Japanese Colonial Era

Khóo Tsú-song Mansion (許梓桑古厝)

Over the past few months I’ve spent quite a bit of time either in or around Taiwan’s northern port city of Keelung, one of my favorite places to visit. While some might argue that it’s an old, uninteresting city that is constantly raining, I tend to see it in a different light as these things are part of its romantic charm.

Walking around Keelung never fails to be a rewarding experience, and you can learn much about Taiwan’s history while exploring the city. This is especially true in recent years as the city has invested quite a bit in its history, with the restoration of a number of historic buildings that have been reopened as cultural attractions.

With historic attractions spanning from Dutch and Spanish Formosa, the Qing Dynasty, the Japanese-era and the post-war period, a visit to Keelung puts travelers in a unique position to be learn about places of interest that span a wide variety of Taiwan’s history.

With so many historic buildings being restored and re-opening as cultural attractions, especially those from the Japanese-era, I have a long list of places to visit, as well as a long list of places that I need to write about. So, I’ll happily be spending a considerable amount of time exploring the city over the next few years as it seems like there is always something new to see and do in Keelung!

Today, I’ll be introducing an historic Japanese-era mansion that sits atop a hill within the downtown core of the city. While it has received a bit of attention in recent years, the long abandoned mansion, once home to a prolific local political figure, lays ruined as decades of abandonment have been rather unkind. While only a short walk from the city’s popular night market, the mansion remains somewhat obscure and is surprisingly only popular among those interested in history or urban exploration, like myself.

Unfortunately, even though the Keelung City Government has invested a considerable amount of public funds restoring historic buildings within the city, it doesn’t seem like this beautiful old mansion is on the list of properties to restore. There are of course a number of reasons for this, which I’ll detail below.

Thankfully, local civic groups have taken an interest in its upkeep, and have striven to clean it up and maintain the grounds until the time comes when it can receive some official attention.

Until recently there has been very little coverage about the mansion in the English language, save for an excellent article by my friend at Spectral Codex, I figured it was about time to provide my own take on the mansion and its history. I highly recommend anyone reading this to take some time to read his piece on the mansion as he’s a much more thoughtful writer than I am.

Link: Khoo Tsu-song Old House 許梓桑古厝 (Spectral Codex)

Before I start introducing the mansion, I think it’s important to first offer a brief profile of the prolific figure who lived in it, so that you can better understand its historical significance.

Khóo Tsú-song (許梓桑)

Walking nearby the historic mansion today, you’ll find one of the typical brown road signs that indicates a cultural or historic attraction. The sign reads, “Xu, Zi-Sang Historical Home (許梓桑古厝).”

Likely to confuse most foreign tourists, the name “Xu Zi-Sang” is the pinyin romanization of “Khóo Tsú-song,” who arguably happens to be one of the most prolific Taiwanese-born figures in Keelung’s modern history, known locally by another name: the First Person of Keelung (基隆第一人).

Why they chose to go with the pinyin romanization rather than using the Taiwanese-Hokkien pronunciation is a head-scratcher - it’s certainly not how anyone would have addressed him while he was alive.

Born in Keelung in 1874 (同治13年), Khóo was brought up by his mother, who was widowed when he was quite young. The heir to the Khóo family and its fortune, as a young child he was afforded the opportunity of receiving a private education, at a time when a formal education was a rare thing in Taiwan.

Preparing for years to take the Civil Service Exam (科舉), Khóo was highly regarded for his literary prowess, especially when it came to poetry. Suffice to say, by the time he was prepared to take the exam, China found itself at war with Japan, resulting in an embarrassing defeat, and the loss of Taiwan in the process.

When Japanese forces arrived in Keelung to take control of the island, many of Khóo’s intellectual contemporaries, couldn’t accept being ruled by a foreign power, so they hopped boats with other Qing officials and left the island. The reality of Khóo’s situation however was a bit more complicated. As the twenty-one year old head of his clan, it would have been difficult for him to abandon his family, their fortune and their land holdings here in Taiwan.

So, instead of becoming a refugee from his place of birth, he made the decision to instead work with the incoming regime as the Japanese authorities sought out local scholars to work together to assist in stabilizing the political vacuum left by the outgoing regime.

This is where opinions on the man diverge as some would point their fingers and call him a traitor, while others would laud the great contributions he made over a life as a public servant - No matter what political side you take, it would be an understatement to say that Khóo’s legacy continues to reverberate in the city today, and his efforts to maintain local cultural traditions have ensured that we are still able to celebrate those traditions today.

Starting his career as a public servant at the age of twenty-one, Khóo assisted in the effort to maintain social order with the income regime, and was quickly appointed as an official in the Keelung City Office (基隆街庄長事務所書記). Keeping in mind that the Japanese used the port city as a staging point for their armed forces to make their way further inland, it was of the utmost importance that Keelung remained stable, and Khóo played an important role in ensuring that the transition went smoothly.

Having been afforded a private education while growing up, Khóo took it upon himself to adapt to the new reality by establishing a Japanese-language school (國語訓練班) for locals, and hired a private tutor to accelerate his own learning process. For his efforts, in 1901 (明治34年) he was awarded a ‘blue-ribbon’ award (藍綬紳章) by the Governor General, a highly prestigious award for someone of his youth.

Amazingly, in 1903 (明治36) at the age of twenty-nine, Khóo was appointed to a position that was essentially mayor of Keelung (基隆街庄長), and as time went by his career continued to advance as the mayor of Keelung District (基隆區長), and as congressperson of Taipei Prefecture (臺北州協議會員), receiving numerous commendations from the Governors Office in Taipei throughout his career.

Still, it’s important to keep in mind that apart from his career in public service, Khóo remained in his role as chief of the Khóo clan, as well as a prominent member of society making time to take part in local literary societies as well as serving as head of one of Keelung’s most important places of worship.

As one of the administrators of Keelung’s Qing-an Temple (慶安宮), Khóo’s influence ensured that the temple’s Mid-summer Ghost Festival remained the most prominent religious celebration in the city throughout the colonial era. Thanks to his political power, the scale of festival was larger than any of the other local religious festivals, especially those held by the local Shinto Shrines. This is one of the areas where Khóo’s influence continues to reverberate today as the annual Ghost Month celebrations in Keelung continue to be one of the busiest times of the year in the city, steeped in tradition that goes back hundreds of years.

Note: If you find yourself visiting Keelung checking out the mansion and the night market, I can’t recommend enough that you also stop by the beautiful Qing-an Temple, one of the prettiest and most historic places of worship in the city, dating back to 1780 and is one of the three most important temples in Keelung (基隆三大廟).

Interestingly, despite all of his achievements, little is known about his personal life, and even though he constructed a giant mansion for himself in the middle of the city, much of his prominence came crashing to the ground when the Japanese were forced to surrender Taiwan at the end of the Second World War.

Given the atrocities that took place when the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan in the post-war era, its safe to say that Khóo saved himself quite a bit of misery by instead passing away at the at the age of seventy-one that same year.

Despite all of his achievements, his collaboration with the Japanese throughout his career would have landed him in a precarious situation with the nationalists and he would have likely ended up being just another one of the nameless faces floating face up at the port of Keelung.

In retrospect, one could argue that even though he worked with the Japanese to advance his career, he spent a considerable amount of time and effort working to preserve Taiwanese culture and traditions at a time when things like this were frowned upon - and given the era for which he lived, the architectural design of his mansion is arguably a pretty good indicator of what kind of man he was.

