Taipei

TokyoBike Taipei Cafe

If it weren’t obvious enough already, a large portion of the research and writing I do about Taiwan revolves around the island’s five decade-long Japanese Colonial era. Over the past few years, I’ve worked to combine my photography with my writing and research skills to help tell the stories of some of the nation’s historic buildings, which is admittedly a great time to be into this kind of thing with the number of buildings that have been restored in recent years.

Writing about Shinto Shrines, Martial Arts Halls, Civic Buildings, Train Stations, and the dormitories provided to the civil servants of the era, I’ve covered a wide range of topics, but one that I’m especially proud of was a long research project that delved deeply into the Taiwanese government’s attempt to restore these buildings, and then seek private enterprises to assist in their operation. Coming from a university background in International Development, it’s important for me to see that the government isn’t just throwing bags of taxpayers dollars at these historic buildings with no clear, or sustainable vision for the future - Because, let’s face it, the reach of the government can only go so far - and attracting a steady stream of visitors to these historic buildings is one of the best ways to ensure that they continue to be saved, rather than bulldozed.

If you haven’t had the chance to read it, I highly recommend taking a look at the (sorry, very long) article I wrote about how the Taiwanese government is officially enlisting the participation of private enterprises to assist with the operation of some of these buildings, especially since it will offer a lot more context to what I’m going to be introducing below.

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

Since completing the article above, I’ve naturally become interested in how those remaining buildings from that era are put to use - and with restoration projects taking place around the country at an astounding rate, the resurrection of these buildings has brought about a new level of awareness about the nation’s modern history. That history, which spans periods of Dutch, Spanish, Qing and Japanese-eras of colonial control, is something that was largely frowned upon in the nation’s classrooms during the Martial Law Period, but has within the last few decades become an important tool for helping the people of Taiwan become more aware of the history, where they come from, and more important has assisted in forming a Taiwanese identity.

For some people, a visit to these historic buildings can help them learn more about what it means to be Taiwanese. Some of the time though, people just want to sit in a coffee shop and relax - and thanks to places like Tokyo Bike Taipei, people can do just that while enjoying a bit of history at the same time!

Before I start, there are a few housekeeping notes that I’d like to remind readers about: The first is that I’m going to spend a bit of time introducing the historic building and what it was used for prior to it’s recent restoration and the coffee shop taking up residence within. The next thing I’d like everyone to keep in mind is that as always, I’m not getting paid for this post. I’ll briefly introduce the coffee shop, but I’m not going to be sharing photos of the menu or the coffee that I had while visiting - I’m not a food blogger and I’m writing this purely out of interest for the building - although I did enjoy my visit as I feel like the building is being put to pretty good use.

Shintomicho Market Dormitory (新富町食料品小賣市場員工宿舍)

Restored alongside the dormitory, the historic Shintomicho Market building was brought back to life as a cultural and tourist attraction in early 2017. An important part of the Bangkha neighborhood for at least nine decades, the building fell into disuse in the early 1990s and was abandoned for quite a while prior to the city recognizing it as a civic historic monument (市定古蹟).

Walking through the artistically-designed building today, you’d probably find it hard to believe that it was constructed to house a wet market - especially if you’ve had experienced walking through any of Taiwan’s other traditional markets. Constructed in 1935 (昭和10年), which was pretty much the height of the Showa era (昭和) in Taiwan, the building was designed as a fusion of eastern and western architectural styles, but also displayed the modern approach to construction that the era is best known for.

To better explain, Taiwan was taken over during the Meiji era (1868-1912), followed by the Taisho era (1912-1926), and then the Showa era (1926-1989). Each of these so-called ‘eras’ is named after the emperor who ruled over the Japanese empire at the time. When the Japanese first arrived in Taiwan in 1895 (明治28年), the construction and development that took place was rudimentary, and later refined during the Taisho era. Initially, the infrastructure required for major construction projects was constrained, but as time passed by and the island was developed, it became much easier to construct more complex buildings. No where is this more prevalent than in the history of the nation’s historic railway stations, some of which (despite being a century old) are second and third generation structures. So, as the island developed, construction techniques were refined, and the Showa era thus became one of the more artistic with regard to architectural design.

Compared to modern wet markets, which are naturally dark, dank and smelly, the authorities at the time constructed this beautiful building with natural ventilation and natural light, making it the kind of place where vendors would compete ferociously to get a spot.

The newly constructed market brought with it not only prosperity for the local vendors, but a more sanitary experience where people were able to purchase daily necessities in an era where modern supermarkets had yet to appear. Attracting both Taiwanese and Japanese customers, the market would have been a cultural melting pot with freshly grown produce and meat. Suffice to say, like most buildings that were constructed in the late stages of the colonial era, prosperity would have been somewhat fleeting as the outbreak of the Second World War brought with it air raids by the allied forces and the decline of the local economy.

In the post-war era, the influx of refugees fleeing the Chinese Civil War created new opportunity for the market. One of the issues however was in order to actually open up shop within the building, vendors were required to obtain a license, something that would have been rather difficult for the local Taiwanese members of society given the political climate of the Martial Law period. Thus, the market started to expand from the original building to a wet market (which continues to remain in operation today) as it was easier for vendors to set up unlicensed stalls nearby. As Taiwan continued to develop over the next few decades, wholesale markets, supermarkets and hypermarkets started appearing across the country making it difficult for traditional wet markets to compete with lower prices.

