Photo Post

Abandoned Tea Factory

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.


Tamsui Police Commissioners Residence (淡水日本警官宿舍)

I’ve you’ve lived in Taiwan long enough, you may have noticed that the Taipei MRT has changed the romanized name it uses for Tamsui Station (淡水捷運站) on a couple of occasions. Whenever these things happen, it usually follows with heated public debate and questions as to why they’re once again wasting money on these unnecessary changes. Suffice to say, whatever ‘official’ reason is given for the change, most people know that they’re actually politically motivated.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember during the most recent incident, one of the reasons given for the change to ‘Danshui’ was that International tourists couldn’t pronounce ‘Tamsui’, so they had to change it to something more recognizable. ‘Danshui’ which is the Mandarin pronunciation romanized into Hanyu Pinyin (漢語拼音) was thought to be more foreign-friendly than the original name of the area, ‘Tamsui’, which is the Taiwanese-Hokkien pronunciation. Nevertheless, the change didn’t last very long as it was quickly changed back.   

Given that the area has been referred to as ‘Tamsui’ for hundreds of years, it comes across as a bit odd that there are all of these contemporary naming issues, but Taiwan can be a pretty complicated place at times, and it’s well-known that the Chinese Nationalists were never really big fans of the local language. The irony however, is that during the Japanese-era, the original name remained exactly the same. During that half-century period, ‘Tamsui’ (淡水) simply became known as Tansui (淡水郡 / たんすゐぐん), the Japanese pronunciation of the original name.

Geographically, the Tamsui District (淡水區) of today is considerably smaller than the Tamsui District (淡水郡) of the Japanese era, in that the latter consisted of districts that currently make up New Taipei City’s Shimen District (石門區), Sanzhi District (三芝區) and Bali District (八里區) - known during the Japanese era as Sekimon-sho (石門庄 / せきもんょう), Sanshiba-sho (三芝庄 / さんしょう) and Hachiri-sho (八里庄 / はちりしょう) respectively. The district also included the main town of Tansui (淡水街 / たんすいまち), where a considerable amount of commerce and international trade was taking place.

The area ended up being so vital to the Japanese colonial government that they quickly got to work on the construction of the twenty kilometer-long Tamsui Branch Line (淡水線 / たんすい) that followed the east bank of the Danshui River from the capital. The railway was a game changer for the district, which originally acted as a port of trade with China, in turn sending products down the river into Dadaocheng (大稻埕) or Bangkha (艋舺). The completion of the railway in 1901 allowed for a more efficient process of getting things to the capital, making the port town an important one for the colonial government with regard to transporting things from the Japanese mainland to Taiwan, easing some of the congestion from the other northern port in Keelung (基隆). More importantly however, the branch railway kept the people of the area connected with the capital in a way that ensure that it would always remain an important part of Taipei.

Note: The Tamsui Line consisted of the following stations: Daitotei (大稻埕), Hokumon (北門), Taihoku (台北), Taishogai (大正街), Soren (雙連), Maruyama (圓山), Miyanoshita (宮ノ下), Shirin (士林), Kirigan (石牌), Hokuto (北投), Kanto (關渡), Chikui (竹圍) and Tansui (淡水). For those unaware, these historic stations, which were in service from 1901 (or added in 1915) and make up much of what is today the Red Line (紅線) of the Taipei MRT, which replaced the original railway.

The ability to maintain it’s economic prosperity meant a lot for the people of the area, which is something that continues to be celebrated today with both domestic and international tourists making their way from the city to enjoy the Tamsui Old Street, it’s beautiful riverside, and a large number of historic buildings and tourist destinations. The prosperity enjoyed by the people of Tamsui during the colonial era is clearly visible along the old street today, where the architectural design of the buildings is indicative of what we’ve come to expect from any of the historic “Old Streets” (老街) that have been converted into tourist destinations.

Covering an area of 227km², and with a population of nearly 60,000, Tamsui was one of the many districts under the governance of Taihoku Prefecture (台北州 / たいほくしゅう). In 1920 (大正9年) however, the colonial government refined and redistricted Taiwan’s geographic and administrative system. This was when  ‘Tansui District’ (淡水郡), or county depending on your translation, was brought to life. The changes in administrative control required the construction of a new town hall, namely the Tamsui Town Office (淡水郡役所 / たんすゐぐんやくしょ) in addition to a number of new civic buildings in the port town including the post office, telecommunications office, etc. Likewise, even though there was already a police presence in the area, the redistricting now meant that police service in the area would be carried out by the local Tamsui Police Branch (淡水郡警察課) of the Taihoku Prefectural Police Service (台北州警務部).

All of this new local governance brought with it a number of important positions that had to be filled, similarly requiring a number of new official residences. While there were already a number of official residences in the area made available for teachers, police and other civil servants, the redistricting required the construction of housing for the mayor and the police chief, among others. Unfortunately, unlike a lot of other areas around the country, many of these official residences in Tamsui have already been torn down to make way for modern construction projects, making the few that remain quite important. Today, I’ll be introducing one of them, namely the former residence of the Tamsui Police Chief.

Recently restored and re-opened to the public as a tourist destination, the house is one of the few remaining wooden residences in Tamsui today, and given its proximity to the old street, it makes for an interesting stop if you find yourself in the area for the day.

As always, I’ll start by explaining the history of the residence, followed by its architectural design, and then end by offering directions on how to get there.

Tamsui Police Chief’s Residence (淡水日本警官宿舍)

Coinciding with the establishment of Tamsui District in the 1921 redistribution of Taiwan’s administrative regions, a number of buildings were constructed within the port town to facilitate the administrative upgrade the town was receiving. One of those buildings was the official residence provided to the district’s Police Chief.

Constructed a short distance from the Town Office mentioned above, the modest residence was built on the side of a hill that overlooked the bustling commercial area of Tamsui and the river, with a nice view of Guanyin Mountain in the distance. In terms of it’s size, the Japanese-Western fusion style residence was modest to say the least, especially in comparison to some of its contemporaries.

Unfortunately for all of the Police Chiefs who served in Tamsui over the next two and a half decades of the colonial era, and then into the post-war era, the building was constructed a year prior to the Governor General’s Office enacting a law (台灣總督府官舍建築標準) regarding official building standards in Taiwan - Those new standards specified a clear set of regulations regarding the size of buildings provided for civil servants of various ranks, divided between Senior Officials (高等官 / こうとうかん) and Junior Officials (判任官 / はんにんかん). Meant to improve the living standards in the housing provided for civil servants as well as to encourage staff to work hard and earn a promotion in order to receive more comfortable housing for their families.