Qìngyú Hall (慶餘堂)

Growing up in what we’d consider prime real estate within Keelung, the Khóo family constructed their family home in what was known during the Qing Dynasty as ‘Hsintien town’ (新店街), stretching from the harbor front and encompassing much of the city’s historic economic district. Home to three of the city’s most important places of worship, Dianji Temple (奠濟宮), Qing’an Temple (慶安宮), and the City God Temple (城隍廟) as well as the Kanziding Fish Market (崁仔頂魚市), it would have been the most important section of town prior to the city’s expansion during the Japanese-era.

Within a few short years of the Japanese occupation, the colonial government proposed some pretty ambitious urban renewal and development plans (市區改正) for many of Taiwan’s major towns and cities. In the early 1900s, planning for Keelung was finalized, and with Khóo at the helm, the government went ahead with some unpopular land-expropriation initiatives. Little is written on the subject, but I can imagine that official messaging on the touchy subject went over a little smoother when citizens realized that not even the Khóo’s family home would be spared in the process.

Link: 臺灣日治時期都市計畫 (Wiki)

Having little to no public works in the city, the renewal plans essentially re-shaped Keelung and modernized it by improving roads, adding an electricity grid, and constructing public works that took care of sanitation and sewage as well as offering citizens access to clean running water for the first time.

In 1909 (明知42年), the family moved to a new home where they would live for the next two decades. It was in this home that Khóo famously held his poetry and literature society meetings, promoting Chinese classics and Taiwanese literature.

At the age of 57, close to retirement, Khóo had a new mansion built for his family on a nearby hill, nicknamed by locals as “Major-General’s Mountain” (少將腳), given that it was also home to one of the Japanese forces commanders in Keelung.

Note: It’s reported that when was asked why he constructed his mansion on the hill, he remarked that in his golden years that he hoped for peace and quiet and a house constantly full of visitors couldn’t really achieve that. Basically he wasn’t just retiring from a life as a civil servant, but also as a public figure.

Completed in 1931 (昭和6年), the Khóo family mansion was officially named ‘Qìngyú Hall’ (慶餘堂), a pretty common title for traditional residences, hailing from an ancient Chinese idiom about ‘longevity’ and ‘greatness’ (積善之家,必有餘慶). In this specific case however, I find the name of the mansion interesting given Khóo’s background as an administrator at the nearby Qing-an Temple (慶安宮), which shares the same first Chinese character as the name he chose for his mansion. Coincidence? Possibly.

While technically located within the same area of the city as the family’s original residence, this time the mansion was constructed on a hill overlooking the commercial district and the port. With other well-off neighbors, the hill would have been a nice spot to live with great views of the hustle and bustle of the city.

That being said, the family were only able to live in the mansion for about a decade until the Second World War brought with it allied bombing campaigns and Keelung one of the most important targets. For their own protection, the family moved to another location on what they thought would be a temporary basis, however even though the mansion escape destruction, Khóo Tsú-song never returned.

Passing away just as the war ended, the mansion became home to several families of Chinese refugees who illegally squatted in the building for quite a while, and as time passed by, the ownership rights of the family seems to have deteriorated, and weren’t recognized by the new government. While it is not entirely supported by evidence, there are claims that the ownership rights of the family were disregarded by authoritarian government of the time as Khóo was considered a ‘collaborator’ with the Japanese Colonial Government and was a traitor, despite his legacy being one that is fondly remembered by locals. Nevertheless, the continued confusion as to the status of the mansion’s ownership is one of the main reasons why the Keelung City Government has been powerless to have the site fixed up.

When the mansion was ultimately abandoned is unclear, but it’s been empty for decades and the years have not been kind as much of the wood has rotted, the roof caved in, and anything on the interior was looted. As mentioned above, local civic groups however have taken an interest and over the past decade have been organizing volunteer groups to assist in cleaning up the site, which attracts quite a bit of garbage.

But its not likely that we’ll see much official effort to restore the building for the foreseeable future.

Architectural Design

As mentioned above, what remains of the mansion today is merely an empty shell of its former glory. Nevertheless, from what little remains and with the assistance of historic records, we can get a pretty good idea of how the mansion would have appeared in the 1930s.

Before I go into detail, I think it’s important to point something out that I briefly touched on earlier - I haven’t really seen this mentioned in any of the articles I’ve read about the man, or the mansion while researching for this article, so I’d like to point out that the narrative that Khóo Tsú-song was somehow a race traitor is a questionable one.

Khóo was a highly-educated man and especially gifted when it came to Chinese literature. However, when it came time for him to take his Imperial exam, the Japanese took control of Taiwan and the Qing Dynasty ended shortly thereafter. As a young man having to adapt to Japanese Colonial control, he dedicated his life to a career of public service and the development of the city he called home.

When it came time for Khóo to start considering retirement, he constructed a new mansion in his home town. Built during the Showa-era (昭和), when construction techniques in Taiwan were at their most refined, he could have easily had a Japanese-style mansion built for himself, and it would have been beautiful given the views of the city and the port at the time - But he didn’t do that - he paid homage to his heritage and constructed a traditional Fujian-style mansion on that hill almost as if he was making a bold statement about his cultural heritage.

That being said, Keelung is and always has been an international city, so even though the mansion takes most of its architectural inspiration from the traditional Fujian-style architecture that is so common in Taiwan, it is also an eclectic mixture of Japanese and Western influences in addition to making use of modern construction materials and techniques.

A traditional three-sided courtyard building (閩南式三合院建築), Khóo’s mansion is a two-floor structure that also included a basement. Essentially a three floor building, it was constructed with a mixture of brick and concrete using the ubiquitous Taiwan Renga (台灣煉瓦株式會社) red bricks made during the colonial era.

Note: These famed bricks can be found in many of the buildings from that era and amazingly remain in great shape today. So, if you look closely while touring the mansion, you may find bricks with “TR” printed on the top of them.

Suffice to say, the vast majority of the three-sided courtyard houses that you’ll find in Taiwan these days are single-floor buildings. This one remains quite special because it was constructed on the side of a mountain, which was carved in a way that allowed it to have a basement and two floors. The top floor was where the traditional design was most prevalent featuring a main section and ‘guardian dragon’ wings (護龍) on the left and right as well as a courtyard in front.

Interestingly, the ‘courtyard,’ here appears similar to its contemporaries, but is mostly just a flat section of the roof that covers the floors below. With this in mind, the top floor of the mansion is considerably smaller than the two floors below, but is also the most ornate part of the building. Likely used by the family as an ancestral shrine (given Khóo’s position as the head of the family) as well as providing a living space for the family’s servants within the wings, the architectural prowess used here was quite genius in its design.

Note: The Neihu Red House (內湖紅樓) might be of interest regarding brick Japanese-era mansions constructed with a fusion of architectural design.

Like many Hokkien-style buildings, the mansion was beautifully decorated with ornate cut-porcelain carvings (剪瓷雕) of flowers and birds and features some pretty cool bamboo windows (竹節圓窗) on either side of the door on the main wing. Similarly, one of the distinctive design features of the building are the ox-eye windows (牛眼窗) that you’ll find on each of the wings, which are Western Baroque-inspired inclusions.

Unfortunately there isn’t much I can say about the design of the floors below as they have been pretty much emptied out. The stairs and anything else that once existed inside on both the first floor and the basement have disappeared over the years as the mansion was left to rot and open to looters.

