Japanese Colonial Era

Taiwan’s Remaining Japanese-era Train Stations (台鐵現存日治時期車站)

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Over the past year or so, I’ve found myself spending a considerable amount of time researching the history of the railroad in Taiwan. Obviously, much of the rail network that we know and love today is primarily a result of the fifty-year Japanese Colonial Era, so as part of my evolving research and personal interest in that period of Taiwan’s history, I've been traveling around the country taking photos of a collection of century old stations.

That being said, over much of that time, I’ve been focused primarily on a specific group of stations known locally as the ‘Five Treasures of the Coastal Railway’ (海岸線五寶), with the lingering thought in the back of my mind that there are still dozens of others around the country that I’ll eventually have to visit. 

When it comes to these things, I tend to be a pretty organized person, so while writing about the Five Treasures, I came to the conclusion (mostly for my own research purposes) that I should compile a list of all of those stations. In this way, I could better allocate my time and ensure that whenever I travel, I’m able to use my time more wisely.

Taichung Train Station (台中車站)

While compiling the list however, I ended up discovering that there are very few authoritative resources that focus on these historic stations, or any that offer a complete list of what actually remains standing today. 

To solve this problem, I dove deep into that rabbit hole and compiled a comprehensive list of over sixty historic Japanese-era stations that continue to exist in some form today. The final result is a list that is divided into various sections based on the branch of the railway where you’ll find them, including stations that belong to the historic sugar and forestry lines. Moreover it offers information as to their current operational status as well as their original Japanese-era names. I’ve also added a list of other railway-related sites, including the three former Railway Bureau Offices (鐵道部) in addition to any railway hospital, dormitory, tunnel or railway-related place of interest that has been restored in recent years.

Historic Taichung Station with the current Taichung Station in the background

That being said, I still consider these lists to be a work in progress, and I’m sure that despite my best efforts, I’ve missed something, which will have to be added in the future.

So, if you are aware of a station or important Japanese-era railway site that I’ve yet to add to the list, I’d be more than happy for your feedback as I hope to see the list continue to evolve over time.

Similarly, as I continue to write new articles about these historic stations, I’ll continue to update links.

You might ask why I feel that these stations are important - they’re just train stations, right? 

Well, given Taiwan’s complicated history of colonial powers exerting control over the island, there has been an unfortunate erasure of history with each successive regime. Coupled with modern development having little-to-no regard for the nation’s history, a large percentage of what we could consider heritage sites across the country have been lost. Sure, we can easily find places of worship that are several hundred years old, but almost everything else has been torn down at some point in time.

Xinbeitou Station (新北投車站)

As I’ve already mentioned, the list I’m providing below features some century-old stations that continue to remain in service today in addition to others that have become historic tourist attractions.

With a total of around two-hundred train stations across the country, many of the originals have already been replaced, making those that remain part of a special group of ‘living’ historic sites, worthy of cultural preservation. 

Westerners might not consider a century-old building all that significant, but given Taiwan’s chaotic experience over the past two hundred years, any building that has been able to survive for so long deserves some respect. Likewise, it’s important to note that the introduction of an island-wide public transportation network was essentially a game changing moment in the development and industrialization of the island.

Shanjia Railway Station (山佳車站)

The railway not only brought modernity and economic opportunity, but also contributed to cultural and social change with railway stations acting as the beating heart of the modern Taiwanese town or city. Suffice to say, the ‘local railway station’ is often romanticized by many in Taiwan who have fond memories growing up with the trains becoming an essential part of their lives.  

As I move on below, I’ll provide a brief introduction to the history of the Japanese-era railway, then I’ll present the lists as well as a map where you’ll find each of the stations.

I hope this list will be of some use to you, but given that I’ve spent a considerable amount of my free time putting it together, and translating all of the names, I hope it won’t just be copied and stolen without contacting me to ask for permission.

Taiwan’s Japanese-era Railway (臺灣日治時期鐵路) 

Hsinchu Railway Station (新竹車站)

The history of Taiwan’s railway network dates as far back as the late stages of the Qing Dynasty when a rudimentary railway was constructed between Keelung and Taipei in the 1890s, with plans to further expand the line all the way to the south. For many, one of the biggest misconceptions of ‘Chinese’ rule here in Taiwan is that they controlled the entire island. They didn’t, and had little aspiration to expand beyond the pockets of the western coast of the island that they did control.

So when the short-lived First Sino-Japanese War (日清戰爭) broke out in 1894, plans for further expansion of the railway were ultimately abandoned due to a lack of funds, and a lack of interest in the island’s development.  

When the Japanese ultimately won that war, one of their demands was that the Qing cede the island of Taiwan (and the Pescadores) to the Japanese empire, which was quickly approved given that many back then considered the island a useless piece of untamed land, full of hostile indigenous peoples.

Tai’an Railway Station (泰安車站)

The Japanese on the other hand saw potential as the island was a massive cache of natural resources. So, in 1895 the Japanese showed up, and quickly got to work on plans to construct a railway network that would allow them to efficiently develop the island for the extraction of its precious natural resources.

Nearing the end of 1895 (明治28年), the colonial regime stationed a group of military engineers known as the ‘Temporary Taiwan Railway Team’ (臨時臺灣鐵道隊) in the northern port city of Keelung to carry out repairs on the existing railway, conduct surveys, and to come up with plans for improvements. Within a year proposals were drawn up to completely re-route the existing rail line from Keelung to Taipei in another direction for better efficiency, and a more ambitious plan known as the Jūkan Tetsudo Project (ゅうかんてつどう / 縱貫鐵道) was born.

Xiangshan Railway Station (香山車站)

Known in English as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway Project,’ the planning team 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), a more than four-hundred kilometer railway.

Completed in 1908 (明治41), the railway connected the north to the south for the first time ever, and was all part of the colonial government’s master plan to ensure that natural resources would be able to flow smoothy out of the ports in Northern, Central, and Southern Taiwan. 

Then, the Railway Department of the Governor General of Taiwan (台灣總督府交通局鐵道部) set its sights on constructing branch lines across the island in addition to expanding the railway along the eastern coast. 

Looking at a map of the railway network today, one thing you’ll notice is that the lines appear to completely encircle the island. From the 1910s until 1945 (and in some cases longer), the network appeared more like an intricate spiderweb of lines with industrial branch lines scattered across the island.

Xinbeitou Station (新北投車站)

As the railway continued to expand across the island, cities and economic opportunity followed, but with limited space, there is only so much that they could construct. Thus, the fifty year period of Japanese colonial rule is often split into two different periods by historians - The period between 1895 (明治31年) and 1926 (昭和元年) is referred to as the period of major railway construction while 1927 (昭和2年) to 1945 (昭和20年) is regarded as the period of railway improvement.

Link: Railway Station Name Change Chart (臺灣日治時期火車站新舊地名對照表)

The vast majority of the railway network’s stations were constructed during the Meiji Era (明治) from the time that Japan took control of Taiwan until 1911. The Taisho (大正) and Showa (昭和) eras then saw continued expansion of the railway, but for the most part many of the rudimentary stations constructed in the early years of the colonial era were replaced or reconstructed, with many of the stations that we can still see today (on the list below). 

Tanwen Railway Station (談文車站)

There are several factors as to why authorities at the time sought to improve the infrastructure network, but I suppose the most obvious was due to the wear and tear caused by natural disasters such as earthquakes and typhoons, which so commonly take place here in Taiwan. The modern construction techniques and materials introduced during the Taisho era meant that instead of constructing buildings purely of timber, reinforced concrete could then be utilized to ensure a longer life for many of the island’s important buildings.

It was also during this time that the railway network was improved with new bridges, tunnels and train engines all working together to improve the efficiency of the network. 

Qidu Railway Station (七堵車站)

Ultimately, the colonial era came to a conclusion at the end of the Second World War and in the seven decades since, Taiwan’s railway (and public transportation network) has continued to grow with the railway finally encircling the entire island. In recent decades we have also seen the widening of tracks and the electrification of the system. Today, the railway in Taiwan is a well-oiled and efficient machine that is of benefit to every one of the twenty-three million people living in the country and works seamlessly with the High Speed Rail as well as the underground subway networks in Taipei, Taichung and Kaohsiung.  

Some pretty horrific things took place during the Japanese era, but it goes without saying that this country wouldn’t be the amazing place it is today if it weren’t for the introduction of the railway.

