[Overture: waking the ears — you think you know Tainan?]

“Do you really know Tainan?”

As editor for 3 Door Hotel, I have asked myself this question often. My eyes have seen the peeling walls of old houses and their new life; my tongue has tasted the sweet, the salty and the fresh. But recently I discovered that my deepest memories of Tainan came neither from my eyes nor my tongue, but from something I had long overlooked —sound.

That realisation grew from a hazy childhood memory. When my grandmother took me to the market, what I loved most was not looking at the bright array of goods but hiding behind her and closing my eyes. Small as I was, I noticed that her hands always moved in time with the market’s sounds: her“mm, good”always landed perfectly on the beat of theclangof metal as the greengrocer weighed something out. That sound was like a private signal between us, full of wordless warmth and safety. It reminds me thatsome landscapes have to be seen with the ears.

. We are always taken over by the market’s colours and its mouth-watering smells. That feast for eye and tongue is splendid, but it also blinds us to the market’s soul. Its breathing, the flow of human feeling through it, the track of time — all of it hides in a soundscape that is silent and yet profoundly moving.

Set aside the assumptions of sight and taste.I invite you to breathe deeply, follow my words, gently close your eyes, and let your ears be your only source of light.This is not merely an article but a sonic jolt unlike any you have known!

[A dive into sound — decoding the frequency of Tainan’s city heartbeat]

Every time I close my eyes and step into these three markets, it is as though I have entered a cinema without pictures. From the ferocity of dawn to the gentleness of midday and the boil before dusk, I was astonished to find the frequency of Tainan’s heartbeat transmitted so clearly through sound. This is a deep dive only the ears can join, and now I will share everything I heard and felt, holding nothing back.

[Shuixian Temple — a work song of the sea: the percussion of the old city, struck out with sweat and blades]

At five in the morning, while the city still sleeps, Shuixian Temple is already a battlefield of sound with the drums beating. The first time I stood at the entrance with my eyes closed, the wave of damp and brine that met me, together with the tremor in my eardrums, almost convinced me I was on a fishing quay.

Clang! Clang! Crash! What struck me first was the chopping arriving from every direction. Trying to distinguish it with my eyes closed, I realised it was not a single noise but the resonance of dozens of frequencies:blade and block weaving a percussion of powerful rhythm, every strike a declaration of the day.

“Prawns are plump! Just landed! Buy quick!” A high, carrying call in Taiwanese cuts through the air and goes straight to the heart. This is not simple shouting but a kind of confidence, a declaration of local enthusiasm.

Whoosh! Rumble rumble! Ice is lifted on a great shovel and pours down with a rush, while a cart rumbles closer from somewhere not far off. You suddenly understand why Tainan’s food always carries a note of wildness: because its source is exactly this fierce.

The sounds of Shuixian Temple taught me that behind that chopping lies Tainan’s respect for its ingredients and its refusal to compromise on how to live.

🎧 A prompt for you:Right now, try closing your eyes and feeling this sound. What image rises in your mind? A sweating old man, or a mountain of ice piled with the catch?

[Dongcai Market — a murmured concerto of the old city: chords of human warmth flowing through a slow movement]

Pulling away from the drums of Shuixian Temple and arriving at Dongcai in the middle of the day, with sunlight filtering through, the world in my ears switches instantly to a gentle slow movement. There are no urgent cries here, only soft murmurs like those within a family.

“Have you eaten?” “Long time no see — how is your child getting on at school?”What moved me most were those warm exchanges between stallholders and regulars. No raised voices, only soft and friendly greeting.Those quiet voices made me realise that Tainan’s gentleness comes not from clamour but from the steady flow of everyday conversation.

Swish! Rustle… chink!The blade cutting fruit goesswishthrough the plump flesh in one stroke, crisp and moist. The woman selling vegetables slips them gently into a bag with a finerustle, careful every time. And in the air, thechinkof coins into the box has lost its hurry and gained the composure of a confirmation.

Dongcai’s murmured concerto embodies Tainan’s slowness and grace. Here time seems to have slowed its step, and every note carries an unhurried attitude to living and a deep human warmth.

[Yongle Market — the rhythm and blues of good food: a tide of taste that strikes the senses]

As my steps carry me from Dongcai’s gentleness into Yongle Market, especially where it meets Guohua Street, the world in my ears is set alight again. The sound here strikes the eardrum with a surging force, as though the whole market were playing for a carnival of taste. This is a tight, energetic march of appetite.

Sizzle! Bubble bubble!Clearest of all is the cooking, rising and falling and making the fingers twitch. On the griddle,a sizzleas hot oil meets an ingredient, announcing the imminent burst of flavour. The great noodle potbubblesand steams, ingredients tumbling in the boiling water. In the sound of an old noodle stall’s broth rolling, Iheard decades of anticipation and satisfaction from countless hungry customers.

Slurp! Smack!No words are needed. Theslurpingof food drawn into the mouth and thesmackingof chewing are the highest praise flavour can receive. It is a primal, unmixed joy.

Yongle’s rhythm and blues is a rhapsody about eating.Its enthusiasm and abandon remind me that anyone coming to Tainan should let their palate off the leash at least once.

Frequently asked questions

[A long resonance — hear Tainan’s heartbeat and you will never be the same]

The ferocity of Shuixian Temple, the gentleness of Dongcai, the ardour of Yongle.

This walk with my eyes closed made me realise that when I set down my reliance on sight and taste, my ears became sharper than ever. These sounds are a city’s memory, the track of time, stories that are silent yet deeply moving. They remind me that real travel should not stop at what the eyes see and the tongue tastes, but should involve every sense in feeling a place’s pulse and breath.

So — can you hear Tainan’s heartbeat now? I certainly did. Next time you visit, you will no longer be a hurried sightseer but a traveller who can read this city with their ears.

📢 A challenge for the sonic traveller

Next time you walk into a Tainan market, try closing your eyes for thirty seconds. Then record on your phone the one sound you think best represents Tainan, and tell us in the comments what story you heard!