The last thing I’ll highlight about the design is the stone-washed triangular staircase located in the center-front of the building that allowed visitors to reach the top floor from the outside. Today, this set of stairs is pretty much the only method for visitors to reach the top floor of the building as the wooden stairs within the interior of the building have rotted away and were removed at some point over the past few decades.

The stairs are part of a network of stairs that were constructed especially for the mansion as there are two paths from ground level that were constructed for the building.

In the records that I’ve seen, it was reported that when the mansion was under construction, it was far too expensive to have laborers carry the bricks for the building up the hill, so Khóo enlisted the help of local children who were paid a cent for every brick that they carried up the hill.

Today, the mansion lies in ruins with the roof having already caved in and the staircases between floors taken away (likely by volunteers for the safety of those visiting). Although it is an empty shell of its former self, the building has interestingly been overtaken by nature with trees and roots growing along the outer walls of the mansion reminiscent of the popular Anping Tree House (安平樹屋) in Tainan.

The Keelung City Government for its part has set up some plaques with information about the mansion’s history, and the set of stairs that leads you from ground level to the mansion has been adorned with some interesting murals depicting the building in its original state. Unfortunately for the reasons mentioned above, that’s about the extent of what they’re able to do at this point until the legal situation of its ownership is settled. Visiting the mansion is pretty easy as it is a simple detour from the popular Miaokou Night Market area, so if you are planning on enjoying a day exploring the city, it shouldn’t take you too long to get there to check it out.

Getting There

 

Address: #15, Lane #2 Aisi Road, Keelung (基隆市仁愛區愛四路2巷15號)

GPS: 25.127360, 121.744070

Situated on a hill that overlooks Keelung Harbor, the long-abandoned mansion is currently obscured by all of the modern buildings that have been constructed around it. For decades it has been hidden in plain sight within close proximity to the city’s famed Miaokou Night Market with most unaware of its existence.

These days, it is a bit more well-known, but still somewhat of an obscure tourist site within the city that the vast majority of tourists tend to miss.

The area around Keelung Harbor is very walkable, so if you find yourself in the city looking for something to do before the sun goes down and the night market comes to life, a stop by this historic mansion is a pretty great option given its close proximity.

In a departure from my usual style, I’m only going to be providing walking directions for this one. The reason for this is because the mansion is in pretty close proximity to the night market, so if you take the train to the city, you can get there pretty easily. On the other hand, if you’re driving a car, you’re going to have to park in one of the parking garages near the night market and you’ll end up walking from the there.

The narrow roads near the night market don’t really make the route to the mansion accessible most of the time, and if you attempt it, you’ll likely find yourself stuck for quite some time, without any opportunity to find a parking spot nearby. So, if you’ve got a car, park it somewhere near the harbor and walk around the downtown core. It’ll be a far more enjoyable experience, I promise you.

Walking through the night market area on Rensan Road, you’ll make a right turn on Aisi Road (愛四路) where you’ll continue walking until the narrow road starts to curve right. When it does you’ll notice a set of stairs on the left side of the road with a brown sign that (probably still) reads “Xu, Zi-Sang Historical Home.”

From there you’ll simply walk up the hill where you’ll find the mansion at the end.

Along the way you’ll want to take note of some of the murals on the walls that depict how the mansion originally appeared.

Once you arrive, you’ll want to be careful of where you’re walking as you explore as some of the sections of the mansion aren’t as stable, especially in the areas where the stairs between floors once existed.

Watching over the modern development of Taiwan’s Northern Port City for almost a century, the old Khóo mansion is one of the city’s historic treasures, and even though it is in pretty bad shape, its continued existence is an important look into the history of the city. While it might seem like a somewhat obscure tourist destination, if you find yourself in Keelung and have a bit of time, visiting won’t take too much of your time, and you’ll be rewarded with a nice view of the city when you’re there.



Hsinchu Prison Martial Arts Hall (新竹少年刑務所演武場)

Years ago, when I first started combining photography with writing about Taiwan, I didn’t really have any idea where this whole blogging thing would take me. I figured I’d simply share photos of places I was traveling to in my free time with a bit of information about them. Then one day, on a scooter trip to Hsinchu, I decided to stop by the yet to be restored Longtan Martial Arts Hall thanks to a tip from a friend. That visit spawned a several-year long research project into Taiwan’s Japanese Colonial era, resulting in visiting almost all of the remaining Martial Arts Halls as well as many other train stations, civic buildings, dormitories, etc. 

What started out as a simple visit to a semi-abandoned building transformed this space into one of the most authoritative spaces on the web that tells the story of these former Martial Arts Halls; Having visited a large percentage of the halls that remain in Taiwan today, I decided to write a general guide so that people could learn more about their complicated history.  

Link: The Martial Arts Halls of Taiwan (臺灣の武德殿)

More specifically, the guide features a list of sixteen remaining halls, most of which have been restored and re-opened to the public as historic tourist destinations. There were a few on the list however that were somewhat questionable as to whether or not they’d ever be restored. The Xinzhuang Martial Arts Hall (新莊武德殿) and the former Hsinchu Juvenile Prison Martial Arts Hall (新竹少年刑務所演武場), for example were two that had an uncertain future.

I’m happy to report however that the Xinzhuang Martial Arts Hall is currently being restored, and it should be re-opened within the next year or two. Even better is that the Hsinchu Prison Hall has already been restored and is open to the public. If you know me, I follow these developments pretty closely, and I had seen news and some photos regarding the start of the restoration process of the latter, but I never really expected that it’d be completed so quickly!

I’m happy to report that I’m here with yet another article introducing one of the nation’s newest fully restored Martial Arts Hall - Before I start though, I have to give some mad props to the Hsinchu City Government, which did an amazing job restoring this historic building. Likewise, I have to give them credit for what I consider to be the most informative and comprehensive descriptions of the history and the architecture of the building that I’ve seen. In most cases, I’d find myself stuck in the library of the national archives doing extensive research on the architectural specifics of these buildings, but almost all of the information that anyone needs to learn about the hall is provided within, which is great! 

I don’t consider myself easily impressed given that over the years I’ve observed despite a willingness on the part of the government to spend a bunch of money restoring these buildings, rarely is the due diligence ever done when it comes to telling their story properly. The Hsinchu City Government though has gone above and beyond - and that is something that has observably become the norm as of late as the Hsinchu Aqueduct (新竹街水道取水口), features similarly thorough informative displays.

With the massive Hsinchu Public Hall (新竹公會堂) set to reopen in the near future, I find myself quite optimistic for what the city will do with the space, especially since Japanese-era buildings of its size and importance are about as rare as the Martial Arts Halls.

It seems like there are few places in Taiwan that are doing as well as Hsinchu with regard to its preservation of historic buildings, so I’m sure I’ll be visiting the city quite often in the coming months and years!  

Hsinchu Prison Martial Arts Hall (新竹少年刑務所演武場)

In 1900 (明治33年), construction on Martial Arts Halls in Taiwan started with the first in Taipei (臺北州/たいほくしゅう), Taichung (臺中廳/たいちゅうちょう) and Tainan (臺南廳/たいなんちょう) initially meant to assist in the training of the local police in martial arts. It wasn’t until after the “Taiwan Butokuden Branch of the Dai Nippon Butoku Kai” (大日本武德會臺灣支部) was established in 1906 however that we started to see these Martial Arts Halls popping up all over the island.