Now that I’ve said my piece, let's move on to the list of remaining Japanese-era stations. 

Taiwan’s Main Lines (營運路線)

Taiwan’s Main Branch Lines, namely those constructed for both passenger and freight services currently consist of three main sections: the Western Trunk Line (西部幹線), the Eastern Trunk Line (東部幹線) and the South-link Line (南迴線). All three of which were planned for construction during the colonial era, yet only the western and eastern lines were completed before the end of the Second World War.

It would take until 1991 for the South-Link Line to finally connect the eastern and western lines, allowing the railway to finally encircle the entire country.

Chiayi Station (嘉義車站)

There are of course a number of factors involved, but it’s important to note that the majority of stations on the list below are located primarily along Taiwan’s western coast. The Western Trunk Line running between Keelung and Kaohsiung was completed within a decade of the Japanese taking control of Taiwan, while the construction of the eastern coast railway took a little longer.

The eastern coast of the country is prone to earthquakes, and is affected much more by typhoons than the rest of Taiwan, so it’s understandable that many of those historic stations have been lost over time. It’s also important to keep in mind that the western side of the island has experienced considerably more development than the east, so the number of historic railway stations vastly outnumbers what you’ll find along the eastern coast. 

Historic Taichung Station (台中車站)

The list of stations below is organized from north to south and ends on the east coast:

    1. Qidu Station (七堵車站 / Shichito / しちとえき) - Still in operation (moved)

    2. Huashan Station (華山貨運站 / Kabayama / かばやまえき) Not in operation

    3. Shanjia Station (山佳車站 / Yamakogashi / さんかえき) - Still in operation (moved)

    4. Hsinchu Station (新竹車站 / Shinchiku / しんちくえき) - Still in operation

    5. Xiangshan Station (香山車站 / Kozan / こうざんえき) - Still in operation

    6. Tanwen Station(談文車站 / Tanbunmizumi / だんぶんみずうみえき) - Still in operation

    7. Dashan Station (大山車站/ Oyamagashi / おうやまあしえき) - Still in operation

    8. Hsinpu Station (新埔車站 / Shin-ho / しんほえき) - Still in operation

    9. Shenhsing Station (勝興車站 / Jurokufun / じゅうろくふんえき ) - Not in operation

    10. Rinan Station (日南車站 / Oyamagashi / おうやま あしえき) - Still in operation

    11. Qingshui Station (清水車站 / Kiyomizu / きよみずえき) - Still in operation

    12. Chuifen Station (追分車站 / Oikawe / おいわけえき) - Still in operation

    13. Zaoqiao Station (造橋車站 / Zokyo / ぞうきょうえき) - Still in operation

    14. Tongluo Station (銅鑼車站 / Dora / どうらえき) - Still in operation

    15. Tai-an Station (舊泰安車站 / Taian / たいあんえき) - Still in operation (moved)

    16. Taichung Station (台中車站 / Taichu / たいちゆうえき) - Still in operation (moved)

    17. Ershui Station (二水車站 / Nisui / にすいえき) - Still in operation

    18. Dounan Station (斗南車站 / Tonan / となんえき) - Still in operation

    19. Chiayi Station (嘉義車站 / Kagi / かぎえき) - Still in operation

    20. Shiliu Station (石榴車站 / Sekiryu / せきりゅうえき) - Still in operation

    21. Nanjing Station (南靖車站 / 水上駅 / Mizukami / みずかみえき) - Still in operation

    22. Houbi Station (後壁車站 / Koheki / こうへきえき) - Still in operation

    23. Linfengying Station (林鳳營車站 / Rinhoei / りんほうえいえき) - Still in operation

    24. Tainan Station (台南車站 / Tainan / たいなんえき) - Still in operation

    25. South Tainan Station (南台南車站 Shikenshozen / しげんしやうまへ) - Not in operation

    26. Bao-an Station (保安車站 / 車路墘駅 / Sharoken / しゃろけんえき) - Still in operation

    27. Luzhu Station (路竹車站 / Rochiku / ろちくえき) - Still in operation

    28. Qiaotou Station (橋頭車站 / 橋子頭駅 / Hashikotou / はしことうえき) - Still in operation

    29. Kaohsiung Station (舊高雄車站 / Takao / たかおえき) - Not in operation

    30. Sankuaicuo Station (三塊厝車站 / Sankaiseki / さんかいせき) - Still in operation (moved)

    31. Chutian Station (竹田車站 / Takeda / ちくでんえき) - Still in operation

    32. Guanshan Station (關山車站 / Kanzan / かんざんえき) - Still in operation (moved)

    33. Bin-lang Station (檳榔車站 / Hinashiki Teijajō / ひなしきていしゃじょう) - Not in operation 

Branch Lines (產業鐵路)

Most are surprised to learn that the railway that we know today is actually exponentially smaller than the railway of the Japanese era, which was home to dozens of branches off of the main lines.

Connecting important industries to the main transportation network, today, only a few of these branches remain in service. Most notably, the Pingxi Line (平溪線), Neiwan Line (內灣線), Jiji Line (集集線), and the Alishan Line (阿里山線). For the most part, these branch lines weren’t originally constructed with passenger service in mind, they were primarily used for transporting freight and commodities from their point of origin to the main lines so that they could be brought to port. 

The most prominent of these branch lines were the ‘Forestry Lines’ (林業鐵路) and the ‘Sugar Lines’ (糖業鐵路), which were constructed to haul sugarcane and timber, while also providing limited passenger services.

Today, a few of the original stations along those historic lines continue to exist, but for the most part service on these lines have been relegated as tourist attractions as the majority of those rail networks have been removed.

Zhulin Forest Railway Station (竹林車站)

Of those branch lines that continue to provide (limited) service today you’ll find the following:  

Sugar: the Magongcuo Line (馬公厝線), the Xihu Line (溪湖線), the Zhecheng Line (蔗埕線), the Baweng Line (八翁嫌), the Xingang East Line (新港東線) and the Qiaotou Line (橋頭線).

Forestry: the Alishan Forest Railway (阿里山森林鐵路), Taiping Mountain Forest Railway (太平山森林鐵道), the Luodong Forest Railway (羅東森林鐵路) and the Wulai Scenic Train (烏來台車).

To offer an idea of the scale of the Japanese-era railway, the network in Taiwan today is measured at 2,025 kilometers in length while the Japanese-era the branch railways would have tripled that total length with the Sugar Railways alone spanning 2,900km in central and southern Taiwan. 

Below you’ll find some of those stations that continue to exist in some form:   

    1. Jing-tong Station (青銅車站 / 菁桐坑驛 / Seito / せいとうえき) - Still in operation

    2. Xinbeitou Station (新北投車站 / Shinhokuto / しんほくとうえき) - Not in operation

    3. Hexing Station (合興車站) - Still in operation (Completed in 1950)

    4. Kanglang Station (槺榔驛 / Kanran / かんらんえき) - Not in operation

    5. Xihu Station (溪湖車站 / Keiko / けいこえき) - Not in operation

    6. Lukang Station (鹿港車站 / Rokko / ろっこうえき) - Not in operation

    7. Jiji Station (集集車站 / Shushu / しゅうしゅうえき) - Still in operation

    8. Checheng Station (車程車站 / 外車埕驛 / Gaishatei / がいしゃていえき) - Still in operation

    9. Huwei Station (虎尾車站 / Kobi / こびえき) - Not in operation

    10. Suantou Station (蒜頭車站 / Santo / さんとうえき) - Not in operation

    11. Wushulin Station (烏樹林車站 / Ujiyurin / うじゅりんえき) - Not in operation

    12. Yanshui Station (鹽水車站 / Ensui / えんすいえき) - Not in operation

    13. Qishan Station (旗山車站 / Kisan / きさんえき) - Not in operation

    14. Zhulin Station (竹林車站 / Chikurin / ちくりんえき) - Not in operation

    15. Dazhou Station (大洲車站 / Daishu / だいしゅうえき) - Not in operation

    16. Tiansongpi Station (天送埤車站 / Tensohi / てんそうひえき) - Not in operation

    17. Historic Morisaka Station (萬榮工作站 / Morisaka / もりさかえき) - Not in operation

Alishan Forest Railway Branch Line (阿里山林業鐵路)

Beimen Station (北門車站)

One of the Colonial Government’s most ambitious railway construction projects was the Alishan Forestry Branch line, which was constructed to more efficiently transport one of the era’s hottest commodities, Taiwanese cypress (hinoki / ひのき / 檜木).