Granted, the Police Chief of Tamsui District wouldn’t have been on the same level of the bureaucratic hierarchy as the Police Commissioner of Hsinchu, but if you compare the two residences, you’ll notice a considerable difference in their size.

Link: Shinchiku Police Commissioner's Residence (新竹州警務部部長官舍)

According to my research for the article linked above, under the new housing system, the Police Commissioner’s Official Residence was classified as a Level Two Senior Official (高等官官舍第二種) house, meaning that the building should be at least 165㎡ (50坪) in size accompanied, by a plot of land that was at least 1003㎡ (303.5坪). The Tamsui District Police Chief (淡水郡警察課長), however would have been considered a Level Four Senior Official (高等官官舍第四種) and thus would have been afforded a residence up to 109㎡ (33坪) in size, with a plot of land up to 440㎡ (132坪). Constructed a year prior to the new regulations, the residence is 73㎡ (22坪) in size and the total size of the land is 241㎡ (73坪), considerably smaller than it would have been if it were constructed a year later.

If you’re wondering why I’ve gone off on this size tangent, the answer comes in a few different forms - The first being that it would have been one of the reasons that the position as the Police Chief of Tamsui district would have been considered a stepping-stone to something bigger and better. This will become more obvious in the list of residents I’m providing below. The second reason is that in the post-war era, the residence continued to be occupied by the local police chief, but when the housing crisis in Taiwan (brought on by the influx of several million Chinese refugees) stabilized, officials elected to find their own housing.

Below you’ll find a list of the residents of the building during the Japanese era, or at least from 1921-1945. You’ll notice there was quite a turn around for these Police Chiefs, but it’s not that the job was terrible, as mentioned above, it was essentially a position that would have propelled people to bigger and better things. In each case though, whether it was for a few years, or a few months, the residence was made available to the chief and his family.

Japanese-era Residents (淡水郡警察課長)

  1. 1921 (大正10年) 竹內健藏

  2. 1924 (大正13年) 高橋秀二

  3. 1924 (大正13年) 手貝千代志

  4. 1925 (大正14年) 倉持泰

  5. 1926 (昭和元年) 高橋政吉

  6. 1927 (昭和2年) 小泉清

  7. 1928 (昭和3年) 蘆田俊

  8. 1931 (昭和6年) 酒井林藏

  9. 1936 (昭和11年) 金丸繁治

  10. 1938 (昭和13年) 清水增吉

  11. 1939 (昭和14年) 久保田豐太郎

  12. 1941 (昭和16年) 神代文治

When Japan surrendered at the end of the Second World War, the shame of defeat was too much for some of it citizens, especially for some of the police who had also served as members of the military. In what is possibly the first case I’ve come across where something like this happened, the humiliation of defeat was so unbearable that two of the residents of the house hung themselves inside, which would cause some complications during the post-war era.

From what I found during my research, the residence continued to serve as the official residence for the Police Chief of Tamsui in the post-war era - The thing is though, that no one lived in the building until a few years after the arrival of the Chinese Nationalists. Given the housing crisis that took place in the early years of the Nationalists retreat to Taiwan, it’s a bit strange. The reason for this, I’m assuming was based on a couple of different reasons - The first is that the house was constructed on the site of a Qing-era graveyard. The second is that the two Japanese who hung themselves in the building would have made it a ‘haunted house’ (凶宅) according to Chinese cultural standards.

It wasn’t until 1951 (民國40年) that the house started being occupied again. Similar to what happened during the Japanese era, the men who served as Police Chief in Tamsui only ever lasted for a few years, with the house being occupied by a number of police chiefs, including Sun Zhao (孫肇), He Qi (何琦), Chang Yifei (張一飛), Chang Jianxun (張建勳) and Jin Fuhai (金福海). Going back to a point I made earlier though, as the housing situation stabilized in Taiwan, few actually wanted to continue living in the residence provided to them.

Thus, the last official residents of the building were the Deputy Police Chief (淡水警分局副分局長), Jin Fuhai and his wife Lin Meimei (林美美) who moved into the residence in 1968 (民國57年). Living in the house long after the death of her husband, Lin Meimei enjoyed the comfort of the historic building for well over four decades until she moved out in 2007 (民國96年). Ms. Lin could have lived out the rest of her life in the house, but even though she absolutely loved all the time she spent there, she also recognized that if she continued living there, the nearly one-hundred year old historic property would eventually be lost completely, like so many of Taiwan’s other historic buildings. Vacating the residence in 2007, the building was quickly registered as a protected New Taipei City Historic Property (新北市歷史建築) that same year, with plans to have it restored.

Sitting abandoned for over half a decade, Ms. Lin was unimpressed with the long bureaucratic process that slowed down the restoration of the building and it’s reported that she pressed authorities on several occasions throughout the years to start the restoration work before it was too late. Still, it took until 2013 for the government to send researchers to the building to start the process of documenting the building and coming up with a plan for its restoration. The restoration proposal was completed in 2015 and the government opened up a tender for companies to bid on the project. Finally, twelve years after Ms. Lin moved out, the historic residence was reopened to the public in December of 2019 under the operational control of the Tamsui Historical Museum (淡水古蹟博物館), which curates a number of exhibits within the many historic buildings in the area.

Although it may seem like I was criticising the size of the building earlier, it is actually one of the buildings strongest aspects at the moment as they haven’t been able to fill it with a bunch of pointless exhibition pieces; It’s possible that this could change in the future, but during my visit, I highly enjoyed that the few things put on display within the building focused solely on its history and architectural design. They didn’t add a bunch of needless display pieces to take up space, they just left the building open, which allows visitors to enjoy the space a lot more than a lot of the other buildings that have been restored in recent years.

Now that I’ve gone over a bit of the history of the building, I’m going to spend some time explaining its architectural design.

Architectural Design

I had a bit of a good time with some of the ‘official’ descriptions of the residence’s architectural design, especially those coming from the government - Described as a fusion-style of architectural design, some of the information available about the building from the tourism bureau will claim that it is a fusion of Japanese, Western and Taiwanese design. While that is partly true, the building was originally designed as a Japanese-Western fusion (和洋並置), with what I suppose you could refer to as ‘Taiwanese’ elements added to the building in the post-war era.