By 1920 (大正9年), the organization was given a directive from the central government to start construction on Martial Arts Halls in each of Taiwan’s prefectures culminating in the eventual construction of more than two-hundred across the Island over the next two decades.

In Taiwan, the halls initially served the purpose of training the police, military and prison guards in Japanese martial arts disciplines. Later, they opened up to the general public in an attempt to train the citizens of Taiwan in Japanese martial arts, as well as instilling "Japanese Spirit," better known as Yamato-damashii (大和魂).

While they weren’t considered civic buildings, the Martial Arts Halls were often constructed in strategic locations within cities and towns close to the governing district. This helped the government to better pass down directives to the organization in addition to ensuring that funding was available to help promote Martial Arts disciplines and Japanese cultural values. 

As I introduced in my guide to Taiwan’s Martial Art Halls, more than two-hundred of these buildings were constructed across the island, varying in size based on their status within the  hierarchy of the organization. Of that total, eleven were classified as “Prison Branches” (刑務所), where staff of the prisons around the island were trained in Martial Arts and self-defense techniques. 

Keeping in mind that the Prison Branches were the rarest of the bunch, its pretty cool that a handful of them continue to exist today, namely the Taichung Martial Arts Hall (臺中刑務所演武場), the yet to be restored Tainan Prison Martial Arts Hall (臺南刑務所演武場) and the former Shinchiku Prefecture Juvenile Prison Martial Arts Hall (新竹少年刑務所演武場).

To introduce the history of this nearly one hundred year old building, we first have to talk about the reason for which it was constructed, given that it was just a small piece of the Shinchiku Juvenile Prison (新竹少年刑務所 / しんちくしょうねんけいむしょ), the first of its kind in Taiwan.

Officially established on October 7th, 1926 (昭和元年), the detention centre had a maximum capacity of just over five-hundred inmates, and came fully equipped with recreational facilities, a Shinto Shrine, a church, staff housing (just outside of the walls), and of course the Martial Arts Hall. That being said, official records from the Japanese-era state that even though the facility was where all of Taiwan’s juvenile criminals were imprisoned, there were never more than 350 inmates at any given time.

The history of the prison facility however dates back several decades prior as it was originally the Hsinchu Branch of the Taipei Prison (台北監獄署新竹支署), which opened in 1896 (明知29年). Over next few decades the facility was renamed several times, while also expanding with the construction of new buildings while the colonial government was busy refining Taiwan’s territorial boundaries and civil system. By 1923, the prison was one of the four largest on the island, but was still re-designated three years later into Taiwan’s first Juvenile Penitentiary.

Although it has been repaired, expanded and rebuilt on several occasions, the prison has stayed in continuous operation for 130 years, becoming the Hsinchu Prison (新竹監獄) after the end of the Second World War until now.

As part of the continued expansion of the prison and the facilities that surrounded it, a Martial Arts Hall was constructed within the community of employee housing along the eastern wall. Completed in 1935 (昭和10年), the hall served as a space to assist the employees of the prison in the art of self defense.

As we’ve seen with some of the other Martial Arts Halls around the country, the official name of the hall was a long and convoluted one, officially known as the ‘Hsinchu Juvenile Prison Martial Arts Dojo’ (新竹少年刑務所演武場 / しんちくしょうねんけいむしょえんぶじょう).

While still falling under the operational control of the (equally convoluted) “Taiwan Budoken Branch of the Dai Nippon Butoku Kai” (大日本武德會臺灣支部), this particular hall was regarded as an “enbujo” (演武場 / えんぶじょう), or a “Martial Arts Performance Centre” rather than a full-fledged “Budokuden” (武德殿 / ぶとくでん) given that the Hsinchu Martial Arts Hall (新竹武德殿) was located a short distance away.

For those who can’t differentiate between the Chinese characters, it can be a bit confusing given that the majority of Taiwan’s remaining Martial Arts Halls are referred to in Japanese as “Butokuden”.

Link: The Hsinchu Prison Butokuden and Dormitories (新竹演武場) Over The City

It was common however during the Japanese-era to refer to also use either “Budojo” (武道場), “Renbukan” (練武館) or “Enbujo” (演武場) to refer to the halls. Essentially, the naming of the halls, or at least their official designation was part of a formula used to differentiate their structural hierarchy within the organization.  

While the ‘enbujo’ variety tended to be smaller, the key thing to remember is that in their official names you’d still find the words “Butoku Kai” (武德會) preceding the rest of the name - In this case, this hall would have been officially referred to as a “Butoku Kai Enbujo”  (武德會演武場 / ぶとくかいえんぶじょう).

I realize this all might seem a bit confusing, but the Japanese are known for strict adherence to organizational hierarchy, which if you’re able to figure out actually makes sense.

Despite its size, the Martial Arts Hall offered the same classes that you’d find at any of the others around Taiwan with one side of the building reserved for Judo (柔道), and the other for Kendo (劍道). The exterior of the building likewise would have had a space for practicing Kyudo (弓道), otherwise known as Japanese archery.

Suffice to say, the Martial Arts Hall was constructed only a decade prior to the end of the colonial era, so in 1945, when the Japanese relinquished control of Taiwan under the terms of their surrender, the hall ceased being used for its original purpose. After the war, the Chinese Nationalists used it for housing for prison staff as there was a housing crisis caused by the millions of refugees who fled to Taiwan with the incoming regime.

To meet the needs of the residents of the building, alterations were made to its original design over the years making it a shadow of its former self some hideous modern additions that covered up almost all of its architectural design. Suffice to say, the building and most of the dorms that surround the prison were eventually abandoned as they aged, and the residents found more comfortable accommodations elsewhere. 

The Martial Arts Hall was officially registered as a Hsinchu City Protected Heritage Building (市定古蹟) on July 26th, 2012, which by law meant that plans would have to be drawn up to have the building restored.

It ended up taking a few years, but restoration on the building started in the summer of 2018.

Then, after a several year-long restoration project, the Martial Arts Hall officially reopened to the public on November 11th, 2021, a little over three years after the project started. 

Before I move on to introducing the architectural design of the Martial Arts Hall, I’ll provide a brief timeline of events in order to give you a better idea of its history: 

Martial Arts Hall Timeline

  • 1895 (明治28年) - Japan takes control of Taiwan and starts its occupation of the island. 

  • 1896 (明治29年) - The Hsinchu Branch of the Taipei Prison (台北縣新竹監獄署) is established. 

  • 1900 (明治33年) - Taiwan’s first Martial Arts Halls are constructed in Taipei, Taichung and Tainan.

  • 1923 (明治30年) - The Prison is renamed “Hsinchu Prison” (新竹刑務所) 

  • 1926 (昭和元年) - The Hsinchu Juvenile Prison (新竹少年刑務所) is officially established. 

  • 1935 (昭和10年) - The Juvenile Prison Martial Arts Hall (新竹少年刑務所演武場) is established.

  • 1945 (民國34年) - Japan surrenders to the allies and control of of Taiwan is given to the ROC.

  • 1945 (民國34年) - The Juvenile Prison is officially renamed Hsinchu Prison (新竹監獄)

  • 1945 - 2012 - The Martial Arts Hall is used as a dormitory for Prison employees (監獄員工宿舍). 

  • 2012 (民國101年) - The Martial Arts Hall is registered as a protected historic building (市定古蹟). 

  • 2018 (民國107年) - Restoration on the Martial Halls Hall begins.

  • 2020 (民國109年) - Restoration on the hall is officially completed.    