The branch line has remained in operation for almost a century now, and despite a few setbacks, it remains a popular tourist excursion out of Chiayi. Below, I’m listing some of the Japanese-era stations that remain in operation along the line today.

I should note that there are several ‘stops’ along the way, such as the Sacred Tree Station (神木站), which some may consider to be a Japanese-era station when in fact it is really only just a platform, which is why I haven’t included it in the list.

    1. Beimen Station (北門車站 / Hokumon / ほくもんえき) - Still in operation

    2. Lumachan Station (鹿麻產車站 / Rokuma-san / ろくまさんえき) - Still in operation

    3. Zhuqi station (竹崎車站 / Takezaki / ちくきえき) - Still in operation.

    4. Mululiao Station (木履寮車站 / Mokuriryo / もくりりょうえき) - Still in operation

    5. Jhangnaoliao Station (樟腦寮車站 / Shounoryo / しょうのうりょうえき) - Still in operation

    6. Dulishan Station (獨立山車站 / Dokuritsu-san / どくりつさんえき) - Still in operation

    7. Jiaoliping Station (交力坪車站 / Koriyokuhei / こうりょくへいえき) - Still in operation

    8. Shueisheliao Station (水社寮車站 / Suisharyo / すいしゃりょうえき) - Still in operation

    9. Fenchihu Station (奮起湖車站 / Funkiko / ふんきこ-えき) - Still in operation

    10. Duolin Station (多林車站 / Tarin / たりんえき) - Still in operation

    11. Shitzulu Station (十字路車站 / Jiyuujiro / じゅうじろえき) - Still in operation

    12. Chaoping Station (沼平車站 / Shohei / しょうへいえき) - Reconstructed

Japanese-era railway-related places of interest

Taihoku Railway Department

In addition to the Japanese-era railway stations that remain in Taiwan, there are also a large number of historically important buildings and places of interest with regard to the railway.

The most prominent of these being the three Railway Bureau Offices, which were the geographically strategic offices for the operation and maintenance of the railway.

There are also quite a few other places of interest, and this is where my list will ultimately continue to grow over time as there are a number of railway-related buildings currently in the process of being restored as well as a number of branch line-related sugar factories, which have been converted into culture parks.

Map of Japanese-era Railway Stations

Combining the three lists above, the map I’ve created below features all of the stations and Japanese-era railway-related places of interest in one convenient location. This should help you easily identify where you’ll be able to find these historic locations.

Each of spots on the map features basic information about the stations as well as links to articles about them, if available. 

As you can see from the modest number of links I’ve provided, I still have quite a bit of work to do with regard to documenting the history of these stations - So, as I mentioned earlier, this article is very much a work in progress, and as I continue to work on a number of other ongoing projects, I’ll try to visit as many of these these historic stations as I can while traveling around the country.

That being said, I hope that this list and the map I’ve created for you are both interesting and helpful.

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to get in touch!

Erlin Martial Arts Hall (二林武德殿)

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I can be a patient person, but in some cases, enough is enough.

I’ve had a skeleton of a post about the Erlin Martial Arts Hall in Changhua sitting in my blog queue since 2017, waiting to be published. With little more than a dozen of these historic buildings remaining in Taiwan today, I figured that I’d hold off on publishing anything about this one until it was fully restored and reopened to the public.

My patience though, has sadly worn quite thin.

It got to the point that I thought if I keep waiting for Changhua County to get its act together, I’d likely be a senior citizen by the time they actually get around to restoring this building.

When I originally wrote an article about this Martial Arts Hall more than six years ago, I was still quite new to this whole blogging thing, and was likewise still new to my exploration of Taiwan’s historic buildings from the Japanese era. So, if I compare what I originally wrote years back to what I’m publishing today, it’s not even close.

This article should prove to be a much more well-rounded one that benefits from my years of experience and research on the topic.

That being said, while all of the text has been completely updated, I’m sad to say that the photos I’m sharing right now are the going to be the same as those I had prepared five years ago due to the fact that myself, nor anyone else has really been able to get many photos of the building in recent years.

Essentially, I’m publishing this article today to simply have the information in place for (what I sincerely hope) what will eventually become an updated version, which will be complete with photos of the fully restored building.

Until that happens, I’ll make use of some of the blue prints and designs of the building that have been published by the Changhua County Government to better illustrate some of the things I’m talking about. The work they have done researching the building and it’s architectural design is incredible, and without it, we would know very little about the building, so cheers to them for that!

For those of you who have been following my writing for a while, especially with regard to my Urban Exploration-related work, barriers don’t usually prevent me from getting the photos I need - Sadly though, in the case of this Martial Arts Hall, several factors that have combined to ensure that people like me aren’t snooping around. The most obvious is that building is completely locked up and a barrier has been erected around its perimeter to prevent anyone from getting too close to the historic building.

The other reason is that it is located next door to the Erlin Police Station, which has cameras watching the grounds. So, even though I found a way of getting around the barrier, I wasn't about to go snooping around while the police would be able to see me in plain sight from the police precinct.

So what exactly is the problem with the Erlin Martial Arts Hall and why have we had to wait for so long for it to get fixed up? Well, that’s a bit of a complicated issue, but I’ll do my best to explain it as briefly as possible.

To keep things simple, it’s all about money. Isn’t it always, though?

However, that’s a bit of a simplistic argument as to what’s going on here. As I mentioned earlier, the situation is a lot more complicated than that, and there is an ample amount of blame to be thrown around.

It would be easy to focus our indignation at the Changhua County Government, which as one of the nation’s most cash-strapped municipalities, has had trouble coming up with funding for the restoration of the heritage buildings within its borders - With so little cash to throw around, the county tends to spend it restoring buildings in the coastal town of Lugang (鹿港), one of the areas’s most popular tourist attractions - Obviously hoping that there will be a trickle-down effect that will help bring tourist dollars into the county.

The focus on Lugang obviously has been of great benefit to the people of Lugang, and its tourism sector, but the other townships within the county have more or less been left behind.

The blame here though cannot be placed solely on the local government as there are land ownership issues taking place here that have complicated the matter. Currently there are six land owners, who, in addition to the government own pieces of the land where the Martial Arts Hall is located.

Several years ago, the landowners got together and made an offer to sell the land to the government for NT $850 million (about $2.5 Million USD), which is an outrageous amount of money for the 400 square meter plot of land.

Link: 恢復二林武德殿風采 地主開價8500萬 (自由時報)

Unable to fork over so much of the public’s funds for the land, the Martial Arts Hall’s designation as a 'protected historic site’ ensures that the land owners are also handcuffed, and are unable to do any sort of construction on the land, making the issue a contentious one for all parties involved.

The only option at this point is for the landowners to sell the property to the government, but with the government refusing to pay the asking price, both parties have decided to just wait the other out to see who concedes first.

The most dangerous aspect of this financial stalemate is that if the landowners eventually get tired of waiting for the government to pay up, they may just enlist the assistance of local gangs to have the buildings burnt to the ground, which is something that has sadly become far too common as of late when it comes to historic and protected properties.

For those of us who care about these heritage buildings, the only thing we can do is continue being patient. However, as I mentioned earlier, I’ve grown tired of seeing this article sitting in my blog queue.

With all of that being said, on May 18th, 2023, a ceremony was held in front of the Martial Arts Hall marking the start of the restoration of the building, with several local figures in attendance. It seems like the saga of the Erlin Martial Arts Hall’s status has been resolved, and work will soon get underway to have it opened up as a cultural park, and tourist destination within the downtown core of the historic village.

Link: 彰化文化資產容積轉移首例 二林武德殿等20年今動工整修 (lian he聯合新聞網)

I will make sure to keep up with any of the updates regarding the hall’s restoration, and when it’s opened, I’ll be sure to make my way down to visit.

Before I start explaining the history of the Martial Arts Hall, it’s important to note that I’ve streamlined the way I write about these spaces.

In this article, I’m only going to focus about the history and architectural design of this specific building - So, in order to keep it shorter, I’ve removed some of the original elements that focused on the ‘general purpose’ of these Martial Arts Halls - Even though it should be fairly obvious that this building was once a space for practicing Martial Arts, the original intent and the significance of these buildings requires a bit more reading to understand the role that they played in communities across Taiwan.