As mentioned earlier, the market building was more or less abandoned in the early 1990s, and was left on its own for quite a while prior to being recognized as a protected civic monument. Years of abandonment left the building in pretty terrible shape, but it has been beautifully restored, and even though I’m not particularly a big fan of the way it’s used today, it’s a pretty cool place to visit if you’re in the area, especially for anyone visiting Longshan Temple (龍山寺).

The purpose of this article however isn’t to introduce the market, something that I might go into more detail in the future, but instead the Japanese-style dormitory constructed to the rear, where the TokyoBike Taipei coffee shop is located today.

Unfortunately, very little information has been published about the former dormitory, so I’ll be presenting a few facts based on the little information I could find and mixing it with my personal experience within the building and comparing it to some of the other buildings I’ve introduced in the past in order to offer readers a better idea of what you’d see during a visit to the building today.

Constructed alongside the market, the historic dormitory dates back to 1935, and to the naked eye appears similar to almost all of the other Japanese-era dormitories that I’ve introduced in the past. There is however a major difference about the building’s design that makes is different. Constructed to house the administrator of the market (and his family), the building also provided office space for the daily operation of the market. So, even though it might appear similar to other Japanese-era homes from the outside, the interior has some slight design variations that make it stand apart.

Officially classified as a ‘Single-Family Dwelling’ (獨棟木造日式建築), the size of the building was determined by the standard set in 1922 by the Taiwan Colonial Government’s building standards policy (台灣總督府官舍建築標準). In what would have been considered a low-ranking position in terms of the hierarchy of Japanese-era civic officials, the amount of space allotted for the construction of the building would have been about 83㎡ (25坪). In this case though, given that an office space for the administration of the market would have been included in the architectural design of the house, it would have made the amount of space somewhat cramped for the family living there.

Link: 台灣日式建築:官舍 —— 台灣樣.建築百科

While the building combined both private and public functions, the spatial design of the interior allowed for a comfortable separation between these two spaces, offering privacy to the families who occupied the space over the years. That being said, as (what would have been considered) a low-ranking official, the entrances to the house were notably different in comparison to its contemporaries.

For the family, the main entrance would have passed through the kitchen, where you’d have to pass through to reach the private space. For guests, or business-related visitors, a separate entrance would have offered access from a door to the right of the main entrance, offering direct access to the office space. Today, that ‘office space’ continues to be used as an administrative space for the coffeeshop, so it’s not actually open to the public.

In this particular case, what made the ‘family-side’ entrance different from others was that it was connected directly to the kitchen, which in most cases would have been a rear door to a garden. Passing directly through the ground-level kitchen brings you to a set of stairs where you walk up to the elevated private section of the house. Today, the coffeeshop maintains a similar design in that the barista’s bar as well as the kitchen is located in this ground-level area with the guest seating area in within the private area.

Despite some of the differences in interior design, its important to note that the basic design rule for traditional Japanese homes remains the same in that the building consists of the following three functional spaces: a living space (起居空間), a service space (服務空間) and a passage space (通行空間). Within each of these ‘spaces’ there can be a number of rooms, depending on the size of the building, but this one is somewhat basic, so it’s easier to describe.

Starting with the service space, you’ll find the kitchen (台所 / だいどころ), bathroom (風呂 / ふろ) and washroom (便所 / べんじょ). Interestingly, the bathroom and the washroom were located on opposite ends of the long ‘engawa’ (緣側/えんがわ) veranda between the living space and the office space.

Part of the ‘passage space’, the engawa is a large sliding-door veranda that could be opened up to allow some fresh air into the building as well as a space for the family to relax given that they didn’t have much of a front yard. The rest of the passage space in the building however is not as clearly defined as other Japanese-era residences, which only really consists of the space between the kitchen and the private living area and the kitchen and the office space.

Finally, the ‘living space’ may seem considerably different from what we’re used to by western standards but what the space essentially consists of is a two-room open space separated by something similar to a living room with the other being the bedroom. The first of these two spaces (座敷 / ざしき), and is essentially a living room where the family could spend time together. Within this space you’d find an alcove referred to as tokonoma (床の間/とこのま) and a chigaidana (違棚 / ちがいだな), which are both reserved for placing some decorative elements in the living space. During the Japanese-era, you’d likely find calligraphy, floral arrangements or simple artistic elements. Today, you’ll find one of TokyoBike’s beautiful bicycles on display.

Link: Tokonoma (Wiki) 

The second section of the living space is the area reserved as the family’s sleeping space (居間 / いま). Essentially just an open space, save for the two alcoves against the walls, known as ‘oshiire’ (押入 / おしいれ). Within these two closet-like spaces, the family would store their bedding during the day, in addition to their clothing and other personal items. Today this narrow bedroom space is simply home to a couple of tables for the patrons of the coffeeshop.