  • 2021 (民國110年) - The Martial Arts Hall officially reopens as a tourist attraction. 

Architectural Design

As I mentioned above, this Martial Arts Hall can be considered one of the most ‘complete’ of the few that remain in Taiwan today, given that both the main section of the hall and the annex remain intact. However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that in recent years, there has been more emphasis put into ensuring that the larger halls around the country are restored in a way they are as ‘complete’ as this one.

To explain what I mean, when these Martial Arts Halls were originally constructed during the Japanese era, they almost always included an annex building, used as an administrative and living space. Additionally, you were also likely to find space on the exterior of the building reserved for traditional Japanese archery.

When the halls started being restored, almost all of the attention was placed solely on the main hall, leaving the rest of the facility more or less incomplete.

Thankfully, due to the popularity of the Martial Arts Halls as tourist attractions, and the potential for the annex to be used as an exhibition space, or a spot that could be rented out, they’ve started to make their reappearance next to some of the already restored halls. Most recently, the Daxi Martial Arts Hall (大溪武德殿), the Qishan Martial Arts Hall (旗山武德殿), the Changhua Martial Arts Hall (彰化武德殿) and the Taichung Prison Martial Arts Hall (臺中刑務所演武場) are a few examples where the annex was added after the restoration of the main hall.

Link: The role of Public-Private Partnerships in Conserving Historic Buildings in Taiwan

One of the main differences between the halls mentioned above and this particular hall is that the annex building was connected directly to the rest of the building, and was restored simultaneously making it a complete experience. Yet another reason for my high level of praise for the building. 

Officially, the Martial Arts is split into three ‘sections’, but architecturally-speaking it’s much easier to just say its split into two given the difference in the materials used to construct each side.

The Martial Arts side was constructed with a mixture of brick, wood and reinforced concrete, one of the defining characteristics of the period when it was built. The annex side on the other hand was constructed with traditional Japanese architecture in mind in that it was constructed primarily of wood. 

Keeping in mind that this is inherently a ‘east-west fusion’ style building, there are some obvious design differences between the two sections, but it’s important to first note where they are the same: To start, both sections are elevated off of the ground on a concrete base. One of the things that Japanese architects learned quickly upon arrival in Taiwan was that the island’s termites are a feisty bunch so in order to preserve the structural integrity and the longevity of buildings, it was common for all of them to be elevated off the ground. However, given that this is a Martial Arts Hall, the elevation is a bit higher than ordinary buildings as the it features a network of springs beneath the floor allowing for some spring in your step.

This is yet another area where the restoration of the hall shines as it is (currently) one of two where you’ll still find springs beneath the floor, adding to the ‘completeness’ mentioned above.   

The next similarity is that both sides of the building were designed using the traditional Japanese Irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) architectural design. What this means is that the building makes use of a variation of the ‘hip-and-gable’ roof, and that the base of the building, known as the ‘moya’ (母屋) was constructed in a way that it is much smaller than the roof, but is able to support its weight. In this case, the roof, which isn’t nearly as grand in design as the Taichung Prison Martial Arts Hall only slightly eclipses the base. That being said, the subdued design of the roof doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t a lot going on as it seamlessly ‘cuts’ from the higher section of the Martial Arts Hall to the lower annex section.

This where you’ll find the next important architectural similarity - The roof of the Martial Arts Hall and the annex was designed using the ubiquitous kirizuma-zukuri (妻造的樣式) style, which is one of the oldest and most commonly used designs in Japan. Translated simply as a “cut-out gable” roof, this style of design is one of the simplest of Japan’s various ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs.

The vast majority of the information you’ll find available about the Martial Hall’s architectural design mentions that the roof was constructed using traditional Japanese black tiles (日式黑瓦), but doesn’t really go much further in explaining the finer details of the roof. Fortunately, I’ve been at this for a while, so I’m able to provide a little more in terms of the design aspects of the roof where you’ll find the following as listed on the diagram below.   

  1. Hiragawara (平瓦 /ひらがわら) - A type of arc-shaped clay roofing tile.

  2. Munegawara (棟瓦 /むねがわら) - Ridge tiles used to cover the apex of the roof.

  3. Onigawara (鬼瓦/おにがわら) - Decorative roof tiles found at the ends of a main ridge.

  4. Nokigawara (軒瓦/のきがわら) - The roof tiles placed along the eaves lines.

  5. Noshigawara (熨斗瓦/のしがわら) - Thick rectangular tiles located under ridge tiles.

  6. Sodegawara (袖瓦/そでがわら) - Cylindrical sleeve tiles

  7. Tsuma (妻/つま) - The triangular shaped parts of the gable on the roof under the ridge.

  8. Hafu (破風板/ はふいた) - Bargeboards that lay flat against the ridge ends to finish the gable.

To describe it simply, a kirizuma-style roof has a section that ‘cuts’ out from the rest and faces outward like an open book (入), while the longer part is curved facing in the opposite direction.

In this specific case, if we think of the building as a single structure rather than one that is split in two, it is shaped somewhat like the letter “U”. The highest (and longest) section of the roof curves like an open book with the two ends acting as the ‘cut out’ sections. It then meets with the two branches that face in the opposite direction, which are also curved like an open book.  

Even though I mentioned above that the roof of this Martial Arts Hall isn’t as grand in comparison, it is still quite complicated in its architectural design and it’s 3D-like appearance. I recommend anyone who visits to walk around the entire perimeter of the building so that you can fully appreciate the complexity of its design. 

One thing you’ll want to keep in mind is that the black tiles mentioned had to be completely replaced with newer tiles, so the roof doesn’t as appear as ‘historic’ as it probably should.

You can find some very thorough displays featuring the original tiles within the annex building, which I highly recommend you take some time to enjoy.

Now, let’s talk about how the two parts of the building are different. 

Starting with the Martial Arts Hall side, it was constructed with a concrete base, bricks and reinforced concrete on the exterior and wood within the interior. The front facade of the building makes use of a fusion style of architectural design in that it features Western-style Art-Deco elements with the inclusion of a traditional Japanese-style kurumayose (車寄/くるまよせ) porch directly in the middle of the building.

The porch had to be completely rebuilt during the recent restoration process, and features a similarly designed kirizuma-style roof facing in the opposite direction of the roof above, adding to the three dimensional design of the building. This would have proven to be one of the most difficult aspects of the restoration project as the team would have had to consult nearly century-old blueprints to faithfully reconstruct the portico.

One of the design similarities that you’ll find on this building and others built during the Showa era are the wooden-panel glass windows that mix with the reinforced concrete on three sides of the building. With two of the large windows on each side of the porch on the front of the building as well as three on the eastern and western sides, the windows allow for a considerable amount of natural light in the building when the sun is up. 

Moving on to the interior of the building, the hall is split into two sections (hence the three buildings mentioned above) where half of the building was reserved as a space for Judo (柔道場) while the other half was reserved for Kendo (劍道場). Both sides of the building feature the same hardwood spring floor (彈簧地板) that allows the floor to better absorb the shock of people constantly being thrown around.

The interior space has a height of 270 centimeters in the main building with the total interior space listed as 206.2㎡. What that number unfortunately doesn’t tell us is the exact measurement of space reserved for each section of the building. Even though the Martial Arts Hall is relatively small in comparison to the others around Taiwan, the interior space of the main building remains quite spacious as it was always more or less a completely open space.

