After planning two trips to Taiwan in three months, my biggest takeaway is simple: book early. Otherwise, you too might fight yourself taking five trains in one day just to chase your dream—namely, riding the dessert train and still making it to the final night of the Taiwan Lantern Festival.
Stressful? Yes. But still worth it. Honestly, next time I’d ride seven trains and maybe even sacrifice a pinky toe. (How important are those, really?)
Officially named Haifeng—meaning “Sea Breeze”—this train debuted in December 2024 and carries just 60 passengers on a curated journey along Taiwan’s scenic western coast in Tiffany-blue train cars with upholstered sofa-style seats facing out, oversized windows, and gold trim everywhere.
The precisely curated retro-lux aesthetics and over-the-top elements left me wary—I boarded in Taichung with a healthy dose of skepticism. But, as so often happened in Taiwan, I found myself suspending cynicism, setting aside my worry that I was only seeing the “touristy” bits and embracing the sheer delight of it all. This train wasn’t just about dessert; it was about slowing down and seeing Taiwan through an indulgent, artfully composed lens.
Interior and seating area on board the Seaside Breeze train.
Lion Travel
Twenty minutes into the ride, with soft piano music tinkling through the cabin, we paused at the sleepy seaside town of Xinpu. The town’s claim to fame is that it is the closest station to the ocean on Taiwan’s western coast, but it’s the 1922 cedar station house—a relic from the Japanese occupation, its peeling paint worn thin by decades of ocean air—that captivated me more than the rocky shore. The town is so small that Haifeng’s 60 passengers more than doubled Xinpu’s usual daily foot traffic.
From there, the train slowed to a leisurely 20 miles per hour so that passengers could fully appreciate Taiwan’s coast and shoreline views. Though nothing outside could compete with the moment a uniformed attendant arrived bearing a two-tiered, Tiffany-blue box filled with desserts, accompanied by a souvenir menu with pop-up paper cutouts.
I pulled the gold knob on the top drawer and dove into the trio of savory bites, featuring upscale renditions of classic Taiwanese dishes: a sweet potato ball stuffed with duck, a mustard seed seafood salad sandwich, and my favorite—a taro and scallion scone, made with locally grown taro and served with lemon-kumquat jam and a dollop of creamy, salty butter.
From the bottom drawer, I grabbed a macaron bearing the train’s name and logo, topped with a vivid strawberry from the town of Dahu—home to 80 percent of Taiwan’s strawberry industry and just inland from where I sat—and spread with yuzu cream cheese. My second bite was a rice whiskey canelé crowned with a puffed rice crisp and flavored with lei cha, a traditional green tea-flavored, porridge-like drink considered to be a hallmark of Taiwan’s Hakka community, the second largest ethnic group on the island—many of whom live in Hsinchu, the route’s terminus. I also indulged in a shot-glass parfait of chiffon cake layered with razor-thin grape and cantaloupe slices, custard, and Chantilly cream—all while enjoying the seaside views.
Not long after my box was cleared away, we arrived in Houlong, where we disembarked again to visit the 250-year-old Ciyun Temple, built to honor Mazu, a sea goddess who protects seafaring adventurers like sailors and fishermen. This stop included a guided tour, though only in Chinese. (Haifeng is, for now, largely designed for domestic travelers. English signage is minimal, and booking typically requires using Lion Travel’s U.S. website or a bit of Google Translate finesse.)
Back on board, the final dessert arrived as the train rolled forward: a petite box of ice cream from Minimal, the Michelin-starred shop in Taichung, and a souvenir keepsake seashell-shaped spoon. The flavors rotate, as do all the foods, and the info card described it as flavored with lactic acid and purple shiso. I pulled out my phone for a quick retranslation of the Chinese, wondering if something had been lost, and got clarity: it was designed to imitate Yakult, the beloved yogurt drink.
The experience aboard Haifeng was nothing short of brilliant. I visited two small towns I would have never otherwise visited, indulged in a tasting menu that showed off local specialty ingredients, and got a delicious lesson in Taiwanese history, spirituality, and cuisine. Best of all, the desserts rivaled anything I ate in Taiwan.
The entire 3-hour journey costs NT$3,600 (about $110). There are faster ways to get around—a direct train on the same route would have taken just 75 minutes, and the high-speed rail covers it in 25 minutes—but as the saying goes, this train is about the journey. It’s touristy—literally designed to show off Taiwan to tourists. But it’s also the opposite of touristy: a slow, intimate introduction to destinations that don’t often make the guidebooks.
The itinerary and menu change each season. In April started departing from Nangang, on the edge of Taipei, heading out to Yilan, on the east coast. My only regret now? Not booking in time to catch the new route on my next trip.