TokyoBike Taipei

Originally located in the Minsheng East Community (民生社區), a block of social housing that was recently demolished by the city, Tokyo Bike Taiwan was forced to relocate after seven years of operation in it’s original location due to a long-planned urban renewal plan, which coincidentally also saw the demolition of the former Taiwan Railway Dormitories that I wrote about a few years back.

The dorm, which was initially occupied by Dadaocheng’s famed Hoshing 1947 pastry shop (合興壹玖肆柒) became available in late March of 2021 when the branch, which housed a traditional tea shop paired with the company’s pastries closed its doors after three years of operation. Even though the final Facebook post on Hoshing 88’s (合興八十八亭) page doesn’t offer a reason as to why the teashop went out of business, it’s safe to assume that a lack of business due to the COVID-19 pandemic was one of the deciding factors. Taiwan remained relatively safe for much of the pandemic, due to proactive policy decisions, but businesses around the country, much like the rest of the world, suffered immensely.

The opportunity to migrate from one historic area of the capital to an even more historic building was probably almost too good to be true for the owners of Tokyo Bike Taiwan, but as I described in my article about these Public-Private Partnerships, there is an official application process that has to be undertaken, and a fair advertising period has to be ensured so that the process is undertaken fairly and transparently.

Prospective renters have to come up with a business plan and undergo a long contract process prior to any agreements being signed. While the pandemic might have dealt the final blow to the building’s previous tenants, it could also have proved to be an opportunity for TokyoBike as competition was not likely to have been as fierce for the operational rights of the building. The application was obviously approved, and on December 21st, 2021, TokyoBike Taiwan officially reopened in the Shintomicho Market.

Note: I’m just making some assumptions here. I haven’t actually confirmed any of that.

Suffice to say, that is an oversimplification of the events that led up to the move to Wanhua.

This leads me to an important point - TokyoBike Taiwan is primarily a bike-selling and rental company that also provides general maintenance for the hip Japanese bicycles. You won’t see any of the bike sales taking place within the coffeeshop though, which begs the question: Where are all the bikes?

The bike showroom and the coffeeshop are separated, with the latter located within the beautifully restored Shintomicho Market building, known today as the “Taipei U-Mkt”, which offers a beautiful showroom on the second floor of the building as part of the rental agreement with the city.

The TokyoBike café features a menu of reasonably priced coffees, single-origin drip coffees, tea, sandwiches, hamburgers and appetizers that can be enjoyed within the cafe or for take out. Seating within the café is limited with only about four tables, a sofa, and bar-style seating next to the windows.

While I did enjoy my coffee when I visited the café, I have to say that I really appreciated the minimalist style design, which falls in line with the branding of ‘TokyoBike’, that officially follows a philosophy coined as “TokyoSlow,” combining ‘simplicity’, with ‘local art’ and ‘culture’.

Something that Taiwan’s hipster scene I’m sure really appreciates.

If any of this interests you and you find yourself in the area, then I recommend you stop by to check out the historic building and try some of the coffee or food they have available.

It's also a pretty good opportunity to let you know that if you visit the market or the coffeeshop that a good friend of mine just opened the Wanderland Bar within the Shintomicho Market where you can enjoy some cocktails and craft beer. As I’m posting this, I haven’t had the chance yet to visit, but I look forward to going soon, and I’ll make sure to stop by for a coffee as well!

Link: Wanderland Bar 萬華世界下午酒場 (Facebook)

Getting There

 

Address: #70, Sanshui Street, Wanhua District, Taipei (台北市萬華區三水街70號1樓)

GPS: 25.034700, 121.504860

If you plan on visiting this quaint little coffee shop, the best way to get there is to just hop on the Taipei MRT. I could spend a bunch of time telling you how to get there with a car, scooter, or Youbike, but in each of these cases, it doesn’t really make a lot of sense to take either of these methods of transportation.

The reason for this is actually quite simple - parking in Wanhua, especially near Longshan Temple is a notorious pain in the ass. There are, of course, some parking lots and roadside parking spaces nearby, but it’s likely that you’ll find yourself circling for quite a while before you find a spot. Similarly, the closest Youbike docking station is near the entrance to the temple, but the coffeeshop is at least a five-to-ten minute walk from there, depending on the amount of foot traffic in the area.

If you choose to make use of the fastest and most convenient method of travel, simply hop on the Taipei MRT’s Blue Line (板南線) and make your way to Longshan Temple Station (龍山寺捷運站). From there you’ll want to head in the direction of Exit 3 (3號出口) where you’ll find a small alley on the left. From the exit you just walk to the end of the alley and you’ll find the coffeeshop hidden in a corner by the old Xinfu Market (新富市場) and the Shintomicho Cultural Market (新富町文化市場). If you take the MRT, the walk to the coffeeshop should take less than a minute, and you won’t have to pay for or search for parking!

Website: TokyoBike Taiwan | Facebook

Hours: Tuesday - Sunday (08:30 - 6:00)

While in the Bangkha (艋舺) area, there are a number of things that you can do to pass your time. In addition to the coffeeshop you’ll find what’s known as the Bangka Big Three Temples (艋舺三大廟門) -  Longshan Temple (艋舺龍山寺), Qingshan Temple (艋舺青山宮) and Qingshui Temple (艋舺清水巖) in addition to Bopiliao Historic Block (剝皮寮歷史街區) and several night markets.