Working together with the windows on the three reinforced-concrete sides of the Martial Arts Hall, you’ll find another large windowed section on the side of the building directly opposite to the door. The wooden annex section of the building has two wings that face outward from the rest of hall separated by this space.

The smaller wing on the right is where the restrooms were located, while the larger side on the left was the administrative and living space for those who worked at the hall.  As you pass through the Martial Arts Area you’ll find another door to your left that would have served as the main entrance for those working or living there. Directly next to that porch area you’ll find two rooms with tatami mats on the floor.

The first of the rooms you’ll find in the annex section would have served as a living space, while the room next to that features a “tokonoma” (床の間/とこのま), indicating that it was a sleeping space. These days you’ll find some pretty awesome informative displays about the history and architectural design of the building in these rooms.

As far as I’m concerned, the star of this section is the beautiful ‘engawa’ (緣側/えんがわ) that reaches around the building in what seems like an almost 90 degree angle. Essentially a glass-covered panel with sliding doors, the space is one that absolutely glows in the afternoon sun, and would have made living in the hall an enjoyable experience, especially with the breeze flowing through the veranda when the sliding doors were open.

On a recent visit to the Qidong Dorms in Taipei, I found myself engaged in a long conversation with a volunteer working there, who is somewhat of an expert in Taiwan’s Japanese-era architecture. One of the things that he mentioned that stuck with me was how these 90 degree glass paneled verandas were something that (at the time) you’d only find here in Taiwan given that there were some variations on traditional Japanese architectural design in the colony. While I’m unsure that it is still the case back in Japan, these ‘L’ shaped glass-covered walls were pretty cool and the natural light that they allowed into the building.

Although, I can’t really imagine the terror you would have felt when a typhoon was rolling through town.

Getting There

 

Address: #18-20 Guangzhou Street, Alley #20, Hsinchu City (新竹市北區廣州街20巷20號)

GPS: 24.804621, 120.960528

Hours: Tuesday - Sunday from 9:00am to 17:00pm. 

Car / Scooter

As always, if you’re driving a car or scooter, I recommend copying the address provided above into your GPS or your Google Maps to map out the route most suitable for you. If you’re in Hsinchu, it shouldn’t take you much time to arrive at the hall given that it is located just outside the historic downtown core of the city.

If you’re driving a car, you should be able to find roadside parking nearby on Beida Road (北大路), but you may have to circle around to find a space. Unfortunately, paid parking lots are somewhat of a distance away, so if you find yourself searching for a spot you might just want to go to one of the paid spaces near the jail.

If you’re driving a scooter on the other hand, you can park directly across the street, or in any of the designated scooter parking spaces nearby. You could even park in the alley directly across from the main entrance to the hall if you’re visiting on a day when there aren’t many tourists.

Bus

With a bus stop located directly across the street from the Martial Arts Hall, getting there by bus is one of your best options if you find yourself in town without access to your own means of transportation.

From the Hsinchu Railway Station, you can conveniently take either Bus #10, or Bus #23 to the hall, getting off at the aptly named Service Centre Bus Stop (服務中心站).

Click on the links provided above to access time tables for each of the bus routes.

YouBike

Another excellent way to get around Hsinchu is to enjoy the city on one of the YouBikes that are available for rent. If you arrive in town on the train, you can easily grab a Youbike near the station and explore all that the historic city has to offer at your own leisure.

You may have heard that Hsinchu is somewhat notorious for its chaotic traffic, but riding a Youbike around town is actually quite comfortable thanks to the wide roads.

From the train station, it’s a 1.4km ride to the Martial Arts Hall riding along Linsen Road (林森路) and Shengli Road (勝利路), both of which are large bike friendly roads. There are a number of locations where you’ll probably want to stop along the way, so I recommend using Google Maps on your phone to map out your route so you don’t get lost.

Trust me, Hsinchu is a city where you can easily find yourself losing your way while exploring the historic streets. That’s not entirely a bad thing though.

If you’ve been following all of the work I’ve done on the Martial Arts Halls of Taiwan over the past few years, it should be fairly obvious from this article that I’m quite pleased with the addition of this particular hall the collection. Not only was its restoration and subsequent re-opening somewhat unexpected, I have to give the Hsinchu City Government some massive props for the amazing restoration job as well as the effort put into providing informative and educational materials about the history of the hall, the juvenile prison and the city during the Japanese-era.

What amazed me most were the detailed and graphic heavy descriptions of the architectural design of the hall, something that I often have to spend quite a bit of time researching.

Very few of the other remaining Martial Arts Halls around the country today offer even a fraction of the detailed historic information as this one, so if I’m this impressed, I’m sure others may also appreciate the hard work put into making this Martial Arts Hall a great spot to visit!

References

  1. 新竹少年刑務所演武場 (Wiki)

  2. 新竹少年刑務所 (Wiki)

  3. 臺灣的武德殿 (Wiki)

  4. 新竹州 | Shinchiku Prefecture (Wiki)

  5. 台灣武德殿發展之研究 (黃馨慧)

  6. 市定古蹟「新竹少年刑務所演武場」 修繕動工 (自由時報)

  7. 新竹監獄化身藝文空間!「新竹少年刑務所演武場」開館,一窺日治時期古蹟木構磚造建築特色 (Shopping Design)

  8. 新竹少年刑務所演武場 (國家文化資產網)

  9. 新竹少年刑務所演武場 (Path of Sunrise)

  10. 新竹日治時代監獄變身藝文空間!走進演武場的前世今生 (LaVie)

  11. 新竹武德殿 (The Memory of Hsinchu City)

  12. The Martial Arts Halls of Taiwan


Qiding Railway Tunnels (崎頂子母隧道)

I’ve spent a considerable amount of time over the past year taking photos, researching, and writing about Japanese-era related railway destinations around the country. Having posted articles about railway museums, railway factories, railway stations and dormitories, today’s subject is somewhat of a new one for me as I haven’t had the chance to write about railway tunnels thus far. 

Given that my main focus with these articles is related to Japanese-era architecture, you might wonder why I’d make an effort to write about a set of tunnels - Sure, they date back to the colonial era, but their architectural significance is clearly not what I usually spend my time writing about. For many reasons however, these two tunnels located in northern Miaoli are historically significant, and they are actually rather photogenic, if I’m telling the truth.

That being said, I’ve always found it a bit strange when I’m out taking photos of all of these beautiful old Japanese-era buildings that I rarely ever come across Instagram influencers taking a billion photos of themselves with all of their weird poses, while a couple empty railway tunnels in Miaoli attracts them them like vultures hovering over a dead body. 

Coincidentally, even though I’ve had these tunnels on my list of places to visit for quite a while, it wasn’t actually me who suggested visiting. I had planned a day trip along the Coastal Railway taking photos of the so-called Miaoli Three Treasures (苗栗三寶), three stations located along the coastal railway that have each been in service for a hundred years. To take away from the monotony of visiting a bunch of railway stations, my significant other suggested we add these tunnels as part of our itinerary, to which I agreed. 

Link: Miaoli Three Treasures: Dashan Station, Tanwen Station, Xinpu Station

For reasons I don’t particularly understand, these century-old tunnels are considerably more popular than the vast majority of the restored Japanese-era buildings that have opened to the public as culture parks. So, when the local government re-opened them as part of the Qiding Tunnel Culture Park (崎頂隧道文化公園), all it took was a few clever Instagram posts, and a scene reminiscent of a popular Japanese anime to turn the area into an overnight sensation, with people coming from all over the country to visit. 