To better explain all of that, I’ve put together a general introduction to Taiwan’s Martial Arts Halls, detailing their purpose, their history and where you’re still able to find them today.

If you haven’t already, I highly recommend reading that article before continuing. 

Link: Martial Arts Halls of Taiwan (臺灣的武德殿)

If you’re up to date with all of that, let’s just get into it!

Erlin Martial Arts Hall (二林武德殿)

Unlike many of the other Martial Arts Halls that I have written about in the past, the Erlin branch is probably one of the few remaining Martial Arts Hall that requires an introduction to the town where it was constructed; Even for most locals, if you bring up the name ‘Erlin’ (二林), it’s unlikely that they’ll know where it is, and even more unlikely that they’ve ever been there. So, allow me start by explaining a bit of the geography of the area, which should shed a bit of light as to why a Martial Arts Hall was constructed there.

Known these days as Erlin Township (二林鎮), it’s the largest of Changhua County’s administrative districts, with an area of 92.8578 square kilometers. Erlin features a relatively small urban sprawl surrounded mostly by farmland, which is where the town’s economy has historically been focused. With massive rice, grape and dragonfruit fields, the area isn’t particularly known for its tourist crowds, so most people tend to pass through on their way to other destinations in the area.

Originally settled by the Tackay Tribe (二林社), a group of Taiwan’s Plains Indigenous peoples (平埔族), known as the Babuza (巴布薩族), the area is and always has been an important farming community throughout the history of human settlement on the island.

During the Dutch period, a considerable amount of trade between the Dutch and the Indigenous people took place between the two groups, resulting in the Dutch constructing berths for ships along the coast. However, after the expulsion of the Dutch by Koxinga’s forces, the situation remained more or less the same for the Babuza people, who maintained their control over the land from the late 1600s until 1895, as they continued their trade with the Han people.

All of that came to an end with the arrival of the Japanese, who quickly got to work at ensuring that they maintained complete control over the island, often with violent means of suppression, especially when it came to the indigenous people.

By the 1920s, ‘Jirin’ (二林街 / じりんがい), as it had become known to the Japanese was designated a township within Hokuto County (北斗郡 / ほくとぐん) within greater Taichu Prefecture (臺中州 / たいちゅうしゅう).

It was during this period that the Japanese had constructed numerous Sugar Plantations (糖廠) around the island, with the vast majority of them located within central and southern Taiwan where the temperate climate allowed for massive fields of sugar cane to be cultivated.

With over 3000 kilometers of sugar-railways across the island, Erlin just so happened to find itself located in one of the geographic hot-spots, and even though the factories were somewhat of a distance away, the town benefitted economically through the industry.

Japanese-era map of Erlin with the location of the Martial Arts Hall marked in red.

Much of Erlin’s urban development started during this period with the colonial government constructing a number of large administrative buildings, schools, hospitals and clinics, and modern markets within the ever-expanding downtown core of the town. In 1928, construction started on the Erlin Police Precinct (北斗郡警察課二林分室), located within the administrative district of the town, close to Erlin Public School (二林公校).

Located on a corner that shared an intersection with a hospital, the town hall and a long row of administrative housing, the police precinct would have been situated within what would have been considered the ‘Japanese’ area of town, with some separation from the local farming community.

In 1900 (明治33年), a few years after the Japanese took control of Taiwan, the first Martial Arts Halls on the island started being constructed, with the first branches in Taipei, Taichung and Tainan. Over the years, the ‘Taiwan Butokuden Branch of the Dai Nippon Butoku Kai’ (大日本武德會臺灣支部) slowly expanded across the island, but one of the key developments with regard to these buildings came in 1920 (大正9年), when the organization was given a directive (and more importantly funding) from the government to start construction on these buildings within each of Taiwan’s prefectures towns, villages and boroughs.

This resulted in the construction of about two hundred of them across the island (and in Penghu, too) between the 1920 and the early 1940s.

Of those two-hundred halls, thirty were constructed within Taichu Prefecture (臺中州), an area that spanned modern day Taichung City (臺中市) Changhua County (彰化縣) and Nantou County (南投縣). They consisted of two Prefectural Branches (支部), eleven town branches (支所), twelve borough branches (分會), two prison branches (刑務所) and three school branches (學校分會).

That being said, the area we know today as ‘Changhua County’ was only home to five branches: Lugang Martial Arts Hall (鹿港武德殿), Changhua Martial Arts Hall (彰化武德殿), Yuanlin Martial Arts Hall (員林武德殿), Beidou Martial Arts Hall (北斗武德殿) and Erlin Martial Arts Hall (二林武德殿). With the exception of the Martial Arts Hall in Lugang, which was constructed in 1911 (明治44年), the rest were constructed between 1930 (昭和5年) and 1933 (昭和8年).

However, one of the important things to remember is that even though a number of Martial Arts Halls were constructed across Taiwan during the early 1930s, not all of them were equal. As I noted above, the halls adhered to a hierarchical organizational structure which helped to determine their size, depending on their location and their function.

The Changhua Martial Arts Hall, for example was classified as a ‘city-level’ hall as it was constructed within Shoka (Changhua City / 彰化市 / しょうかし). A bit lower on the ladder would have been the Yuanlin and Beidou Halls, both of which were county-level (郡市級 / 支所), while the Erlin Martial Arts Hall would have found itself at the lowest level as a village-level branch (街庄級 / 分會).

Not only did these classifications help to determine the size of the buildings, but also the amount of money that would have been invested in their construction. According to historic records, the Changhua Martial Arts Hall was afforded a budget of ¥27,000, while the Erlin Martial Arts Hall had a budget of ¥7500. If we were to calculate these figures in the rates of the day, the construction costs would would be approximately ¥40.2 million ($290,000 US), and ¥11.1 million  ($80,000 US) respectively.

Note: Calculating pre-war Japanese currency against today’s standards is somewhat of a difficult process given that most records only date back to the restructuring of the Japanese economy and inflation in the post-war period. To calculate the number above, I used the following formula: In 1901, corporate goods price index was 0.469 where it is currently 698.6, meaning that one yen in then is worth 1490 yen now. (217,000 x 1490 = 323,330,000)

Link: 昔の「1円」は今のいくら？1円から見る貨幣価値·今昔物語

Suffice to say, with a considerable amount of economic development taking place within Erlin in the early 1930s, the construction of the town’s Martial Arts Hall was a no-brainer for the local authorities. Construction on the building started in 1932 (昭和7年), at a time when the neighboring police precinct was still under construction.  Located to the side of the police station, and close to the Erlin Public School, the hall, like many of its contemporaries was tactically located in a neighborhood where it could have the most effect. The building would serve as a training centre for the local police as well as providing instruction to the children as well.

Interestingly, despite both buildings being constructed almost simultaneously, the police station took a modernist approach to its architecture with an Art-Deco Baroque design. The Martial Arts Hall however, was a no-fuss traditional Japanese style building - and even though it is the smallest of all of the Martial Arts Halls that remains in Taiwan today, its architectural beauty is on par with the rest of them.

On August 4th, 1933 (昭和8年), the Jirin Budokuden (二林武德殿 / じりんぶとくでん), otherwise known as the ‘Erlin Martial Arts Hall’, officially opened for the instruction of Judo (柔道) and Kendo (劍道).

Initially the hall served as a space for the local police to hone their martial arts skills. However, as the Japanese became engaged in the Pacific War and the expansion of their empire, the colonial government in Taiwan instituted a policy of forced assimilation, known as kominka (皇民化運動), which forced the people of Taiwan to take Japanese names, speak only Japanese, and contribute to the empire through military service.

Taking effect in 1938 (昭和13年), the nearly two-hundred Martial Arts Halls across Taiwan played a major role in the assimilation process by promoting ‘Japanese Spirit’ (大和魂), ‘Martial Arts Spirit’ (尚武的精神) and ‘Patriotism’ (愛國的精神) and from then on, the scope of the instructors at the Martial Arts Hall expanded from simply training the police to providing classes to the general public and the nearby Public School as well. They were also tasked with planning speaking events that were meant to promote nationalist sentiment through the propaganda that was disseminated by the colonial government.