As far as I can tell, since the opening of the coffeeshop within the historic dorm, it has become quite a popular spot for local Instagrammers and coffee lovers. Truth be told, I visited the during the week and was fortunately able to avoid the crowds, but a friend visited a few days later and commented that there weren’t any seats available and there were a bunch of people outside taking photos. If you’re planning a weekend visit, it’s probably important that you keep this in mind as the seating within the old dorm is quite limited.

The popularity of the coffeeshop is something that can hopefully last for quite a while, and I hope that its success is one that others might consider when applying to form a partnership with the government in one of these historic buildings. Putting these places to good use is one of the best methods of ensuring that they continue to be saved, allowing people to continue enjoying them for years to come!

References

  1. 台北最美單車咖啡廳「tokyobike」!落腳萬華新富町,獨棟木造日式古蹟建築 (Shopping Design)

  2. Taipei's U-Mkt: A traditional Market Reborn (Taiwan Panorama)

  3. 新富町文化市場 (Travel Taipei)

  4. 新富町文化市場──古老市集的新生 (中央社)

  5. 新富市場 (國家文化資產網)


Nishi Honganji Square (西本願寺廣場)

Walking around Taipei’s Ximending Shopping, have you ever come across the random bell tower on the side of the road? If so, you might have asked yourself: “What’s the deal with that Japanese-looking thing in one of the city’s hippest urban areas?” Today, I’m here to answer that question, and possibly any others you might have about this piece of the city’s history.

Suffice to say, ‘Ximending’ (西門町), might never have become the popular place it is today without these buildings, and the urban development that came with them. So, in this article, I’m going to focus on the modern history of Ximen, introduce the building which was once located next to the bell tower, and the park that exists there today.

As usual, I’m going to provide some pretty in-depth information about some of these things, so if you just want to know about what exists there today, feel free to scroll down below to where I introduce the ‘Nishi Honganji Relics’ section, which focuses on the contemporary usage of the land as a public park and cultural space, a short distance away from the hustle and bustle from what has become known as the ‘Mecca’ of Taiwan’s youth culture.

Ximending (西門町 / せいもんちょう)

It’s unlikely that there are many people who visit Ximen today who stop and think: “I wonder what this place looked like a century ago?” The modern shopping district that we know and love has developed so much over the past few decades that it doesn’t even resemble a shadow of its former self. But this is what I do, I stop and look at things and try to appreciate the long history that helped to transform parts of our communities into what they are today.

Well over a century prior to becoming known as the “Shibuya of Taipei” and the arrival of all of its theaters, night clubs, karaoke bars and shopping, the ‘Ximen’ area was simply just a patch of swampy wilderness outside of the city’s ‘Baocheng Gate’ (寶成門), the Qing-era gate, more commonly known as the ’West Gate’ or ‘Ximen’ (西門), in Mandarin, which is where the area derives its name.

When the Japanese arrived in Taiwan in 1895 (明治28年), the area was completely undeveloped and consisted primarily of dengue-infested swamps, part of the first generation railway, and a road between the walled area of the city (台北城內) and Bangkha (艋舺), or Wanhua (萬華). Showing little interest in the confined nature of Chinese-style walled cities, the Japanese quickly got to work knocking them down in order to carry out their grander plans for massive urban development in what would be the capital of the empire’s new overseas colony.

Note: For a bit of scale, if you walked from the North Gate (北門) to the Ximen MRT Station (where the original west gate once stood), it would likely only take you about ten minutes. That walk would essentially consist of half of the walled area that was the ‘Taipei’ of the Qing-era. That being said, there were other developed areas nearby like Dadaocheng (大稻埕) and Bangkha (艋舺) that were located outside of the walls. Nevertheless, old Taipei was just a very small piece of one of the neighborhoods within the capital today.

Much of the development of the city in the initial years of the Japanese Colonial Era was influenced by the re-construction (re-routing) of the railway, which was essential to the empire’s plans for exerting control over the island as well as extracting its precious natural resources. With the railway from the northern port city of Keelung running through the north-eastern portion of Taipei, it curved in a south-western direction and made its way through Ximen and Bangkha before crossing the river on its way further south.

Having the Qing-era walls in the area complicated the construction of the south-bound railway out of the city, which was re-routed from the original track laid by the Qing a decade or so earlier. Within the first decade of the colonial era, the city developed at an almost inhuman speed with roads, public works and new buildings popping up all over the place. With all of the construction taking place, it might have seemed like the early years were all-work-and-no-play, so the government made the decision to follow the example of East Tokyo’s popular Asakusa District (浅草 / あさくさ), a specialized entertainment and economic area, and came up with plans to develop the land near the old Western Gate.

Taking inspiration from the Qing-era gate, the Japanese named the neighborhood “Seimon-chō” (西門町 / せいもんちょう), which translates directly to ‘Ximending’ in Mandarin. Starting in 1897 (明治30年), the area became home to business and entertainment facilities starting with the Taihokuza Theater (臺北座 / たいほくざ), then the Eiza Theater (榮座 / えいざ) and the still existing Seimon-cho Market and Department Store (西門市場八角樓), known today as the Red House Theater (紅樓劇場). In addition to theaters, markets and department stores, Ximen also became home to a number of restaurants and bars, marking the start of an entertainment, shopping and fine dining paradise, something which hasn’t changed for more than a century.