But before I start to introduce the tunnels, allow me a quick minute of your time to rant about something that I think is pretty important: Miaoli is a pretty special place, almost like a country of its own if you will - It’s also a very historic place, with a considerable amount of locations that are significant with regard to Taiwan’s history. Unfortunately Miaoli has been run into the ground by successive local governments that have one after another bankrupted the county. Given that there is so little money to go around, it shouldn’t be a huge surprise that the local government is forced to be very particular about the historic sites that they choose to restore when the annual budget is released. 

In recent years, these Qiding Tunnels, as well as some other railway tunnels have received some much needed attention and have opened up as popular tourist attractions, and that’s great. However, there are other historic sites, which are arguably more important and require more attention.

Within the vicinity of these tunnels, you’ll find the so-called ‘three-treasures’ mentioned above, each of which are desperate for a little attention. Similarly parts of the Tungxiao Shrine have yet to receive much attention, despite the amount of tourists that visit. In addition to Japanese-era sites, there is also a long list of other buildings that span hundreds of years of Taiwan’s history that are being sorely neglected. 

My point here is not to say that important restoration funding being provided for these tunnels was a bad decision - in fact I’m happy when any historic structure gets restored, but I think it does point to a larger problem with regard to a lack of priorities from the local government.

Miaoli is a huge county that spans almost 2000 square kilometers from the mountains to the coast, and my sincere hope is that the local government can at some point turn things around and get back on track so that these issues can be addressed in a responsible manner.  

Ok, thats the end of my rant. As I move on below, I’m going to focus simply on the history of these tunnels, and will spend some time on the culture park that is located there today. I’ll also talk a bit about the train station that is an important part of the park, and contributes to the popularity of the area today. Before I do that though, I’ll provide a brief explanation of the historical signifiance of the area.

Laoquqi / Kicho / Qiding (老衢崎 / きちょ / 崎頂)

The Qiding area, known historically as ‘Laoquqi’ (老衢崎) is located just across the border from Hsinchu County as you pass into Miaoli, and is currently part of Zhunan Township (竹南鎮), separated from the rest of the town by Jianbi Mountain (尖筆山). Amazingly, this quiet part of town was part of a strategically important historic road system that allowed people to travel from the north to south and vice versa. 

The road was strategic in that it was close enough to the coast, but far away enough from the mountains that people could pass by relatively safely. This was due to the fact that prior to the arrival of the Japanese, the area was scarcely populated, and the further you moved inland, the higher the percentage you had of never returning. During the Qing dynasty, transporting goods by land was a treacherous enterprise, and the indigenous people didn’t take kindly to immigrants from China - or anywhere else for that matter - encroaching on their territory. 

That being said, two separate events have made the ‘Laoquqi’ area stand out as it was the setting for an important battle, and the arrest of a renowned rebel leader. Starting with the latter, in 1786 (乾隆51年), Lin Shuangwen (林爽文), leader of the Heaven and Earth Society (天地會), a secretive Anti-Qing group, formed an army of Ming-loyalists and quickly incapacitated the weak hold that the Qing governors held over Taiwan.

In response, the emperor quickly sent troops to Taiwan to put down the rebellion, but the poorly organized army found themselves easily bested by the rebels who knew the land much better. The turning point in the short-lived war however came when the rebels started murdering the Hakka and Teochew immigrants, resulting in them forming their own militias and working together with the Qing forces to put down the rebellion. With his army’s defeat, Lin Shuangwen retreated and was later found hiding in the Laoquqi area where he was arrested and then later executed. 

The rebellion may have only lasted for a year, but its ramifications have had long lasted effects on Taiwan, making it one of the island’s most significant military-related events, and even though the man himself was branded as a criminal and a rebel, his reputation has somewhat improved over the years as his ‘bravery’ at taking on the Qing rulers is something that the Chinese Nationalists tried to capitalize given that they waged the same battle.

Making things a little more interesting, both Sun Yat-Sen (孫中山) and Chiang Kai-shek were members of the same secretive society that Lin himself was once a prominent leader in.

Link: Linshuang Wen Rebellion | Tiandihui (Wiki)

Then, in 1895 (明治28), shortly after the Japanese took control of Hsinchu, a group of anti-Japanese rebels started massing on Jianbi Mountain in an attempt to prevent Japanese forces from moving further south.

The group, numbering around 7000, put up a valiant effort against the Japanese, who outnumbered them and were better equipped, resulting in a relatively quick defeat.

Still, like the situation above, they are remembered today for their heroic efforts. 

What do either of these events have to do with the tunnels? Not a lot. 

But they do cement the fact that the area we currently refer to as Qiding has been a significant one throughout Taiwan’s modern development and that there are quite a few stories to be told thanks to these beautiful little hills along the western coast. 

Fortunately those stories are told as you pass through the tunnels and make your way along the newly created culture park that offers informative guides about the history of the area. 

Kichō #1 and #2 Tunnels (崎頂隧道)

You might be thinking, they’re just a couple of tunnels, how could they be all that important? 

And sure, I’d tend to agree, but when it comes to the Japanese, there has always been a bit of an obsessive compulsive tendency to ensure that things run as efficiently as humanly possible. These tunnels are essentially a result of that cultural drive for perfection in all things and their construction was an important step in ensuring the efficiency of the Western Trunk Railway, years after it went into service. 

Construction on the Kicho #1 and #2 Tunnels (崎頂一號隧道 崎頂二號隧道), better known today as the “Qiding Tunnels” (崎頂隧道) or the “Qiding Mother and Son Tunnels” (崎頂子母隧道) started in 1926 (昭和元年) and were completed two years later in 1928 (昭和三年). 

Something important that you’ll want to keep in mind is that 1926 was officially the inaugural year (元年) of the Showa Emperor’s (昭和皇帝) rule, and as it was a period of transition within Japan, it as also an important year for the construction of ambitious projects across Japan, and here in Taiwan as celebrations were taking place throughout the empire for the new era.

The Jūkan Tetsudo Project (ゅうかんてつどう / 縱貫鐵道), otherwise known as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway Project’ sought to have the railroad pass through all of Taiwan’s already established settlements, including Kirin (基隆), Taihoku (臺北), Shinchiku (新竹), Taichu (臺中), Tainan (臺南) and Takao (高雄). Completed in 1908 (明治41), the more than four-hundred kilometer railway connected the north to the south for the first time ever, and was all part of the Japanese Colonial Government’s master plan to ensure that Taiwan’s precious natural resources would be able to flow smoothy out of the ports in Northern, Central, and Southern Taiwan. 

After several years of operation however, the Railway Department of the Governor General’s Office (臺灣總督府交通局鐵道部) came to the conclusion that the existing track between Kozan (香山驛 / こうざんえき) and Chikunan (竹南驛/ちくなんえき) had some fundamental issues that needed to be resolved as the stretch of rail around the Jianbi Mountain (尖筆山) area needed to be addressed. The railway, which originally traveled directly from Kozan to Chikunan (Currently Xiangshan and Chunan) featured the 146 meter-long Jianbi Mountain Tunnel (尖筆山隧道), and an unfavorably steep incline that slowed trains down.

Given that the late 1920s thrust Chikunan Station into a more important role as it was where the Mountain Line (山線) and the Coastal Line (海岸線) split, there would have been a considerable amount of freight traffic passing through the area in addition to passenger trains. The inefficiency of the single-lane tunnel forced the railway engineers to come up with plans for the Jianbi Mountain Railway Improvement Project (尖筆山附近改良線), which rerouted the railroad through Kicho (崎頂) on the western side of the mountain and then south-east into Chikunan. 