Nevertheless, the Second World War came to a conclusion less than a decade later, and as part of their surrender, the Japanese were forced to give up control of Taiwan (and any other territory gained through militarism).

Control of Taiwan was ambiguously awarded to the Republic of China, who sent a governor and military forces to Taiwan in 1945 (昭和20年) in order to set up shop. However, even though the Second World War had come to an end, the Chinese Civil War between the Nationalists and the Communists raged on. It was during this time that administrative control of Taiwan had become an authoritarian mess, resulting in an infamous event that would become known as the 228 Incident (二二八件事).

With the Communists establishing the People’s Republic of China in 1949, President Chiang Kai-Shek (蔣介石) was forced to flee to Taiwan with the remnants of his army, and anyone still loyal to the Republic of China.

The sudden influx of around two million foreign refugees created a housing crisis in Taiwan, and even though the Japanese had left all of their infrastructure intact, the first few years were a nightmare of governance.

Nevertheless, for the next half century, the Erlin Martial Arts Hall maintained its role as a Martial Arts training center with the Republic of China’s police taking over.

One of the areas that wasn’t entirely clear with regard to my research about the Martial Arts Hall is what happened when the Erlin Police Precinct was expanded in the early 1970s. What is clear is that when the expansion project took place, the lack of space in front of the hall caused some issues, so they ended up removing the ‘hafu porch’ that lead to the front door of the hall.

Digging a bit deeper, I discovered that the police station essentially expanded into an ‘L-shaped’ structure that completely blocked the Martial Arts Hall from view.

Even though the Martial Arts Hall remained as a training center for the police, it had essentially disappeared from the view of the general public for the next few decades after the expansion.

By 1999 (民國88年), the buildings utilized by the police in town were being reconstructed, so for a short time time, the Martial Arts Hall was used as an office space prior to their migration to a new building.

With the buildings that surrounded the Martial Arts Hall abandoned, it took a few years before the were demolished, thankfully, with careful consideration taken to preserve the condition of the hall, which had been recognized as a protected heritage property a few years earlier.

After being hidden from sight for almost four decades, the Martial Arts finally made its reappearance in 2008 (民國97年), but as mentioned earlier, its status remains a contentious one as it is a protected heritage property that just so happens to sit on land that is considered part private and part public.

This has understandably frustrated all of the parties involved, and is the main reason why the hall has yet to be restored, like so many of its contemporaries across the country. While I may be accused of a bit of bias on the subject, it really does come across as a missed opportunity for Erlin as the town has recently restored several other historic Japanese-era properties in the downtown area in addition to the promotion of its links to the historic sugar railway. These days there is more and more for tourists to see when the visit the area, so one would hope that at some point there will be a favorable solution to this stalemate.

Before I move onto the architectural design of the Martial Arts, I’m going to provide a brief timeline of events detailing the history of the hall.

Erlin Martial Arts Hall Timeline

  • 1895 (明治28年) - The Japanese Colonial Era begins in Taiwan and the ‘Dai Nippon Butoku Kai was formed in Japan in order to instruct ordinary citizens in the various Japanese Martial Arts disciplines.

  • 1900 (明治33年) - The first Martial Arts Halls start to appear in Taiwan with branches in Taipei, Taichung and Tainan.

  • 1920 (大正9年) - A governmental directive is made to construct Martial Arts Halls in each of Taiwan’s prefectures, towns, villages and boroughs.

  • 1920 (大正9年) - Due to the Colonial Government’s administrative redistricting plan, Erlin is upgraded into Jirin Town (二林街 / じりんがい), part of Hokuto County (北斗郡 / ほくとぐん) in Taichu Prefecture (臺中州 / たいちゅうしゅう).

  • 1928 (昭和3年) - Construction on the Erlin Police Precinct (北斗郡警察課二林分室) officially starts with a budget of ¥17,000.

  • 1932 (昭和7年) - Construction on the Erlin Martial Arts Hall with a budget of ¥7500 and is located next door to the police station.

  • 1933 (昭和8年) - Construction on the hall is completed in July and the munafuda (棟札 / むなふだ) raising ceremony is held a month later on August 4th, marking the opening of the hall.

  • 1936 (昭和11年) - The Colonial Government’s “Japanization” or ‘forced assimilation’ Kominka (皇民化運動) policy comes into effect in Taiwan.

  • 1938 (昭和13年) - Jirin Public School’s Auditorium (二林公學校禮堂) is constructed and a number of ‘kominka’ events take place within, including Judo classes provided by the instructors from the Martial Arts Hall for the students of the school.

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to a conclusion and Japan is forced to surrender control of Taiwan.

  • 1949 (民國38年) - Chiang Kai-Shek and the government retreat to Taiwan and bring with them several million refugees displaced by the Chinese Civil War.

  • 1972 (民國61年) - Due to the reconstruction of the Erlin Police Precinct, and a lack of space caused by a number of buildings constructed around the perimeter of the Martial Arts Hall, the traditional front porch in the front of the building is removed.

  • 1976 (民國65年) - The ceiling within the building is reconstructed and modern lighting is installed within the interior.

  • 1999 (民國88年) - Due to a lack of office space within the Erlin Police Precinct, the Martial Arts Hall starts being used as an administrative space for the local police.

  • 2004 (民國93年) - The Martial Arts Hall is officially recognized as a Changhua County Protected Heritage Site (彰化縣歷史建築)

  • 2007 (民國96年) - All of the buildings that were constructed around the Martial Arts Hall are carefully demolished, allowing the hall to be viewed by the general public for the first time in decades.

  • 2023 (民國112年) - Restoration of the building is set to get underway with public funds allocated for the creation of a culture park with a focus on the Martial Arts Hall.

Architectural Design

Over the year or two, I’ve written about two of Taiwan’s other smaller Martial Arts Halls, the Taichung Martial Arts Hall (臺中刑務所演武場) and the Hsinchu Prison Martial Arts Hall (新竹少年刑務所演武場), which share a number of similarities with this hall with regard to its architectural design. Each of the three buildings were constructed in the early 1930s, and although two of them were used as extensions of the Japanese-era prison system, in a lot of ways the other two restored halls offer a glimpse into how the Erlin Martial Arts Hall might appear when it is restored. So, today I’ll start by describing their similarities and end with their subtle differences.

One of the defining characteristics of the early Showa-era, the architectural design of these Martial Arts Hall was at heart, traditionally Japanese, but there were also considered east-west fusion-style buildings (和洋混合風格). Constructed with a mixture of brick, wood and reinforced concrete, the hall was constructed during a period of the colonial era where the colonial government had learned through trial and error that any building constructed in Taiwan would have to be able to withstand earthquakes, typhoons and termites. This approach led to traditional Japanese-style buildings having to adapt to a bit of modernity in order to ensure their longevity.

Nevertheless, keeping with tradition, the hall was designed using the irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) style of architectural design. I’m sure not a lot of you are very familiar with the term, so what that means is that the design features a variation of the ‘hip-and-gable’ roof. Similarly, the base of the building, known as the ‘moya’ (母屋) was constructed in a way that even though it is much smaller than the roof, it is easily able to support its massive weight.

Suffice to say, if you’ve ever seen a Japanese building with a roof that eclipses the size of the base by quite a bit, it’s very likely designed in the irimoya-style, or at least in one of its variations.

Similar to the two buildings mentioned above, the exterior of the building consists of washed stone, giving each of them their beige-like color. Likewise, given that these halls required bouncy floors, it was constructed with elevated footings that featured an intricate system of springs below the floor (彈簧地板), which allowed it to better absorb the shock of people constantly being thrown around while practicing Judo.

The original network of springs installed beneath the floor of the building.

The elevated base featured a number of covered ventilation holes, which would have allowed people to climb under to repair any broken springs, while also keeping animals and termites out.

Despite being considerably smaller than the two halls mentioned above, another one of their design similarities is that the mixture of brick and reinforced concrete allowed for a number of large wooden-panel glass windows on every side of the building.

Even though access to the building has been blocked off, blue prints show that its design is essentially the same as every other Martial Arts Hall in Taiwan. The interior space was partitioned into two sides, with the west side reserved for Judo and the east side for Kendo.

Located in the center-rear of the room (directly facing the front door) you would have found a small space reserved for a shrine (神龕), and likely some decorative additions in addition to any trophies or awards won by members of the dojo. 