Link: Kishu An (紀州庵文學森林)

Business and entertainment in the area continued to thrive throughout the Japanese-era as the number of theaters continued to expand. When the Second World War ended and the Japanese were forced to surrender control of Taiwan, they left the citizens of the capital with a well-established appreciation for motion pictures and entertainment, and that is something that carried on in the post-war period as ‘Ximen’ continued its expansion, consuming the Japanese-era neighborhoods known as Wakatake-chō (若竹町 / わかたけちょう), Shinki-chō (新起町 / しんきちょう), Suehiro-chō (末廣町 / すえひろちょう), Kotobuki-chō (壽町 / ことぶきちょう) and Tsukiji-chō (築地町 / つきじちょう).

Today, the shopping district is home to over twenty theaters and thousands of stores and vendors catering to an estimated three million visitors per month. The modern era however hasn’t been all fun and games for Ximen though - In the early 1990s, business in the district declined as there was a shift towards the East District (東區) of the city, where massive department stores were constructed. Lending a hand to the struggling Ximen, the Taipei City Government designated the district as the Ximending Pedestrian Area (西門町商圈行人徒步區), prohibiting vehicles from entering the area on weekends and national holidays. Then, in 1999 (民國88年), the Ximen MRT Station (西門捷運站) opened for service and assisted in bringing the district back to life, offering quick and convenient access.

Unfortunately, the COVID-19 pandemic has proved to be yet another nail to the heart of the shopping district with many vendors forced to shut their doors due to the lack of tourists, shopping and high cost of rent.

Once we put this pandemic behind us, you can be sure that this historic entertainment district will once again make its triumphant return, and all the ‘for rent’ signs we see now will quickly disappear!

Changing so much over the past century, it is surprising, yet heartening that we can still find some historic locations among the constantly changing face of the district’s urban landscape. Given that Ximen was developed during the Japanese-era (1895-1945), it should go without saying that the vast majority of the historic attractions you’ll come across in the area are related to that period of Taiwan’s history.

Some of those historic locations we can enjoy are the Red House Theater (which was recently restored), the Taipei Mazu Temple (台北天后宮), originally a Japanese Buddhist temple (Hong-Fa Temple 弘法寺 / こうぼうでら), Fahua Temple (Hokke-ji / 法華寺 / ほっけじ) and the subject of this article, the Nishi Hongan-ji Park.

Nishi Hongan-ji Temple (西本願寺)

Taking inspiration from Tokyo’s Asakusa District, the Ximending Shopping and Entertainment District was also home to some important places of worship. Just like the ancient Sensō-ji Buddhist Temple (金龍山浅草寺 / せんそうじ) back in Tokyo, Ximen was chosen as the home for the Taiwan Branch of the Nishi Hongan-ji Buddhist Temple (西本願寺台湾別院 / ほんがんじたいわんべついん).

While it certainly wasn’t comparable in size to the ostentatious ‘Buddhist’ temples you’ll find in Taiwan these days, the Nishi Hongan-ji temple was one of Taiwan’s first massive places of worship, when it was completed, it dominated the city’s skyline.

Constructed as the ‘Taiwan Branch’ of Kyoto’s Nishi Hongan-ji temple (西本願寺), the temple was part of the “Pure Land” sect of Buddhist temples, better known as the Jōdo Shinshū (浄土真宗). As one of Japan’s largest Buddhist organizations, the massive Taiwan branch was constructed in an attempt to show the power and prestige of the group and its eagerness to expand its number of followers in the colony.

Links: Nishi Hongan-ji | Jōdo Shinshū (Wiki)

Regarded as a Japanese National Treasure and designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Nishi Hongan-ji Temple in dates back to 1591, and is one of the most widely visited destinations in the historic Japanese capital of Kyoto. Officially known as the “Jodo Shinshu Hongwanji-ha” (淨土真宗本願寺派 / じょうどしんしゅうほんがんじは) sect, there are more than a hundred branches throughout Japan, and the organization has expanded internationally over the years with branches constructed around the world.

As one of the organization’s first overseas branches, the Jodo Shinshu were one of the first Japanese Buddhist organizations to land in Taiwan. Monks were embedded within the ranks of the army and were tasked with comforting soldiers on expedition, taking care of the injured, holding Buddhist funerals for the deceased and escorting their remains back to Japan.

The history of the ‘Taiwan Branch’ got its start in 1897 (明治30年) when the group purchased around 8300㎡ (2500坪) of land in Taipei’s Shinki-chō (新起町 / しんきちょう). A few years later, thanks to a generous grant of 25,000 Yen from the headquarters back in Kyoto, the colonial government approved an application to construct a ‘temporary’ temple complex located near where the park is located today. With plans for a future migration to a permanent home, the temporary location was set up with a Main Hall (本堂), Assembly Hall (集會所) and dormitories for the monks.