As a result, the railway added the “Kicho Signal Station” (崎頂信号場 / きちょしんごうじょう) in 1928 (昭和3年), which three years later was upgraded into Kicho Railway Station (崎頂驛 / きちょえき). However, as the railway was rerouted to the western side of Jianbi Mountain, the problem still remained that the railway would at some point have to pass through a mountain tunnel prior to arriving in Qiding.

This time the engineers solved a couple of issues: 

  1. The tunnels were constructed in an area where there wasn’t an incline.

  2. The tunnels were constructed to be wide enough to allow two lanes of traffic to pass through.

The first tunnel (一號) has a length of 130.78 meters while the second (二號) is 67.48 meters, both of which have a width of 8 meters each, making them wide enough for dual rails. The lower potion of each of the tunnels was fortified with reinforced concrete while the curved upper half has beautiful red brick masonry, which is considered to be rather unique for the construction of rail tunnels like this in Taiwan. It also ensured that the tunnels were extremely durable as the high-quality materials have allowed the tunnels to remain intact for close to a century. 

For most English speakers, I’m assuming that naming of the tunnels seems a bit generic - However, for reasons I don’t particularly understand, they have been nicknamed by locals as the “Mother and Son tunnels” (子母隧道), which I’m assuming is due to the fact that one of them is longer than the other? Personally, I prefer to stick with #1 and #2 for clairity sake.

Anyway, they’re just railway tunnels, there’s not much else to say about them save for the events of the Second World War, and their ultimate abandonment. 

In 1945 (昭和20年), during the latter stages of the Second World War, the frequency of allied airstrikes on Taiwan had increased considerably, and the railway was one of their favorite targets. Chikunan Station for example was bombed on several occasions and as the trains stretched along the coast they became sitting ducks for bombers. The tunnels thus became an important area for not only hiding trains as the airstrikes were taking place, but also a safe space for the locals to evacuate. Knowing this, the allies often fired machine guns from the air at the tunnels and today you can still find traces of these attacks within the tunnels in the form of bullet holes. 

In the 1970s when the Taiwan Railway Administration started to electrify the railway, the clearance within the tunnels proved to be insufficient, so the railway had to once again be diverted. The tunnels were officially abandoned in 1978 (民國67年) when the electrified route between Keelung (基隆) and Jhunan (竹南) was completed. 

On June 24th, 2005, the tunnels were registered as as Miaoli County Protected Historic Site (苗栗縣歷史建築) and funding was allocated through the Jhunan Township Office (竹南鎮公所) to restore the area and open it up for tourism. Soon after the Qiding Tunnel Cultural Park (崎頂隧道文化公園) was opened, offering a walking path from the nearby railway station to the tunnels and includes some informative displays for visitors to learn about the history of the area. 

And then shortly after they became a huge hit on Instagram and people from all over Taiwan started visiting! 

Qiding Railway Station (崎頂火車站)

Taking into consideration how Qiding Railway Station is the starting point for most people’s visit to the culture park, I’m going to take just a minute to talk about the railway station in its current existence, and why it is an Instagram hot spot in its own right. 

First, as mentioned above, Qiding Station first opened in 1931 (昭和6年) as a small Japanese-style wooden station similar to that of nearby Xiangshan Station, Dashan Station and Tanwen Station. Unfortunately in 1996 (民國85年) that station was torn down and replaced with an unimpressive-looking modern structure.

The highlight of the station however isn’t actually the station itself.

To reach the station you have to walk down a steep set of stairs, which has become a popular Instagram spot thanks to its resemblance to a scene in the popular 2016 Japanese anime titled “Your Name” (你的名字/ 君の名は). Taking inspiration from the real-life stairs at the Suga Shrine (須賀神社) in Shinjuku, Tokyo, the stairs at Qiding Station have become a popular spot for young Taiwanese couples who recreate the scene for Instagram or even wedding photos. 

No matter what your reason for visiting, the Qiding Tunnel Culture Park is a nice spot to spend part of your day if you find yourself in the area. If you’re there just for the Instagram photos, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself as the area really is quite picturesque.

I know I tend to go far too in-depth with these things, but with so little historical information available about the area, I hope this article helps people understand the tunnels a bit more. 

Getting There

 

Address: No. 12, Nangang St, Zhunan Township, Miaoli County (苗栗縣竹南鎮南港街12號)

GPS: 24.730040, 120.878690

As is the case with any of my articles about Taiwan’s historic railway-related destinations, I’m going to say something that shouldn’t really surprise you - When you ask what is the best way to get to the this area, the answer should be pretty obvious: Take the train! 

In fact, if you don’t have access to your own means of transportation, be it car, scooter or a bicycle, you’ll discover that it’s going to be somewhat difficult to visit Qiding as it is located in a remote area where public transportation is pretty much non-existent, save for the train! 

Located just across the border from Hsinchu, the Qiding area is only a few stops south of Hsinchu Train Station, so if you’re traveling from the north, getting to the area shouldn’t take that much time. More precisely, Qiding is a fourteen minute ride south from Hsinchu Station on one of Taiwan Railway’s local commuter trains (區間車). That being said, once you’ve arrived at Hsinchu Station, if you’ve taken an express train, you’ll have to get off and transfer to one of the local trains as the express trains won’t stop at Qiding Station. 

From Qiding Station, the tunnels are a short walk away through a well-developed tourist path, so you shouldn’t have much trouble finding your way. 

If you have access to your own means of transportation, you should be able to get yourself to the area quite easily if you input the address or the GPS provided above. There are however two different sides to the park that you’ll want to keep in mind. The first is the northern portion, which is closest to the tunnels.

This area is located along a very narrow road, but provides an ample amount of free parking. If you’re driving a car, this is probably the better area to park, but getting in and out can be somewhat treacherous as the road to the parking lot wasn’t constructed to accommodate a lot of traffic.

The other area where you can park is on the southern side closer to the train station. This side only allows for road-side parking, but can be rather difficult to find a space when the area is busy. 

If you’re driving a scooter on the other hand, both sides are pretty easy to get to and you’ll easily find a place to park your scooter.

Finally, if you’re out for the day enjoying the beautiful Xiangshan Wetlands (香山濕地) on your bicycle, or a rented YouBike, with a little extra effort, you’ll also be able to enjoy the Qiding Area as it is a short detour off of the southern portion of the popular coastal bike path. The tunnels are a little over five kilometers from Xiangshan Train Station, and you’ll get to pass by the popular Xiangshan Sand Dunes (香山沙丘), the Sound of the Sea (海之聲) in the southern section of the wetlands. 

References

  1. 崎頂車站.當日光穿透過子母隧道時 (旅行圖中)

  2. 崎頂一、二號隧道 (Wiki)

  3. 尖筆山隧道 (Wiki)

  4. 崎頂車站 (Wiki)

  5. 說走就走的親子半日遊,苗栗火車小旅行 漫步崎頂車站與子母隧道 (微笑台灣)

  6. [苗栗竹南].崎頂鐵路懷舊隧道 (Tony的自然人文旅記)

  7. 見證歷史的小鎮──崎頂 (民報)

  8. Venturing Forth —Taiwan’s Branch Rail Lines (台灣外交部)

  9. Qiding Tunnels (苗栗旅遊網)