The problem with describing these additions as ‘Taiwanese’ elements however doesn’t give much credit to Taiwanese architectural design. The residence was expanded during the stay of Police Chief Sun Zhao (孫肇), who lived there for seven years from 1951-1958. The expansion which merely added a reinforced concrete section to the back of the house provided a bit more space, but wasn’t inherently ‘Taiwanese’ in design, so I’d go as far as to say that anyone who makes these claims is doing a disservice to traditional Taiwanese design.

For you naysayers, I assure you, there is far more to Taiwanese architectural design than the pouring of concrete.

Not sure what happened here. It’s probably where the restoration team removed some of the additions.

As mentioned above, the residence is a total of 73㎡ (22坪), making it quite small in terms of Japanese-era houses. Nevertheless, the layout of the building adheres to traditional Japanese architectural design with the interior space divided into three separate spaces, a living space (起居空間), a service space (服務空間) and a passage space (通行空間). To explain, the “living space” is essentially a multi-functional space where the residents spend time together having meals, drinking tea and sleeping. The “service space” on the other hand includes a number of functional spaces including the kitchen, bathroom, washroom, etc. Finally, the “passage space” generally refers to the various entrances, and the corridors within. One of the important things to keep in mind with regard to traditional Japanese-style residences like this is that the fusion of all three of these spaces skillfully separates the ‘public’ parts of the home from the ‘private’ through the usage of walls, sliding doors and corridors that reach around the building.

As I’ve done in the past, I’ll make use of the floor plan to briefly introduce each of the various spaces within the residence to better explain their function. To make things easier to understand, I’ve numbered each of the space on the plan above so that you know which part of the house I’m referring to:

Passage Space (通行空間)

(1) The front entrance, or the ‘foyer’ to the residence is known in Japan as a ‘genkan’ (玄關 / げんかん), and features compartments for shoes, umbrellas, etc. The foyer is located on ground-level as opposed to the rest of the building, which is elevated. Once you enter the building you’ll find a set of stairs that brings you up to the core parts of the building. As part of the separation of the public and private parts of the home, the foyer has two doors, one directly ahead that leads to the private space and another on the left that leads to the reception room.

(2) Regarded as a ‘transitionary’ space, the ‘toritsugi’ (取次 / とりつぎ), or the second foyer was directly in front of the main entrance to the residence. Once you walked up the stairs to the main area, you’d find a small space with another set of sliding doors that opened up to the tea room. This space is somewhat ceremonial, but also functional in that it offers another storage space for coats, while the space below was reserved for shoes and umbrellas.

(3) What I’d consider the best part of living in this house, and the part of every traditional Japanese home that I appreciate the most is what is know as the ‘engawa’ (緣側/えんがわ). This is essentially a wide corridor on the side of the building that overlooks the river and features sliding glass doors that open up to the yard in addition to sliding panels that open up to the living space, with another door connecting to the guest space. The sliding glass doors would have allowed for a significant amount of natural air to breeze through the residence, offering a natural air conditioner of sorts, but the best part of this space is that the residents could spend hours sitting on the covered veranda watching the hustle and bustle of the street below as well as the boats passing by in the river.

Finally, within the building you’ll find a number of corridors that connect each of the spaces with each other. I haven’t listed each of them on the photo above, but the ‘rou’ (廊 / ろう) are essential in these buildings as they play an integral part in separating each of the spaces. Most of them are located on the northern and southern sections of the building, with the middle section reserved as the living space.

Living Space (起居空間)

(5-6) Within the private area, you’ll find the most spacious area of the home, which is typically separated into two sections known as the ‘zashiki’ (座敷 / ざしき) and the ‘ima’ (居間 / いま), which together act as what we’d consider a ‘living room’ and a ‘bedroom’ however, they’re a bit more complex than that. Within the ‘ima’ section, which acts as the sleeping space, you’ll find alcoves known as ‘oshiire’ (押入 / おしいれ), which are used for storing bedding during the day.

Likewise, within the ‘zashiki’ you’d find similar alcoves known as tokonoma (床の間/とこのま) and chigaidana (違棚 / ちがいだな), which are both spaces reserved for decorative elements of the living space. In these traditional homes, sleeping spaces were communal, and the living space was used by the family as a space to hang out, or entertain close friends.

The important thing to remember is that during the day all of the clutter would have been stored away, making these two spaces quite open and enjoyable. One of the things to take note of when you’re in the living space are the sliding wooden panels that can be closed to separate the two spaces. These panels are said to be originals and feature some beautiful calligraphy-style paintings on either side.

(7) Separated from the foyer and the waiting room by a sliding door, you’d find what was known as the tea room (茶之間 / ちゃのま), which essentially served as the dining room as it was connected directly to the kitchen. In smaller residences like these, the tea room also acted as a reading room (書齋 / しょさい) when the larger reception space wasn’t being used.

(8) One of the spaces that was extended over the years, the ‘ousetsushitsu’ (應接室 / おうせつしつ) could go by a number of names in English; Essentially it was a meeting room, or a space where residents could receive guests. Over the years, the various Police Chiefs likely received guests during their off-hours to discuss work-related issues. Separated from the private area of the living space, it was connected to the rest of the house by the ‘foyer’ and the ‘veranda’ making it easily accessible whenever anyone visited. This is one of the ‘fusion’ areas of the house though as it was also considered a ‘western style’ living room with sofas and later a television, etc. Located in the southern corner of the house, the room would have had a nice view of the river and the afternoon sun.

Service Space (服務空間)

Finally, the ‘service space’ is admittedly the most difficult space of the building to explain, as most of it is not open to the public. These space were restored along with the rest of the building, but are currently occupied as spaces by the administration of the building as storage space. Nevertheless, for clarity sake, the service space included the (9) lavatory (便所 / べんじょ), the (10) kitchen (台所 / だいどころ) and the (11) bathroom (風呂 / ふろ). Truth be told though, tourists aren’t probably all that interested in checking out a one-hundred year old bathroom, right?

Now that I’ve explained the interior, let’s take a few minutes to talk about the exterior of the building. Constructed in the irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造) style of design, which basically means that the base of the building is smaller than the roof, the weight of which is supported by a network of trusses (屋架) in the ceiling that helps to support the weight of the four-sided sloped hip roof (四坡頂). However, when you look at the roof from above today, it is clear that the shape of the original roof has been altered considerably. Likewise, the the original roof tiles were replaced with plastic-looking tiles and the onigawara (鬼瓦) end tiles have all been replaced. Also, the wooden shitamiita (下見版 / したみいた) siding on the buildings has been replaced. They are currently quite dark in color, but as they age the colors will fade.