The ‘temporary’ situation lasted until the early 1920s, when the colonial government implemented an ambitious urban development plan (市區改正) that re-shaped and modernized the city by improving roads and constructing public works that took care of sanitation and sewage. Given that parts of the temple were located in an area that was slated for the construction of a major road (currently Changsha Street 長沙街), the group purchased an additional plot of land just south of where the new road would be constructed.

Portions of the original temple had to be demolished and reconstructed to comply with the urban development plan, however it was a relatively fortunate situation, as the plot of land originally occupied by the temple connected directly to the new plot.

This meant that they had more space and were were able to move things around, and eventually expand.

In 1922 (大正11年), the Mausoleum (御廟所 /ごびょうしょ), Bell Tower (鐘樓 / しょうろう) and Jushin Assembly Hall (樹心會館 / じゅしんかいかん) were completed. Then, in 1924 (大正13年), the abbot’s official residence (輪番所) was reconstructed. It would take until 1931 (昭和6年) however for the massive Main Hall (本堂 / ほんどう) to officially re-open its doors.

At nearly 1000㎡ (300坪), the Main Hall was constructed on a large reinforced concrete base facing east in the direction of the Governor General’s Office. The upper section of the building, including much of its giant roof was constructed of Taiwanese Red Cypress (紅檜). The interior space of the building featured high-ceiling space and its size was measured in an old style of measurement listed as seven ‘bays’ wide and seven ‘bays’ in length (正面七開間,縱深亦為七開間), which is approximately 31.5 meters in length and width in metric and reached a height of around 76 feet, equal to a seven or eight story building by today’s standards.

In addition to the upper floor space, the concrete base was also functional in that it included space for a library, conference rooms, etc. The interior space on the upper floor was divided into two different sections, the outer section (外陣) and the inner sanctum (內陣) with the outer section occupying the majority of the space featuring large sliding panel doors on the three sides of the front half of the building and a large open space for meditation and worship. The inner sanctum on the other hand would have been home to an area that was cordoned off, accessible only to the monks at the temple with a large shrine against the rear wall.

The architectural design of the Main Hall largely followed that of the Goeidō Hall (御影堂), known in English as the “Founders Hall”, at Kyoto’s Nishi Hongan-ji Temple. Historic photos of the interior of the Taipei temple match up quite well with what we can see today at the historic building in Japan, but more notably, the roof of the building in Taipei was designed to be almost a replica of the original.

One of the saddest things about the loss of this building is that there are few traditional buildings from the Japanese-era that remain in Taiwan which feature a roof as grand as what you would have seen at this temple. The few that come close would be the Tainan Martial Arts Hall, Changhua Martial Arts Hall, or the Taoyuan Shinto Shrine, however none of them were comparable in size, and each of them vary in their architectural design.

Note: It’s important to remember that even though the height of the building was a total of 76 feet, at least three quarters of its total size would have been the roof, which was meant to display the grand nature of the building. The importance of the roof’s architectural design cannot be understated, and it is what made the building so iconic.

Where the building’s roof was similar to many of the other traditional Japanese-style buildings around Taiwan was that it was designed in the ubiquitous irimoya-zukuri (入母造 / いりもやづくり) architectural style. More commonly known as the ‘East Asian hip-and-gable roof’ (歇山), these roofs essentially consist of a ‘hip’ section that slopes down on all four slides and a ‘gable’ section on the opposing sides. Originally taking inspiration from Chinese-style architectural design, the Japanese irimoya style evolved over the centuries and began to take shape as mastery over construction techniques improved.

Links: East Asian hip-and-gable roof (Wiki) | Irimoya-zukuri 入母屋造 (JAANUS)

Post-war photo of the temple dominating the Ximen skyline

The roof at the Taipei temple followed the same irimoya-style hip-and-gable roof as what you’d find at Nishi Hongan-ji back in Kyoto, but as it was a much newer structure, the construction techniques differed slightly. The Taipei temple made use of iron trusses within the interior of the building in addition to the reinforced concrete pillars on the exterior that extended from the base to the roof to help to stabilize it’s massive weight.

Where it remained the same however, and what would make it rare in Taiwan today, was that it featured a very steep slope on the ‘hip’ with ‘hongawarabuki’ (本瓦葺 / ほんかわらぶき) tiles. These tiles, which are a mixture of flat broad concave tiles (平瓦 / hiragawara / ひらがわら) and semi-cylindrical convex tiles (丸瓦 / marugawara / まるがわら) created a visual effect that made the roof look as if it were an incoming tsunami.

I’m sure all these official names don’t make a lot of sense to most people, so to explain it simply, the cylindrical tiles are laid first and looked like giant bamboo trees running down the length of the roof. The flat tiles on the other hand ran horizontally and acted as protective covers for the seams or joints where they met.

At the top of the roof there was a thick ‘oomune’ ridge that ran horizontally along the length of the building decorated with ‘shishiguchi’, or ‘lion-mouth tiles’ on the ends. Running vertically down the roof were similarly decorated ridges known as ‘kudarimune’ and next to them ‘corner’ ridges that are split into two sections referred to as ‘sumimune’ and ‘chigomune’ on the end. Finally, on the ends of each of the triangular gable sections you’d find beautifully decorated gegyo (懸魚 / げぎょ) ‘hanging fish’ wooden boards, used as a charm against fire, similar to porcelain dragons on Taiwanese temples.