Interior floor space of the Martial Arts Hall

Now, let’s talk about two of the most important design differences from this hall, and the two mentioned above. Both of which, I’m sure you’ll agree make this one considerably more beautiful than the other two.

First, let’s start out with the piece that’s missing, the front porch. Known in Japan as a ‘kurumayose porch’ (車寄 / くるまよせ) porch, it was essentially a beautifully designed covered-porch that opened up to the front door of the hall. This particular design feature is a popular style of design indicative of Japanese architecture dating back to the Heian Period (平安時代) from 794-1185. While these porches are more commonly associated with Japanese castles, temples, and shrines, its inclusion makes the building stand out a lot more thanks to its addition.

As is the case with this style of porch, it blended in really well with the roof, creating a beautiful 3D-like curvy design. Sadly, as I mentioned earlier, it was removed in 1972 to make way for the construction of a building in front of the hall. On the other hand, we’re actually quite fortunate (compared to the Hsinchu Prison Hall) in that there are both well-preserved blue prints and photos of this hall, which should make reconstructing the porch relatively easy when the time comes.

The most obvious design difference between the Erlin Martial Arts Hall and the other two is with the design of the roof - In this case, the roof is the more traditionally designed and aesthetically-pleasing of the three, giving the building a lot of character. Amazingly, after almost a century, and the demolition of the buildings that surrounded the hall in 2008, the roof remains in pretty good shape.

Expanding on my explanation of irimoya-design earlier, the iconic ‘hip-and-gable roof’ that comes with this design doesn’t necessarily mean that the roof of each building constructed in this style will always appear the same. Introduced to Japan in the sixth century, a number of variations have appeared over the years, making the specific shape of the ‘hip’ and the ‘gable’ important.

Link: Irimoya-zukuri (JAANUS) | East Asian Hip-and-Gable Roof (Wiki)

In this case we have a combination of kirizuma-zukuri (切妻造) and yosemune-zukuri (寄棟造), which is essentially a fusion of a ‘two-sided’ upper ‘hip’ section and a four-sided’ lower ‘gable’ section.

Looking directly from the front, the two-sided hip section of the roof, which is designed to look like the Chinese character “入,” or an ‘open book’, rises to its apex, and extends beyond the base of the building at the bottom. Supporting that part of the roof is the four-sided gable section below, which covers the base of the building and is where you’ll find the majority of the roof trusses that help to distribute the weight of the upper section and keep everything stabilized.

The shape of the roof however is not the only complicated part of its design. There are also a number of decorative elements that also play a very functional role. Using a diagram provided below, I’ll explain each of these important pieces and their purpose.

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

  2. Munagawara (棟瓦 / むながわらあ) - 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.

Link: 台灣日式建築的屋瓦 (空間母語文化藝術基金會) 

Finally, two of the special features with regard to the roof and its decorative elements are the ‘onigawara’ end tiles, which are beautifully decorated with the Chinese character for ‘budo’ (武), which is a bit of a deviation from tradition, but makes the building more easily identifiable.

Likewise, within the triangular ‘tsuma’ (妻) on the east and west ends of the roof, you’ll find what is known as gegyo (懸魚 / げぎょ), which are simply decorative wooden boards in the shape of a ‘hanging fish’ that are used as charms against fire, similar to porcelain dragons you’ll find on the roofs of Taiwanese temples.

Unfortunately, with the restoration of the building yet to take place, the missing front porch, and the inability to gain access to the interior, it’s difficult to say much else with regard to the buildings architectural and interior design.

I might be beating a dead horse here, but I’m eagerly anticipating visiting the area again in the relatively near future to check out the fully restored building. Fortunately, as I mentioned earlier, the original blueprints and designs for the hall have been well-preserved, and there are also a number of historic photos of both the exterior and interior that will greatly assist the restoration team when the time comes. So I’m very much looking forward to the future of this hall, which should be a bright one!

Getting There

 

Address: No. 110, Section 5, Douyuan Rd, Erlin Township, Changhua County (彰化縣二林鎮斗苑路五段110號)

GPS: 23.899570, 120.369830

Erlin Village (二林鎮) is located in south-western Changhua County (彰化縣), close to the border with Yunlin County (雲林縣). Considered a relatively rural town, getting there through public transportation certainly won’t be as convenient as it would be for somewhere like Lugang (鹿港).

It is not impossible though, so if you don’t have access to your own method of transportation, you still have some options.

If you have your own method of transportation, I’m not going to spend too much time offering directions here. Simply input the address or the GPS coordinates provided above into your GPS or Google Maps, and you’ll have your route mapped out quite easily for you.

Public Transportation

While getting to Erlin might be a bit confusing for some, one of the best things about taking public transportation to the area is that the local bus station is located directly next door to the Martial Arts Hall.

There are, of course a number of options for getting to the area, but you’re probably going to have to use a combination of train and bus to get there more conveniently. Below, I’ll provide explanations for how to get to Erlin from each of the closest train stations.

Link: Erlin Bus Station Timetable (員林客運)

Changhua Train Station (彰化車站)

From Changhua Train Station you’ll transfer to Yuanlin Bus (員林客運) bus #6713 or #6714. The shuttle bus doesn’t come that frequently, so you’ll want to be mindful of the time when you go.

From Changhua Station you also have the option of taking Changhua Bus #19 (彰化客運) directly to Erlin, but there are only ten departures per day, so, once again, you’ll want to keep track of the schedule, especially when you’re in Erlin so you won’t miss your bus back to wherever you’re headed.

Link: Yuanlin Bus #6713/6714 schedule | Changhua Bus #19 (彰化 - 二林)

Yuanlin Train Station (員林車站)

Located to the south of Changhua Train Station, your next option is to take the train to Yuanlin Train Station (員林車站) and from there taking Yuanlin Bus #6707 to Erlin. There are only a few shuttles every day, though, so this is probably not your best option.

Link: Yuanlin Bus #6707 (員林 - 二林)

Tianzhong Train Station (田中車站)

If you’re traveling north into Changhua, stopping at Tianzhong Train Station (田中車站) is one of your first options for getting to Erlin. From the station you’ll transfer to Yuanlin Bus (員林客運) bus #6709. However, the shuttle bus comes even less frequently than the option above, so you’ll want to be mindful of the time when you go.

Link: Yuanlin Bus #6709 (田中 - 二林)

Changhua High Speed Rail Station (彰化高鐵站)

Despite being named “Changhua” Station, the High Speed Rail station isn’t actually located within Changhua City, it’s located within Tianzhong Village (田中鎮). If you’re coming from a much further distance, the High Speed Rail is a pretty good option for getting to the area, but you’ll have to transfer from the HSR Station to a shuttle bus that takes you Tianzhong Train Station, and then you’ll follow the directions above and take Bus #6709.

Obviously, as it stands right now, I can't really recommend a trip all the way out to Erlin to see the Martial Arts Hall. There are of course a few other interesting tourist destinations in Erlin, but if you find yourself in Changhua, there are probably some better places for you to spend your time.

Hopefully though, at some point the ownership issues will be resolved and the government can start restoring the Hall to its original condition. When that time finally arrives, I'll make another trip down to check it out and will quickly update this article.

References

  1. 二林武德殿 (Wiki)

  2. 臺灣的武德殿 (Wiki)

  3. 二林鎮 | 彰化縣 (Wiki)

  4. 武德會與武德殿 (陳信安)

  5. 二林武德殿 (國家文化資產網)

  6. 彰化-二林 武德殿 (Just a Balcony)

  7. 二林武德殿：日本武士精神的遺跡 (京築居)

  8. 失而复得的大唐建筑-台湾武德殿 (Willie Chen)

  9. 台灣武德殿發展之研究 (黃馨慧)

  10. 武德殿研究成果報告 (高雄市政府文化局)

  11. 二林武德殿調查研究暨修復計畫 (黃俊銘 / 中原大學)

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When foreign streaming services started arriving in Taiwan, a battle started over access to local content, which could be added to their extensive libraries of movies and television shows. With Netflix and Disney+ being the most popular choices for most consumers in Taiwan, both companies sought to add as much Taiwan-made content as they could, while also investing in producing new content as well.

Suffice to say, this resulted in a considerable amount of freshly-made content, which was afforded the financial backing and support of these massive media companies, and more importantly, higher quality production values, which has been a recipe for success. Television shows like Light the Night (華燈初上), Seqalu (斯卡羅) and Detention (返校) are just a few examples of the recent success that the addition of streaming services have helped bring to Taiwan, allowing the country to tell its own stories on an international level.