Although the additions to the building over the past century have increased its size, they have also altered the original shape. The space in front of the veranda is quite narrow as it overlooks the hill, while the space on the ends of the building on the kitchen side as well as the meeting room side have reduced the size of the space in the yard. These additions however haven’t really been reflected well in the restoration of the building, which offers a pretty good view of what the building would have originally looked like, with the additions making up the administrative sections of the building.

Getting There

 

Address: #5, Alley #12, Zhongzheng Road, Danshui (新北市淡水區中正路12巷5號)

GPS: 25.170740, 121.439940

Located within the heart of Tamsui’s Historic Old Street (淡水老街), the former Police Chief’s dorm sits on prime real estate just to the rear of what would have been one of the most important places of worship in town. A short walk up a set of stairs to the rear of Fuyou Temple (淡水福佑宮), otherwise known as the Tamsui Mazu Temple (淡水媽祖廟), the former residence is within walking distance of both the Tamsui MRT Station (淡水捷運站) as well as the Tamsui Ferryboat Wharf (淡水渡船碼頭), making getting there rather easy.

Taking into consideration that the Tamsui Old Street is quite narrow, your best option for getting to any of the tourist destinations in the area is to simply walk. The stretch of Zhongzheng Road (中正路) where the temple is located is quite narrow, making it difficult for buses to get in and out, but makes it great for pedestrian traffic with wide sidewalks.

From the Tamsui MRT Station, the walk to Fuyou Temple is about 550 meters, an estimated six minute trip according to Google Maps. To get there simply walk out of the MRT station and walk straight until you find yourself on Zhongzheng Road. Once you find yourself on the Old Street, simply walk straight until you reach Fuyou Temple. On either side of the temple you’ll notice a set of stone stairs that leads you up behind the historic temple to the residence, in addition to a neighborhood that overlooks the harbor and is close to a number of other historic tourist destinations.

While you’re in the area, in addition to the historic old street and the riverfront, you may want to also consider visiting the Tamsui Longshan Temple (淡水龍山寺), Tamsui Qingshui Temple (淡水清水巖), the Tamsui Customs Officers’ Residence (小白宮), the Tamsui Presbyterian Church (長老教會淡水教會) and the Huwei MacKay Hospital (滬尾偕醫館), all of which are within walking distance of the old street. Similarly, you may also want to visit Fort San Domingo (淡水紅毛城), the Tamsui Martyrs Shrine (新北市忠烈祠) or the Tamsui Fisherman’s Wharf (淡水漁人碼頭), which are both a little further away.

Recently restored and reopened to the public, the Japanese-era Police Chief’s residence is probably one of the lesser known of Tamsui’s tourist attractions, but that also makes it one of the most relaxing places to visit. There isn’t a whole lot to see when you visit the house, but the building has a great view of the harbor and you may want to sit on the veranda to take a break from your travels prior to moving on to your next destination. If you find yourself visiting on a hot day, the respite from the sun should be a welcome-enough experience for a weary traveler, especially with the peace and quiet offered by the house.

References

  1. 淡水日本警官宿舍 (Wiki)

  2. 淡水郡 | 淡水街 | 台北州 | 淡水線 (Wiki)

  3. 淡水日本警官宿舍 (淡水維基館)

  4. 淡水日本警官宿舍 (國家文化資產網)

  5. 新北市歷史建築淡水日本警官宿舍修復或再利用計畫 (新北市政府文化局)

  6. 終於修復完工!淡水「日本警官宿舍」開放參觀,重現日治時期「和洋折衷式」建築風貌 (Shopping Design)

  7. 淡水重建街添一好拍景點 超美日本高階警官宿舍今開放 (新北市政府警察局板橋分局)

  8. 日本警官宿舍 見證日本警察統治的漢人社會 (國家文化記憶庫)

  9. 淡水老街又ㄧ重要歷史建築將獲保存 前縣議員林美美老宿舍可望指定為歷史建築 (許慧明 / 淡水文化基金會)


Taipei Guest House (臺北賓館)

When it comes to my personal time, it’s rare that I ever find myself with nothing to do. Over the years I’ve curated a long list of places to go, things to do, and restaurants and coffee shops to check out. So, no matter where I find myself in Taiwan, I’m never far from somewhere I want to visit.

Something I’ve had to learn the hard way however, is that it is important to confirm that the places I’d like to visit are actually open to the public prior to leaving home. On far too many occasions, I’ve shown up only to find a locked door resulting in disappointment. To solve that from happening, I’ve had to further organize my list based on various factors and variables that most people would likely consider far too obsessive.

At the top of my list, you’ll find some of the nation’s most elusive destinations, and are those that are essentially only open to the public on special occasions - Places such as the Presidential Palace and other historic Japanese-era buildings in Taipei for example, which are currently home to important government offices, are some of the most difficult to check out, and if and when they’re open to the public, advance notice is often required for a permit for my camera gear. That being said, even though it seems like a hassle, when I’m able to check one of these destinations off my list, I rarely ever find myself disappointed.

So, when the opportunity presented itself to make a long-awaited visit to the ‘Taipei Guest House’, I woke up bright and early, hopped on a bus to Taipei, and spent a half day enjoying the absolute beauty of one of Taiwan’s most important heritage sites. Having been at the top of my list for what seemed like years, it’s one of those buildings that is only ever open to the public on special occasions, and unfortunately for me, when it is open, I’m usually stuck at work. That being said, there are (arguably) very few historic buildings in Taiwan that are able to compare to the spectacular architectural beauty of the Guest House, so with the rare opportunity to visit, I made sure to make the most of my time and also made sure to get all of the photos that I needed as I wouldn’t be able to visit again for quite some time.

Given how difficult it is to visit, I probably shouldn’t have been all that surprised to discover that there are very few authoritative resources available regarding the building and it’s history. So when I started the research portion of writing this article, there wasn’t a whole lot to rely on, save for an unusually detailed Wikipedia entry, and the typical information provided by the Ministry of Culture, which maintains open-source documents on most of the nation’s heritage sites.

Most of my go-to resources for the research I do weren’t offering much assistance, so this one required a trip to Taipei to the National Archives for some additional research as well as a trip to the library of Chung Yuan University (中原大學) to check out the work of one of the university’s professors, who has written extensively on the subject. I’m not really complaining though, visiting the archives is one of my favorite things to do as it is a treasure trove of invaluable information.

The Taipei Guest House, which was originally the Governor General of Taiwan’s official mansion, has played an important role throughout history - hosting important dignitaries such as members of the Japanese royal family, in addition to hosting diplomatic receptions and ceremonies for foreign dignitaries. So, for a building of such historic significance, I’m going to attempt to do my best to tell its story, properly and I hope that the photos I took during my visit do it justice.