Once again, you’re being inundated with a bunch of technical terms, so I’ll provide a diagram blow that points to each of the functional and decorative aspects of the roof just mentioned:

  1. oomune (大棟 / おおむね) - the ridge that runs along the top of the roof.

  2. shishiguchi (獅子口 / ししくち) - decorative ‘lions-mouth’ elements on the edges of the ridge.

  3. kudarimune (降棟 / くだるむね) - a ridge that descends vertically from the top ridge.

  4. sumimune (隅棟 / すみむね) - a corner ridge that connects to the gable.

  5. chigomune (稚児棟 / ちごむね) - the end of the corner ridge, decorated with shishiguchi (2).

  6. marugawara (丸瓦 / まるがわら) - semi-cylindrical convex roof tiles that look like bamboo.

  7. hiragawara (平瓦 / ひらがわら) - flat roof tiles that lie between the marugawara (6).

Sadly, after the war, the temple complex was used for a variety of purposes, which prior to the ‘February 28th Incident’ was occupied by the infamous Garrison Command, which rounded up political prisoners and took them to the temple for interrogation, imprisonment, or worse. Later, it was used as housing for a merry-go-round of refugees who came to Taiwan with the Chinese Nationalists. The number of people coming and going from the temple became a precarious issue and ultimately, the grounds became home to illegal squatters, which left it in pretty terrible shape, before it caught fire and burnt to the ground in 1975 (民國64).

After much of what once existed was destroyed, the grounds became home to even more illegal squatters, who set up their own little village of tin-sheeted houses (鐵皮屋), something that was highly frowned upon by the government, especially in one of the city’s most important districts.

And that ladies and gentlemen is where I’m going to move on to the current situation regarding the Nishi Hongan-ji Relics Park!

Nishi Hongan-ji Relics Park (西本願寺廣場)

The historic and cultural value of the grounds were largely ignored until the city had enough of the eyesore next to one of its most important shopping and business districts. In 2006 (民國95年), an urban renewal initiative that sought to knock down the illegal squatter village simultaneously recognized what little remained of the temple as a Protected City-Level Monument (市定古蹟). By 2011 (民國100年), the remaining residents on the grounds were relocated, and a project to convert the grounds into an urban green park, with restoration on the few remaining temple structures were set to be the main attraction.

Restoration of the buildings and the space were officially completed in 2014 (民國103年), and a breath of life was brought back to the historic grounds, reborn as ‘Nishi Hongan-ji Square’ (西本願寺廣場), a multi-purpose park and cultural space gifted to the residents of Taipei.

Unfortunately, it goes without saying that much of what once existed on the grounds has become a distant memory as the various fires over the decades left the majority of once existed in ruins. Lost from the original temple are the Main Hall (本堂), the Mausoleum (御廟所), the Administration Building (庫裏), the Sanmon Gate (山門 / さんもん), and the monks dormitories. What was able to be saved however are the beautiful Bell Tower (鐘樓), the Jushin Assembly Hall (樹心會館), the Abbot’s Residence (輪番所), and the concrete base of the Main Hall.

Below, I’ll briefly introduce each of the remaining pieces of the temple individually, and the purpose they serve today as park of the urban culture park.

Bell Tower (鐘樓 / しょうろう)

The Bell Tower, an integral part of a Japanese Buddhist temple was located within the interior of the complex, just past where the Main Gate (山門) once stood. Coincidentally, once of the smallest parts of the original temple, the Bell Tower today serves as the park’s main attraction. Despite not burning down with many of the other sections of the original temple, the original Bell Tower met with a similar fate as the village of squatters more or less just built around the original base of the tower, consuming it into their village.

Completely reconstructed based on the design of the original, the Bell Tower today features a massive Bonshō bell (梵鐘 / ぼんしょう) housed within what is known in Japan as the “shōrō” (しょうろう). Japanese-style Bell Towers typically fall into two different styles of architectural design, both of which can still be enjoyed in Taipei today - The first type is the most traditional variety known as “hakamagoshi” (褲腰), typically a walled two-storey hour-glass shaped building with the bell located on the second floor. This type can be viewed at the nearby at the historic Soto Zen Daihonzai Temple (曹洞宗大本山別院) as well as the Chin'nanzan Gokoku-ji Temple (鎮南護山國禪寺), each of which are only a few stops away on the MRT.

The second type is considered a ‘newer’ (13th century “new”) variety known as “fukihanachi“ (吹放ち), which is essentially an open structure with no walls, and a bell hanging in the middle.

Within both of these architectural styles, the common feature is that they are typically adorned with a beautiful Japanese-style gabled (切妻造) or hip-and-gable (入母屋造) rooftop. In the case of this Bell Tower, the roof is absolutely beautiful and has to be enjoyed close up. The restoration team obviously spared no effort in ensuring that the roof of the bell tower remained faithful to the original and took special care to have Japanese experts assist in the construction process.