Link: 別再說韓劇比較好看！10大必看神作開啟台劇新高度，道盡職場辛酸血淚 (風博媒)

One of the other recent additions was the series Gold Leaf (茶金), lauded as the first-ever television show that was filmed entirely in Hoiluk (海陸腔), the most commonly spoken dialect of the Hakka language spoken in Taiwan. A co-production from the Taiwanese government’s Hakka Affairs Council (客家委員會) and the Public Television Service Foundation (公共電視), the twelve-part series focused on the family of entrepreneur Chiang A-hsin (姜阿新), who hailed from the predominately Hakka village of Beipu (北浦鎮) in Hsinchu.

Link: Hakka period drama ‘Gold Leaf’ to air in November (Hakka Affairs Council)

Telling the story of the family’s struggle to stay in business as the Japanese left Taiwan and the Chinese Nationalists took over, the series (is said to have) done an excellent job helping people learn about the booming tea trade during the 1950s, and it’s popularity got domestic tourists to visit places like Beipu Old Street (北浦老街) and the Daxi Tea Factory (大溪老茶產) to experience that history firsthand.

I have to admit though, I haven’t actually watched it..

The family of tea tycoons depicted in the television show, however, is very closely connected to the subject of today’s article, which will tell the story of an abandoned tea factory in the hills of Hsinchu. Having visited the abandoned factory on a few occasions prior to the television show coming out, I had never really made the connection between the two until I started doing a bit of research into the old building.

My personal interest in the tea factory came after my first of many visits to the recently restored Daxi Tea Factory. As I was looking for information about other Japanese-era tea factories around the country, once I found it, I visited a couple of times to get photos.

This however is where I have to add my usual disclaimer regarding my articles on Urban Exploration - In this article, I’ll provide historic information about the tea factory - I’ll even provide it’s name - What I won’t do though is provide readers with any of the other particulars, so if you find yourself so interested that you’d like to check it out on your for yourself, it shouldn’t take very long to figure out where it is.

Before I get into any details about the abandoned tea factory, it’s probably a good idea to start out by introducing talk about the man (and the family), of tea tycoons who owned it - and several others throughout the mountains of Hsinchu - and for whom the television show mentioned above is dedicated.

Chiang A-hsin (姜阿新)

The life of Chiang A-hsin was a long and eventful one, and given that there has been quite a bit recorded about the rise and fall of his family’s tea empire over the years, I’ll try to keep this a brief introduction.

Born in 1901 (明治34年), in what is now Baoshan Village (寶山鄉) in Hsinchu, Chiang A-hsin was adopted as a child by Chiang Qing-han (姜清漢), who was heir to the Beipu Chiang family, and who was described as ‘barren’ or unable to have children of his own.

Little seems to be written on the subject in English, but in Taiwan, it was common (for a variety of reasons) for well-off families to adopt children from families who would otherwise have trouble raising the child on their own. In this case, it was because the Chiang family required a male heir to carry on the family name, but in other cases it could be that the family required a daughter to marry to one of their sons, or for purposes of indentured servitude, etc.

Nevertheless, Chiang A-hsin was adopted and groomed to become the heir of the wealthy Beipu family, who struck it rich during the Qing Dynasty with their Jinguangfu Land Reclamation Company (金廣福墾號). Starting his education at the Beipu Public School (北浦公校), he then moved on to the prestigious Taihoku Kokugo Gakko (臺灣總督府國語學校 / たいわんそうとくふこくごがっこう) at the age of fourteen.

Shortly after his graduation from the college, he traveled to the Japanese mainland, and spent a year reading law at Meiji University (京明治大學) in Tokyo. However, do to pressing family matters back at home, he didn’t end up finishing his degree and instead returned to Taiwan to help out.

Over the next several years, Chiang attempted to invest in or start his own business on several occasions, but each attempt was met with opposition from his father. Chiang then took a job as the assistant to Tanaka Tori (田中利), the head of Hopposhō Village (北埔庄 / ほっぽしょう), known today as Beipu Village. He’d only end up spending two years in the position however as the opposition of his father turned into approval when A-hsin became the head of the family, and proved to his father that he was capable of investing the families wealth responsibly.

Even though his position as assistant to the head of the village might have been short-lived, Chiang used his time in office to familiarize himself with the growing tea manufacturing industry in the village, which was praised for the high-end product that it was producing. Using what he learned and the important networking opportunities that he had, Chiang threw his own hand into the industry by organizing the Beipu Tea Collective (北埔茶葉組合), which grew exponentially over the next few years - starting with the Beipu Tea Farm (北埔茶場) in 1934 (昭和9年), Emei Tea Factory (峨眉茶廠) in 1935 (昭和10年) and then the Hengshan Tea Factory (橫山茶廠), Wufeng Tea Factory (五峰茶廠), and finally the Daping Tea Factory in 1936 (昭和11年).

To give you of an idea of the high-quality nature of the tea that was being produced by Chaing’s Beipu Tea Collective, the tea being produced in the mountains of Hsinchu at the time was sold at a price ten times to typical market price for Oolong Tea at the time. Given the high quality of the tea and the reputation that came with it, Chiang formed partnerships with the Mitsui Agriculture and Forestry Association (三井農林會社), which brought the benefit of having the most modern tea-producing technology available at the time.

However, during the Second World War, the Governor General’s Office in Taipei moved quickly to control certain areas of the economy, especially those with regard to the supply of commodities. The production of tea was an important one for both domestic and international consumption, so the government took control in order to better siphon off the profits, which could be distributed for the war effort.

By 1941 (昭和16年), the “Beipu Tea Collective” was restructured into the Chikuto Tea Company (竹東製茶株式會社). Yet, thanks to his experience in the industry, and his notoriety, Chiang was able to continue as president, maintaining his position and influence within the industry.

After the war, the Chikuto tea Company was dissolved and the ownership of the tea factories was returned to their original owners. By that time, the reputation of Beipu’s tea was pretty solid, specializing in what is known in Hakka as “phong-fûng chhà” (椪風茶) or Oriental Beauty Tea (東方美人茶). In the Hakka language, the name of the tea was essentially “Braggers Tea”, which was used because the producers were ‘so proud of their product that they bragged to everyone’ about how much money they were making from selling it.

Link: Dongfang meiren 東方美人茶 (Wiki)

Shortly after the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan, Chiang renamed the company Yung Kuang Tea Company (永光股份有限公司) and started exporting tea under the Three Star (三星) and Ho-ppo Tea (北埔茶) brands. The success of the global export industry apparently surpassed even that of India’s Darjeeling Tea for a short time, putting Taiwanese tea on the world stage and attracting guests from all over the world to visit Taiwan. With all the foreign tea trading companies visiting Beipu, Chiang decided to build his famous mansion in Beipu where his family lived and received guests.

However, things changed in the 1950s when other tea producing areas around the world, affected by the war resumed production. With its competitive advantage lost, Taiwan’s tea production started to suffer and the relationship between Chiang and his foreign partners suffered.

At wits end, Chiang eventually retired and the company was taken over by his daughter, who attempted to make changes to save the business. Ultimately, the international market, Taiwan’s political situation and the amount of loans proved too difficult to overcome and they were forced to file for bankruptcy in 1965 (民國54年). I don’t want to give you too many spoilers, so if you have the time to watch ‘Gold Leaf’ on Netflix, you’ll be able to see the struggles the family had to go through.

Chiang later moved to Taipei with his family and lived there until his death in 1982. Today, his historic mansion has been restored, and is open in Beipu for tours.

Daping Tea Factory (大平製茶厰)

The Daping Tea Factory (大平製茶厰) opened in June of 1934 (昭和9年) under the official name “Dapingwo Tea Cooperative Factory” (太平窩茶葉組合製茶工場), and was one of the first tea factories in the area that was able to make use of modern technology in the production process.

While the tea factory was officially part of Chiang A-hsin’s ‘Beipu Tea Collective’ mentioned above, throughout its history, it has been managed by a number of different groups of local tea farmers, more specifically after the war, the Hsinpu Liu family (劉氏), one the prominent clans of Hakka residents of the area.