I’ll start out by detailing the history of the Governor General’s Mansion and it’s architectural design, then move onto it’s post-war role as the Taipei Guest House, and end by offering information about how you can visit as well. By the end, I hope that if didn’t die of boredom reading the article that you’ll be inspired as inspired as I was to visit, when the building is open!   

Taiwan Governor General’s Mansion (臺灣總督官邸)

By 1899 (明治29年), four years into Japan’s occupation of Taiwan, the colonial government had initiated a significant number of urban development projects around the island, hoping to be able to more efficiently bring the island under its control, as well as extracting its rich natural resources. The development projects included public works, a railway, civic buildings, and the reshaping of the towns and villages that would make up Taiwan’s future cities. In the capital, Taihoku, the government had been busy tearing down the Qing-era City Walls, and pretty much anything that stood in the way to make way for the ‘Chokushi Kaido’ (勅使街道 / ちょくしかいどう), otherwise known as the Imperial Road. That road, which is known as Zhongshan North Road (中山北路) today, essentially started in the location where the Governor General’s Mansion was planned to be constructed and went all the way to where the Taiwan Grand Shrine (臺灣神宮 / たいわんじんぐう) would be constructed, all for the purpose of allowing anyone visiting from the royal family to take a direct route from where they were staying to the shrine.

With the construction on the shrine and the mansion meant to start and completed at the same time, the thought was that these two symbols were meant to put Japan’s ‘power’ and ‘modernity’ on display, helping to convince the people of Taiwan that they were better off under the stewardship of the empire. The Governor at the time, General Kodama Gentaro (兒玉源太郎 / こだま げんたろう), who is remembered fondly for his eight year tenure contributing to the improvement of Taiwan’s infrastructure and the general living conditions, argued that the mansion was meant to symbolize the power of the emperor, and that no expense should be spared to ensure that it would be as imposing as it was beautiful.

Financed directly by the Japanese treasury, the high cost of constructing the mansion became a contentious issue back in Tokyo, especially given that some of the funds allocated for the Grand Shrine were being used for the mansion. Thus, Governor General Kodama’s right hand man, Gotō Shinpei (後藤新平 / ごとうしんぺい), who was the head of Taiwan’s Civil Affairs Office (台灣民政長官) at the time, was recalled back to Tokyo to explain personally to the Japanese government.

The mansion from the front gate, what is now the roundabout on Ketagalan Boulevard

While the grilling he received from the Imperial Diet probably wasn’t his idea of a good time, Goto reiterated that the mansion represented the authority of the emperor in Taiwan, and given that few Taiwanese understood Japan’s power and prosperity, the stateliness of the mansion would help to convince them that they were part of something much larger and prosperous than they could have imagined.

Designed by architects Togo Fukuda (福田東吾 / ふくだとうご) and Ichiro Nomura (野村一郎 / .のむら いちろう), who are also credited with quite a few other buildings in Taiwan, the Governor General’s Mansion was completed on Sept. 26, 1901 (明治31年), at a total cost of 217,000 Yen, which is about the equivalent of $2.2 million US dollars today.

Note: Calculating Meiji-era 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 massive inflation during the post-war period. To calculate the number above, I used the following formula: In 1901, the corporate goods price index was 0.469 where it is currently 698.6, meaning that one yen then is worth 1490 yen now. (217,000 x 1490 = 323,330,000) 昔の「1円」は今のいくら?1円から見る貨幣価値‧今昔物語

Indigenous Taiwanese visiting the Governor-General’s Mansion

As mentioned above, the completion of the mansion was meant to coincide with the consecration of the Taiwan Grand Shrine, with the timing of the completion of both projects important given that ceremonies were planned to be held on the sixth anniversary of Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa’s (北白川宮能久親王) death. Passing away during the conquest of Taiwan in 1895, the prince was enshrined within the Grand Shrine as “Kitashirakawa no Miya Yoshihisa-shinnō no Mikoto”, and his widow Tomiko (島津富子) traveled to Taiwan to take part in the ceremony, officially becoming the first member of the royal family to stay in the mansion.

Link: Taiwan Grand Shrine | 臺灣神宮 (Wiki)

The rear veranda.

Nevertheless, despite the amount of money that was used to construct the mansion, it was built at a time when the Japanese were yet to fully appreciate the awesome power of Taiwan’s termites, so after about a decade, the building had started to show signs of structural instability - This posed a considerable problem for the colonial government as it was not only used as the official residence of the Governor General, but also as his office. Similarly, it was thought that the mansion wasn’t actually designed to accommodate royal visitors, who often traveled with large entourages, which meant that a restoration and expansion project would have to take place to solve these issues.

In 1911 (明治44年), Governor General Sakuma Samata (佐久間左馬太 / さくま さまた), who is credited with introducing baseball to Taiwan a year prior, ordered the restoration and expansion of the mansion and enlisted a superstar architect, Moriyama Matsunosuke (森山松之助 / もりやま まつのすけ) to head up the project. With a budget of 150,000 Yen (approximately $1.5 million USD). The restoration process took two years to complete, and during that time, the Governor General and his family were moved to a temporary residence nearby.

Moriyama converted the exterior of the building from its original neo-renaissance style (新文藝復興樣式) design to a baroque design (新巴洛克形式), and converted the roof into a French-style Mansard design. Likewise, the interior space of the building expanded considerably and no expense was spared with regard to the mansion’s interior design; Imitating French palace design with Victorian floor tiles, fireplaces imported from Europe, rugs, sulk curtains, chandeliers, ornate stucco sculptures and decorations throughout the building.

In terms of the expansion, a total of 978㎡ (296坪) was added to the interior on the second and third floors, 333㎡ (101坪) for the balconies that surrounded the building, 36㎡ (11坪) for the porte-cochère (covered car port at the front of the building), and 19㎡ (6坪) for the dining room.

From 1901 until 1945, the Governor General’s Mansion housed sixteen of the nineteen Governor Generals who ruled over Taiwan during the Japanese-era. While no expense was spared in its renovations, a few short years after the project was completed, Moriyama Matsunosuke’s magnum opus, the iconic Government-General of Taiwan (臺灣總督府廳舍) building, known today as the Presidential Office (總統府), was completed and official government activities shifted from the residence to the massive new building a short distance away.

