the moment you push open the door is to feel that you were expected. However many hotels I stay in, that feeling still moves me.
A Whole Wall of Windows Along the Side, Waiting for the Morning Sun
Beyond the living room lies the bedroom, its tones a shade deeper still. The bed is made perfectly smooth, the headboard wall paneled in gray and white, and a ring of light circles the ceiling with a gentle glow. At the foot of the bed stands a bench of woven leather, and the rug, patterned in orange and blue-gray, is the liveliest stretch of the whole room.
I looked at the bedside lights for a long time. White glass tubes hang down one by one from the ceiling; when they are lit, a warm light falls across the wooden wall, and the room takes on the look of evening. I stood there thinking that come nightfall, this room would surely be tender. On the wall beside the bed is a whole row of control panels — lights and curtains within easy reach, no need to get up. That is very convenient.
Across from the bed is an entire wall of deep brown cabinetry, the television set into the middle, the wardrobe with its amber glass door to the left, and an opening to the right leading to the bathroom. All the storage has been gathered away into that wall, so that looking across the room, only the bed remains. The bedroom does one thing only, and does it with complete devotion.
Soundproofing between the suite and the hotel's other rooms is, I would say, good. However, the hotel is close to several construction sites, and from mid-morning onward you will hear the sounds of building work — those who like to sleep late should take note.
After Opening the Wardrobe
Open the wardrobe's glass door, and the light turns itself on. Inside are hangers, a luggage rack, and a black garment dust bag, all arranged neatly. Open the lowest drawer and inside is a pair of wooden shoe trees, resting in a wooden tray. In the wooden box beside it are a cloth for shining leather shoes, shoe polish, and a brush; there is also a crisply folded white cloth shoe bag, and two pairs of white slippers with a gold emblem embroidered on their uppers.
The shoe trees were something I never expected. You do not particularly anticipate them when staying at a hotel, and when I saw them, I smiled a little inwardly. Even the tomorrow of a pair of leather shoes had been thought of ahead of time. These are things one does not ordinarily use, yet knowing they are there sets the heart at rest. That feeling of being cared for before ever asking — I have always loved it.
The Bathroom: Two People, No Need to Queue
The bathroom has two washbasins, an oval mirror and a set of taps for each person. In the morning there is no taking turns; for two people traveling together, that is a very practical kindness. On the counter sits a small pot of pink orchids, and the amenities are BYREDO's BLANCHE line, white bottles standing in a row. When it comes to scent, the Swedes have always understood.
The bathtub is placed against the full wall of window. The building opposite shows its windows grid by grid, and a little farther away is the city's skyline; a bathrobe hangs on the wall beside it, and a wooden rack rests on the tub's edge. To set the place for bathing before the city like this — I love such an arrangement. After a busy day, to soak in a bath by such a window is a truly precious moment in a journey.
We have a habit when we travel: whenever we stay in a room with a bathtub, we draw ourselves a tub of bubble water. This time was the same — the water was run, the bubbles piled high. On the wooden rack stood those two bottles of EIRA, one sparkling and one still, within reach while soaking, and beside them a little box of bath bombs. I love bathing very much; sinking in, surrounded by warm water and dense soft bubbles — such happiness. This night could be taken slowly, with no need to hurry.
The shower is a separate room of its own, a square overhead spray descending from the ceiling, and in the niche, BYREDO bottles and jars once again, arranged very neatly. The toilet is a TOTO washlet; the remote control panel, a thin sheet against the wall, is like a tiny white piano. What made me laugh out loud most was the toilet paper: its surface is embossed with leaves. Mere toilet paper, and yet embossed. Every time I think of it, I still laugh.
A Small World Inside the Cabinet
By the living-room window there is a small cabinet. On its top are a Nespresso coffee machine and a box of colorful capsules, glass cups turned upside down, and two bottles of water hung with "Welcome Drink" tags. On the wooden tray beside it, a white porcelain teapot and two small cups, as if waiting for someone to sit down. In a suite with such an atmosphere, commanding such a view, to brew a pot of hot tea and enjoy it is truly wonderful.
The cabinet's drawers are worth opening for a look, too. On the left are snacks; on the right, a row of small bottles of liquor, lying very neatly, and the bottle opener has its own fixed place. I pulled it open, admired it once through, and pushed it back just as it was. Some temptations are quite enough merely to look at.
There is one more small place, on the desk. The leather folder opens to letter paper on the left, and on the right it holds a card that reads "THE VERTICAL MUSEUM." The stationery box above is open: sticky notes, binder clips, an eraser, a highlighter, a ballpoint pen — nothing is missing. They are all basic stationery, yet to have them right at hand when needed is truly thoughtful. It presumes beforehand that you might wish to write a letter, or to write down in earnest, on letter paper, the words you want to say. In this day and age, that there is still someone thinking of you like this — I find it precious.
What Kind of Traveler Is Such a Room For?
I think it suits the traveler who wants to stay one night as if briefly moving house. There is somewhere to spread out the luggage, a wardrobe to hang the clothes, shoe trees waiting for the shoes; the very mood of staying has been prepared for you by the room beforehand. It also suits two people traveling together who each need a little space: with living room and bedroom apart, whoever sleeps early and whoever sleeps late need not accommodate each other. Those on business should love that desk and its stationery. When a room has order, the mind saves effort, too. If you also like to spend a night slowly, this room should suit your taste. To be a little good to yourself requires no reason at all: one night in the city, lived with a little more care, and the heart settles down of itself.
Practical Information (Hotel Details; Please Recheck Before You Set Out)
Room Type: Midtown Suite, 65 square meters, city view
Bed: One 180×200 cm double bed, sleeps 2; extra bed available (additional charge — please ask the hotel)
Layout: Living room and bedroom separated by a sliding door; double vanities, walk-in shower, freestanding bathtub
Amenities: 65-inch LG television, Nespresso capsule coffee machine, Dyson hair dryer, Swedish BYREDO amenities, Aiello voice assistant
Rack Rate: NT$65,000 (actual rates vary by booking date and plan)
Check-in / Check-out: 15:00 / 12:00
Minibar: Drinks and snacks in the in-room minibar are chargeable items; before helping yourself, you may wish to look at the price list
Club Benefits: The Midtown Suite rate includes access to Club InterContinental — continental breakfast, afternoon tea, and evening cocktails (the club is open to guests aged 16 and above). As for the lounge itself, its space and its tea, I have written a separate piece, "The Seventeenth Floor, Where the City Falls Quiet," where I tell it slowly
Epilogue
Since coming home, I sometimes think of that drawer — of a pair of shoe trees, a sheet of embossed toilet paper, a complete box of stationery.
They are all small things. Yet after a journey, what stays in the heart is so often exactly these small things.
When a room can care for a person to this degree, half of the journey's tiredness is already set gently down. The other half, I leave to the bed.
