Old Street's Misty Charm, Unchanged as Ever—A Stroll Through Tamsui Old Street

If Taipei is a bustling modern metropolis, then Tamsui is the city's gentle breath at its edge, slowing down the pace of life. Tamsui Old Street is the most flavorful part of this breath. Walking through it, you tread on cobblestone paths, surrounded by weathered red bricks and intricately carved wooden windows. The air carries a mix of fish crisps, pastries, and the river breeze, evoking a sense of nostalgia that feels like rewinding time, immersing you in an old dream. I arrived at Tamsui Old Street on a sunny afternoon. Stepping out of the Tamsui MRT station, I followed the flow of people and the riverside path. In the distance, Guanyin Mountain lay quietly along the water's edge, its surface shimmering with light. Ferries glided across the river, leaving transparent strokes in their wake. This scene intoxicated me even before I set foot on the old street. The old street stretches from the MRT station to the direction of Fort San Domingo, spanning just a few hundred meters yet holding a century's worth of prosperity and history. On both sides of the street are old shops and food stalls selling delicacies like A-gei, fish crisps, sour plum juice, and iron eggs, as well as a taste of "childhood memories." I bought a cup of hand-shaken sour plum juice from a roadside vendor. Its sweet and sour flavor, tinged with a hint of saltiness, was refreshing. The vendor's warm smile and voice added a touch of humanity to the drink. Along the way, I deliberately turned into a small alley called "Chongjian Street." This was one of Tamsui's earliest developed areas, once bustling with merchants during the late Qing dynasty. Today, though sparsely populated, it still retains a unique blend of brick Western-style buildings and traditional Minnan architecture. Weathered slogans and remnants of shop signs from the Japanese colonial era adorn the walls, casting a quiet melancholy and serenity under the slanting sunlight. Continuing forward, I reached the famous "Customs Wharf" and "Little White House." My favorite spot, however, was sitting on a stone bench by the Tamsui River, watching the sunset slowly sink into the water. The setting sun painted the sky red, igniting the last golden glow in both the sky and the river. Couples, street performers, and visitors along the shore all seemed to soften in the light and shadows. At that moment, I finally understood the meaning of "Tamsui"—not just a place name but a way of life: tranquil, slow-paced, yet full of genuine flavor. As night fell, lanterns lit up the old street, illuminating the paths of travelers heading home. I slowly walked back to the MRT station, leaving behind the bustling old street and the ancient charm carried by the river breeze. This day in Tamsui was not about grand landscapes but rich emotions and intricate details, like a handwritten letter to be read and remembered slowly.