Link: Governor-General of Taiwan | 臺灣總督 (Wiki)

Nevertheless, the mansion continued to serve a dual-role as an official residence as well as receiving important guests and dignitaries, hosting members of the royal family, and was the ideal location for important government events - the most important of which came in 1923 (大正12年) when it hosted Crown Prince Hirohito (裕仁 / ひろひと) during his tour of Taiwan - just two years prior to ascending the throne as Emperor Showa (昭和天皇).

In 1945 (昭和20年), when the Second World War came to an end, the Japanese empire was forced to relinquish control of Taiwan as per the terms of their surrender. Leaving the island in a far better condition than they found it five decades earlier, the Republic of China took over and the Governor General’s Mansion became the official residence of the Provincial Governor of Taiwan (臺灣省主席). Then, in 1949 (民國38年), when the Chinese Nationalists were forced to retreat to Taiwan, after suffering devastating losses in the Chinese Civil War (國共內戰), they brought with them almost two million refugees, and the situation on the island changed completely.

Renamed the Taipei Guest House (臺北賓館) in 1950 (民國39年), the residence was put under the control of the Presidential Office, although it wasn’t used as one of the dozens of homes that President Chiang Kai-Shek (蔣介石) frequented during the remainder of his life in Taiwan. In 1952, in what could be interpreted as rubbing salt in their wounds, the Sino-Japanese Peace Treaty (中日和平條約), more commonly known as the Treaty of Taipei (台北和約) was signed at the Guest House, which was one of the iconic images of Japanese power in Taiwan, now under the control of the Chinese Nationalists. From then on, the Guest House has been used frequently for affairs of state, and has played host to foreign dignitaries and allies of the Republic of China, who are wined and dined in the historic building.

The building has been restored on two occasions in the post-war era, once in 1977 (民國66年) when the interior was refurbished and then again from 2002 to 2006 (民國90年-95年) after a powerful typhoon made landfall in Taiwan, causing considerable damage. Once the restoration of the building was completed, costing the government an astounding NT$400,000,000 ($13.5 million USD), the Guest House continued in its capacity serving as a venue for hosting state functions, but for the first time in more than a century, it was made available on select occasions for tours, allowing the general public to get a glimpse of the interior for the first time.

Governor General’s Mansion Timeline

  • 1895 - Control of Taiwan is ceded to the Japanese at the end of the First Sino-Japanese war (淸日戰爭).

  • 1895 (明治28年) - A temporary Governor General’s Office is set up within the Qing Dynasty’s Provincial Administration Hall (臺灣布政使司衙門), prior to moving to the ‘Western Learning Hall’ (西學堂), a school constructed by the Qing to study western civilization.

  • 1900 (明治30年) - The first major urban development plan of the Japanese-era is completed for Taipei, and plans are drawn up to simultaneously construct a stately Governor General’s Mansion and the Taiwan Grand Shrine (臺灣神宮 / たいわんじんぐう).

  • 1901 (明治31年) - Construction on the mansion is completed on Sept. 26, and the first person to stay inside was the widow of Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa (北白川宮能久親王), who came to Taiwan to inaugurate the Grand Shrine on the sixth anniversary of her husband’s death.

  • 1911 (明治44年) - Having suffered an incredible amount of structural damage caused by termites, the mansion undergoes a period of expansion and restoration, with famed architect Matsunosuke Moriyama (森山松之助) overseeing the project and resulting in the design of the building that we can enjoy today.

  • 1913 (大正2年) - The restoration and expansion project on the mansion is completed.

  • 1920 (大正9年) - Governmental affairs shifts from offices in the official residence to the newly constructed Government-General of Taiwan (臺灣總督府廳舍 / たいわんそうとくふ), currently the Presidential Office Building (總統府).

  • 1923 (大正12年) - The mansion hosts Crown Prince Hirohito (裕仁 / ひろひと) during his tour of Taiwan, prior to his ascension to the throne as the Showa Emperor (昭和天皇) two years later.

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to a conclusion with the formal surrender of the Japanese Empire and control of Taiwan is ambiguously awarded to the Republic of China.

  • 1945 (民國34年) - The mansion becomes home to the Provincial Governor of Taiwan (臺灣省主席) for a short period of time.

  • 1949 (民國38年) - Facing defeat in the Chinese Civil War (國共內戰), a massive retreat is ordered by the Kuomintang, and millions of Chinese refugees are brought to Taiwan.

  • 1950 (民國39年) - The mansion is turned over to the Presidential Office (總統府) and is officially converted into the Taipei Guest House (臺北賓館).

  • 1952 (民國41年) - The Treaty of Taipei (台北和約) is signed by representatives of the post-war Japanese Government and the Republic of China, formally ending the hostilities of the Second World War.

  • 1963 (民國52年) - The Guest House is formally lent to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in order to facilitate the entertainment of foreign guests and dignitaries visiting Taiwan at state functions.

  • 1977 (民國66年) - The interior of the building is restored by the government.

  • 1998 - The Taipei Guest House is designated as a National Monument (國定古蹟), one of the highest levels of recognition awarded to heritage buildings under the current government system.

  • 2001 (民國90年) - A considerable amount of structural damage to the building, likely as a result of Typhoon Toraji (颱風桃芝), forces the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to shut the building down.

  • 2002 - 2006 (民國91年-95年) - The Taipei Guest House enters a four year long period of restoration that costs about NT$400,000,000 ($13.5 million USD).

  • 2006 (民國91年) - After more than a century, the Taipei Guest House is opened up for the enjoyment of the public, however, only on very select occasions as it continues to serve as the venue for hosting state functions.

Now that I’ve gone through the history of the building, I’m going to spend some time describing it’s architectural design, which is quite significant given the age and importance of the building.

First though, as a show of respect for one of my favorite local writers, Han Cheung’s article about the mansion in the Taipei Times is probably one of the best English-language articles about the building that you’ll find, so I recommend giving it a read at some point.

Link: Taiwan in Time: An extravagant colonial palace (Han Cheung / Taipei Times)

Architectural Design

The architectural design of the building is a tale that is told in two different chapters, namely the extravagant ‘first generation’ design, and the ostentatious ‘second generation’ design, which built upon what came before it. Touching on its designers earlier, it’s important to repeat that the mansion, completed in 1901, was the brainchild of Togo Fukuda and Ichiro Nomura, a pair of accomplished architects who designed a fair number of the earlier buildings constructed during the Japanese-era. Building upon his predecessors work, Moriyama Matsunosuke, a man who I personally consider one of Taiwanese history’s most prolific architects, swooped in and made the sweeping changes to the building’s design, which also helped to ensure its longevity, and is one of the reasons why we’re able to continue enjoying it today.