Link: Hsinpu Ancestral Shrines (新埔宗祠)

The history of the factory is one that is reminiscent of many of Taiwan’s agricultural industries in that they had to find a way to deal with the transition of political control from the Japanese to the Chinese Nationalists. For the locals, the ability to successfully stay afloat in business during either era was a delicate (and dangerous) balancing act that required a considerable amount of political knowhow. The Beipu Tea Collective under the leadership of Chiang A-hsin, though, was one of the fortunate pieces of Taiwan’s agricultural industry that was able to successfully navigate the transition.

However, as I’ve already pointed out, Taiwan experienced somewhat of a ‘golden era’ of tea production after the war with the support of the Chinese Nationalist regime. When that golden era came to an end, not even endless government subsidies were even able to keep successful businessmen like Chiang A-hsin afloat, and many of the tea factories across the island started to shut down.

Tea baskets that have seen better days.

Despite the decline in the fortune of the Chiang family, the Daping Tea Factory was able to outlive many of the other tea plantations across the country, and with the cooperation of the government, the owners cultivated several varieties of tea. Transitioning away from Oriental Beauty (東方美人 / 青心大冇) to other types of of tea leaves, they produced popular varieties such as Black Tea (紅茶), Baozhong (包種茶) and Dong-ding (凍頂茶), which continue to be the most common varieties of tea that are cultivated in Taiwan today.

Interestingly, in the post-war period, the cultivation of tea in Taiwan expanded upon some of the experimentation that took place during the Japanese-era, and the result was a number of hybrid species that combined indigenous teas with those more common in India, and other major tea producing countries around the world. The cultivation of these new ‘Taiwan teas’ was streamlined throughout the 1950s and 1960s, and the teas being produced received official classifications based on the experimental process that was used to create them.

Instead of having a bunch of confusing names, the government promoted teas with a number - for example “Taiwan #1” (台茶1號) through “Taiwan #13” (台茶13號), a classification system that remains in place today - and was a beneficial exercise in marketing Taiwanese produced teas to the international market.

In the 1950s, there were over three-hundred tea factories spread throughout Taiwan, a third of them located in Hsinchu. Working together with the other fifteen factories in Hsinpu Village (新埔鎮), the tea produced in the area maintained a high reputation for quite some time, and the success of the export market helped to stabilize a tea industry that was showing signs of decline.

Nevertheless, the decline, which was brought on by international market trends dealt a decisive blow to Taiwan’s tea industry, and even though earnest attempts were made to revive the struggling industry, by 1988 (民國77年), only nine of the original fifteen factories in Hsinpu remained in operation. Less than a decade later, only two of them remained.

By 2013 (民國102年), almost all of the tea factories in the area had been abandoned, with the few remaining converted into tea wholesale businesses.

Unfortunately, information regarding the closure of Daping Tea Factory’s business operations is difficult to find, so I can’t give you an actual date as to when it went out of business, but it’s safe to say that it fell victim to the number of closures that took place between the late 1980s and 1990s.

It’s also difficult to say when the place was abandoned, but given that there was a residence and/or a dormitory within the building, it might have been occupied for a period of time after going out of business.

Recently, the arched wooden roof of one of the buildings collapsed, and out of concern for the local community, the owners of the properly planned to have the building torn down, but the Hsinchu County Bureau of Cultural Affairs (新竹縣政府文化局) stepped in and sought to have the building ‘protected’ for future use, although it is currently unclear as to what that will entail.

One would hope, given the popularity of the television series, as well as the Daxi Tea Factory as a tourist destination, that it’s likely that it might receive some attention sooner rather than later. But that’s up in the air at this point.

Link: 百年大平製茶廠 竹縣爭納古蹟 (自由時報)

Now, let me take a few minutes to detail the architectural design of the building, which even though is in pretty rough shape at the moment, remains quite interesting.

Visiting the factory today, its rather obvious that the original tea factory, constructed during the Japanese-era, was expanded upon several times over the post-war era to meet the needs of a modernizing industry. When we view the factory today, it is essentially split into three different sections - each of which varies with regard to its architectural design and construction methods.

It probably goes without saying that, as far as I’m concerned, the section that remains from the Japanese-era is the most interesting - but taking into consideration that it was constructed primarily constructed of wood in the 1930s, it’s also the part of the factory that is currently in the worst condition.

The original section of the tea factory was actually quite similar to what you can still see at the Daxi Tea Factory in Taoyuan in that it was a two-story brick building, which featured load-bearing walls. In both cases, the top floor was used as a drying area, while the first floor was where the tea was processed.

The roof that covered the drying area was a typical hip-and-gable roof (歇山頂) which was covered with red roof tiles (閩式紅瓦), a type of clay tile which are ubiquitous with traditional Hokkien (閩南) and Hakka (客家) buildings in Taiwan. While the decorative elements of the roof are subdued compared to most other historic buildings in Taiwan, the roof’s fusion of Japanese-style architectural design with that of Hakka elements is an interesting one, but not entirely unique, as you’ll see in the link below.

Link: Zhongli Elementary Teachers Dorms (壢小故事森林)

Starting with the shape of the roof, ‘hip-and-gable’ in this case is better referred to as irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) as it is one of the most common forms of traditional Japanese architectural design, and is used on anything from Buddhist temples and Shinto Shrines to buildings like this one. Roofs in this style tend to vary in the level of decorative elements added, and in this case the decorations are quite subdued.

Nevertheless, this style of architectural design tends to be quite practical given that the ‘hipped’ section provided excellent stability to the base of the building, while the ‘gable’ section ensures the stability of the roof. All of this was accomplished through a genius network of trusses (屋架) located within the ceiling that assists in distributing the weight and support the four-sided sloped hip roof (四坡頂).

If you explore the tea factory today, you can see the original wood used to help stabilize the roof in the section left standing and contrast it with the section that has already caved-in. In the latter, the trusses remain in pretty good shape despite having caved in and being open to the elements for a number of years, which likely points to the fact that they weren’t the cause of the cave in.

As mentioned above, the roof tiles feature as part of the roof’s decorative design, but the fusion of Japanese-style architecture with Taiwanese red roof tiles here tends to play a more functional role than a decorative one. Along the arched section of the roof, you’ll find what appear to be lines of cylindrical roof tiles separated by flat sections of tile that make it seem like ocean waves. The functional nature of the roof tiles placed in this way assist in controlling the flow of rain water.

With the building constructed during the Showa-era, construction techniques in Taiwan had become considerably more refined, so even though the weight of the roof was stabilized by the trusses within the building, the load-bearing brick walls allowed for a number of windows to be placed on all sides of the building to assist in the process of drying the tea leaves. Surrounding the remaining second-floor section of the second floor on three sides, the windows allow for a considerable amount of natural light and in the summer sun, the room tends to shine, making it the most interesting section of the building, photographically.

Diagram of the three sections of the tea factory based on when they were constructed.

Located to the rear of the original section of the building you’ll find a post-war addition to the original tea factory. This section, similar to the building in front is a two-story structure, but it also includes a basement where you can still find a considerable amount of the original machinery that was used in the process of tea production. Having all of this historic machinery just sitting there open to the elements is actually quite sad as it is just wasting away in its current condition. The basement of the building tends to be quite damp and muddy, so it’s hard to say that much of anything inside would be of any use other than for display purposes.

Finally, the most recent addition to the tea factory is simply a three-story reinforced concrete building that is typical of post-war design. The building features very little in terms of decorative elements and was never painted.

Essentially it looks like almost every Taiwanese house that was constructed over the past forty or fifty years. Within the interior of the building however you’ll find what was probably the factory’s administrative section as well as an area reserved as the dormitory for the factory’s employees, who were likely migrant laborers.

What is probably the best part of this section of the factory is that you can easily access the roof to get a better view of the caved-in section of the original tea factory, but if you do explore the building, you’ll want to be careful walking around as it could be somewhat dangerous as well.   

As mentioned earlier, this article is currently classified as one of my ‘urban exploration’ articles, which means that I won’t be sharing much about the location of the building, or how to gain entry to the building.

I do hope that at some point that I’ll be able to offer readers an update if and when the building is restored and re-opened to the public as a tourist attraction - So here’s to hoping that the popularity of “Gold Leaf” will rub off on local officials in Hsinchu looking to cash in on the renewed interest in Taiwan’s golden age of tea, something which this (and many other) tea factories played a role in.

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