Note: I’m pretty sure that not everyone pays as much attention to these things as I do, but if we take a look at the work of Moriyama, many of the iconic buildings he designed are still standing and in operation today, including the Taichung Prefectural Hall (台中州廳), the Monopoly Bureau (専売局), the Taipei Prefectural Hall (台北州廳), Tainan Prefectural Hall (台南州廳), the Taipei Railway Bureau (台北鐵道部), the Taipei Aqueduct (臺北水道水源地) and the Presidential Office (總統府).

First Generation Governor-General’s Mansion (第一代總督官邸)

First-Generation Mansion from the front.

As previously mentioned, there are some very noticeable differences in the design of the first generation mansion, and what came later. In both cases however, the architects sought to mimic the architectural design that was popular in Europe at the time. The first generation mansion designed by Togo Fukuda and Ichiro Nomura adhered to the ‘Neo-Renaissance’ style of design popularized in France and inspired by Italian architects. The end result was a building characterized by its rectangular and circular decorative elements on the exterior of the building. Staying true to the revival-style design, the building featured a rectangular main-wing in the center with asymmetrical wings on both the left and right. It also adhered to what is known as ‘flat classicism’ in that the exterior walls feature very few decorative elements, placing greater importance on proportion, harmony, and linear symmetry.

One of the questionable aspects of the ‘asymmetry’ of the wings however. was that the original western wing was a flat square section that prominently featured a dome, one of the important aspects of European architectural design that made a comeback with the revival style. The eastern-wing meanwhile was concave in design, and instead of a dome, featured a roof-covered balcony, with an almost 360 degree view of the area surrounding the mansion.

The two-story residence was constructed using a mixture of brick and stone with wooden roof trusses in the ceiling, helping to keep the roof in place. Surrounded on all sides by covered verandas, the one area where you’d find curved arched spaces in the design.

The usage of the interior space was unlike what you’d expect from a traditional Japanese-style mansion in that only the east-wing of the second floor was reserved as the private residence of the Governor-General and his family, while the first floor was home to a reception lobby, administration office, meeting rooms, a banquet hall, and a game room.

Where much of the beauty of the original design came into focus was within the interior where there was beautifully laid parquet flooring and stucco columns located throughout the building that played both functional and decorative roles. Given that the mansion was meant to imitate that of a European palace, the interior also featured beautiful chandeliers, silk curtains, and many other imported decorative elements.

Finally, one of the lasting design elements of the building were the gardens that surrounded the building, featuring European-style gardens in the front and a Japanese-style garden to the rear.

Unfortunately, almost all of the remaining photos of the first generation mansion were taken of the exterior, so describing the beauty of the interior design is something that can only be done through the interpretation of historic records.

Second Generation Governor-General’s Mansion (第二代總督官邸)

In what one could assume was simply a natural progression from the Renaissance-Revival architectural style of the first generation version of the mansion, architect Moriyama Matsunosuke completely redesigned the mansion into a style more commonly associated with what is known as either Neo-Baroque, or Baroque-Revival, a style which would become quite prominent in both Taiwan and Japan in the early 20th century.

Possibly taking inspiration from Tokyo’s Akasaka Palace (迎賓館赤坂離宮 / げいひんかんあかさかりきゅう), one of the Japanese government’s two current official state guest houses, Moriyama’s alterations to the building were decorative in nature, but also practical in that his work ensured the longevity of the building’s structural health. The project got underway in 1911 when then Governor General Sakuma Samata ordered the restoration and expansion of the mansion, and during the two years that it took to complete, the Governor-General and his office vacated the residence.

Moriyama’s vision threw out all of the straight lines and the ‘flatness’ of the original and replaced them with curvaceousness and an array of rich surface treatments carved into the facade of the building. The most noticeable differences can be found in the center of the main wing of the building where Moriyama completely redesigned the roof, windows and the second-floor balcony. Most notably, within the triangular section between the upper part of the balcony and the third floor, the once empty section features some pretty important carvings. Displaying the official logo used during the Japanese-era to signify Taiwan, an important part of the stamp that signified the office of the Governor-General. Likewise, in all of the flat empty sections of space above and below the windows, decorative elements were added to show off the ‘flowing nature’ of baroque architectural design.

Given that Taiwan’s termites were having a wonderful time with the wood used to construct the building, having learned their lesson the hard way, Japanese architects came up with methods to solve these problems. In this case, Moriyama replaced the original wooden roof trusses in the building with steel trusses and converted the roof into a two-sloped Mansard-style design, a style common among the architecture of French palaces. In this case, the roof allowed for circular dormer windows (ox-eye 牛眼窗), a favorite of Japanese architects at the time, but more importantly, these changes allowed for the construction of a third floor, increase in the interior space of the building.

Link: Mansard Roof (Wiki)

With 978㎡ (296坪) of floor space added to the mansion during the expansion, design of the interior space likewise required a considerable amount of attention, and with a budget that was nearly half of the original cost of construction, no expense was spared. When the project was completed, the mansion would have appeared similar to what you’d expect from a typical French palace. Featuring stucco sculptures, columns, stained glass windows and beautiful white walls mixed featuring golden mosaics and carvings throughout the interior.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that my experience walking through the mansion was similar to walking through parts of the Vatican. I felt like I was transported back to my travels through Europe, which isn’t a feeling you often get while visiting historic buildings in Taiwan. I suppose that shouldn’t be particularly surprising though, given that these decorative elements are all indicative of Baroque design. Exploring the second floor, especially, it should be quite easy to see why with all of the flowing golden arches and the network of pillars that you’ll see in each of the rooms open for the tour.

Another important aspect of the restoration project that should be mentioned was to add a bit of modern technology was added to the building, included retrofitting for modern lighting and central heating systems. I’m not particularly sure why a heating system was necessary given Taiwan’s climate, but in addition to central heating, seventeen fireplaces were imported from Europe along with rugs, silk curtains, chandeliers and Victorian floor tiles to complete the redesign.   

Having experienced and enjoyed Moriyama’s work in a few of Taiwan’s other historic Japanese-era buildings, it’s easy to see why he was chosen to be the designer of so many of the colonial government’s most important construction projects. The legacy that he’s left here in Taiwan is one that we’re fortunately able to continue enjoying more than a century after he hopped on a boat and headed back to Japan.

Link: The helmsman who shaped the style of Taipei City (Shelley Shan / Taipei Times)

Interestingly, despite his love of European Baroque revivalist design, when Moriyama returned to Japan in 1921, he took on an assignment designing the ‘Imperial Pavilion’ at Shinjuku Gyo-en National Garden (新宿御苑 / しんじゅくぎょえん), dedicated to the Showa Emperor. The pavilion, which is now regarded as the “Taiwan Pavilion” was constructed using Taiwanese cypress and traditional red clay bricks, took inspiration from traditional Taiwanese architectural design, an obvious nod to his years here.

Visiting the Taipei Guest House (臺北賓館)

After more than a century, tours of the Taipei Guest House opened to the public in 2006, just after the building had finished being restored. Having entered an era of democratic openness and transparency, I imagine it’s only understandable that the government couldn’t very well justify spending so much money restoring a building that so few of the nation’s taxpayers would ever be able to enjoy.

Starting from June 4th, 2006, the Guest House was set to be open to the public on the first Sunday of even months, essentially making it available to the public six days a year. However, over the decade since tours started, the number of days that the building is available has slightly increased, but the availability of these tours depends on the annual schedule of events taking place within the building.

So, even though it is supposed to be open on certain weekends, depending on whether or not any state functions are taking place, you might end up being a little disappointed if you try to visit without checking beforehand.

Suffice to say, with Taiwan closing its borders during the COVID-19 pandemic, the building was open for tours more often than in previous years, but there is no indication as to whether or not this will become the norm in years to come as the world opens back up for tourism. Additionally, given the number of international policy makers finding their way to Taiwan as of late, it’s only understandable that the number of official events taking place at the mansion will increase, which means that the number of public tours will decline.

If you would like to visit the Guest House, it’s important that you pay close attention to the yearly calendar of openings on the Ministry of Foreign Affairs official website, which is linked below:

Link: Open House Schedule | 假日開放參觀

I caution you however that Taiwanese Government Websites are notorious for randomly disappearing, so if either of the links provided above aren’t working, I recommend heading over to Google and typing “Taipei Guest House” or “台北賓館” where you’ll likely find whatever new website they’ve started using in addition to the schedule of open houses for the year.

A tip that you may find helpful is that whenever the Guest House is officially open for public tours, the Presidential Office is as well, so if you’re feeling ambitious, you might be able to enjoy a tour of both buildings on the same day, although for someone like me, I’d find it far too difficult.

While touring the building, you’ll be able to walk around the open areas freely, but there are quite a few sections of the building, and the gardens, which are off-limits to guests. You’ll notice that there are volunteers watching at all times to make sure you don’t stray off into an area where you’re not welcome. Similarly, if you’re carrying a lot of photo gear, it’s important to remember that flash photography is prohibited within the building, and you’re also not permitted to use a tripod.

Interestingly, if you break any of the guidelines set for visits, it’s likely that you’ll be asked to leave immediately, which will also result in a two year ban - So try to be on your best behavior!

Getting There

 

Address: (臺北市中正區凱達格蘭大道1號)

GPS: 25.039810, 121.515870

Located within the heart of the governing district of the capital, the Taipei Guest House is situated a short distance from the Presidential Office (總統府), the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall (中正紀念堂), the East Gate (景福門) and the 228 Peace Memorial Park (二二八和平公園). Similarly, it is within walking distance of several of Taipei’s MRT stations, so getting there should be relatively straight forward.

While the Guest House is located closest to the NTU Hospital MRT Station (台大醫院捷運站), you could also elect to walk a short distance from either Taipei Main Station (台北車站), Ximen Station (西門捷運站) or Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall Station (中正紀念堂捷運站). For most people however, the chance to visit the Guest House is one of those things where you won’t want to waste too much time on a walking tour of the capital, so your best option is to make your way directly to the NTU Hospital station and take either Exit 1 or Exit 2 where you’ll walk a short distance along Gongyuan Road (公園路) to the front gate on the corner of Gongyuan and Ketagalen Boulevard (凱達格蘭大道).

Bus

As far as I’m concerned, the MRT is probably your best method of getting to the Guest House, but there are quite a few people who swear by Taipei’s excellent public bus system, so if you’re one of them, you’re in luck as you are afforded a number of options in this respect given that it is located next to one of the city’s most important hospitals. You’ll find that there are a number of bus stops within walking distance, but I’m only going to provide the bus routes for the closest bus stop to save both myself and yourself some time.

NTU Hospital MRT Station Bus Stop (捷運台大醫院站): 2, 5, 18, 20, 37, 222, 241, 243, 245, 249, 251, 295, 513, 604, 621, 640, 644, 648, 651, 656670, 706, 835, 938  East 0, 信義幹線, 仁愛幹線

Click on any of the links above for the route map and real-time information for each of the buses. If you haven’t already, I recommend using the Taipei eBus website or downloading the “台北等公車” app to your phone, which will help you map out your trip.

Link: Bus Tracker (臺北等公車) - Apple | Android

Youbike

If you’ve decided to ride one of the city’s popular Youbike’s to the Guest House, you’re in luck as there are Youbike docking stations located near the NTU Hospital MRT Station exit, where you can dock your bike and then walk over to the Guest House. You can also find additional docking stations on either side of the East Gate as well as along the entrance to Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall.

If you haven’t already, I highly recommend downloading the Youbike App to your phone so that you’ll have a better idea of the location where you’ll be able to find the closest docking station.

Links: Youbike - Apple / Android

The Taipei Guest House has hosted princes and princesses to presidents, prime ministers, etc. - As one of Taipei’s most important destinations for state functions, the stately mansion has played host to countless events over the past one hundred and twenty years, and will continue to serve an important role for marketing Taiwan to the rest of the world.

Now that we, the little people, are able to enjoy a taste of the Guest House, it’s become a pretty popular tourist destination, especially for domestic tourists. If you’re in Taiwan and you have the chance to visit, you should probably take the opportunity to enjoy a tour. It’s highly recommend however that anyone wanting to visit pay close attention to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs website (linked above), which provides the list of dates on the annual visitation schedule, so that you don’t miss out.

References

  1. Taipei Guest House | 台北賓館 (Wiki)

  2. Taipei Guest House | 台北賓館 (Ministry of Foreign Affairs / 外交部)

  3. Taipei Guest House (Digital Taiwan)

  4. 臺北賓館 (國家文化資產網)

  5. 台北賓館:不曾被遺忘的華麗建築 (公共電視台 異人的足跡)

  6. 國定古蹟台北賓館調查研究/原台灣總督官邸 (黃俊銘)

  7. Taiwan in Time: An extravagant colonial palace (Han Cheung / Taipei Times)

  8. Lafayette East Asia Image Collection (Historic Photos)