The four sided hip-and-gable roof of the tower features a sloping roof with triangular ‘tsuma’ (妻 / つま) on each of the gable-ends. Designed and decorated similarly to the roof of the former Main Hall, the roof consists of many of the decorative elements mentioned above - What you’ll want to pay the most attention to however are the amazing carpentry skills that make up the network of support trusses within the roof. Working together with the four pillars that connect to its cement base, the trusses are both functional as well as beautiful in their decorative designs.

Bell Towers serve both practical and symbolic purposes as they are thought to have the power to 'awaken people from the daze of everyday life and the pursuit of worldly things like fame and fortune’ and the daily ringing of the bells is a reminder to people of all walks of life to slow down and enjoy life. Even though the Bell Tower serves as a reminder of the beautiful temple that once occupied this space, the bell is only rung on special occasions.

Jushin Assembly Hall  (樹心會館)

Dating back to 1923 (大正12年), the Jushin Assembly Hall (樹心會館) was an interesting addition to the temple complex. The ’T-shaped’ Japanese-Western fusion building was constructed with a mixture of brick and wood and features a Japanese-style roof and a ‘karamon’ (唐門 / からもん) entrance. The interior of the building however is considered western-style and was meant to show off the ‘modernity of the era’ (表現新時代精神), with it’s open space and western-style roof trusses. The brick building features quite a few large windows, allowing for considerable amount of natural light in the building during the day, which helps the iconic Taiwan Renga (台灣煉瓦株式會社) red bricks to shine.

Originally used as a space to educate visitors in Buddhist doctrine, the building today is operated by the Taipei City Department of Cultural Affairs and is used as an exhibition and event space. Unfortunately, the space isn’t always open to the public, so if you visit, you may not be able to explore the interior of the building.

Abbot’s Residence (輪番所)

The former Abbot’s Residence is a simple Japanese-style wooden residential-style dormitory that was elevated off of the ground on a cement base. Similar to many of the other Japanese-era houses that I’ve written about over the years, the house was beautifully restored by the city government and the exterior features recently planted cherry trees along the walkway to its entrance that bloom in the winter.

While the residence is ‘technically’ open to the public, it is currently occupied by the ‘Eighty-Eightea Rinbansyo’ (八拾捌茶輪番所), a popular tea house that promotes Taiwanese tea. Despite being a popular destination for Instagrammers, the interior of the building has some pretty strict guidelines with regard to photography, and more or less only allows people with smart phones to take photos, unless a permit is applied for beforehand.

The leasing of the building to the tea shop is part of a government effort to make use of these historic buildings for commercial purposes, recouping some of the public funds used for the restoration of the park - something which I’ve written about in the past.

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

In the future, I’ll likely write a dedicated article about the Abbot’s Residence and the Tea House that occupies the space today, but it’s one of those experiences that I’ll have to plan long in advance in order to be able to take proper photos within the historic residence.

Link: Eighty-Eightea (八拾捌茶)

Open Daily from 11:30 - 6:00pm

Base of the Main Hall (本堂臺座)

Taipei 101 might be one of the most iconic structures in the modern capital of Taiwan, but its safe to say that the original Main Hall of this temple (in addition to a few others) were the Japanese-era equivalent. The historic photos of the building that you can see above are an important reminder of the once iconic building that dominated the city’s skyline.

Even though the building was destroyed, the Taipei City Government restored the reinforced concrete base of the building to ensure that its memory can be enjoyed for years to come. The base, which was restored and renovated along with the rest of the park is currently home to the Taipei City Archives (臺北市立文獻館), and features some important historic exhibitions where you learn about the city’s history. The stairs of the base are likewise a pretty popular spot for residents of the city to relax, enjoy their lunch, or chat with friends.

The City Archives are open to the public Monday to Friday from 9:00am - 5:00pm.

Entry is Free of Charge

Getting There

 

Address: #174-176 Zhonghua Road, Section 1, Wanhua District, Taipei City

(臺北市萬華區中華路1段174-176號)

GPS: (25.040200, 121.507290)

Located a short distance from Taipei’s popular Ximending (西門町) shopping district, the Nishi Hongan-ji Square is a beautiful natural space that highlights the history of the Ximen area. Given that it is within walking distance of not only the shopping district, but all of the other historic and cultural attractions in the area, a visit to the park is one that won’t take too much time out of your day.

Conveniently located just south of Ximen’s MRT station, getting there is pretty simple.

Due to its proximity to the MRT Station, I’m not going to provide information for anyone driving a car this time.

If you’ve got a car, simply input the address provided above and you’ll be able to map out your route pretty easily. That being said, the Ximen area is one of the busiest and hippest parts of town, so parking your car nearby can be both frustrating and expensive. I highly recommend you just park it elsewhere and make use of the city’s excellent public transportation, instead.

MRT

The easiest and probably the most convenient way to get to the area is to make use of Taipei’s excellent MRT network. The Nishi Hongan-ji Relic Square is located a three or four minute walk from Ximen Station (西門站) on the network’s Blue Bannan Line (板南線). Once you’ve arrived at the station, you’ll want to take Exit 1 (1號出口) and walk south on either Zhonghua Road (中華路) or Hanzhong Road (漢中路), where you’ll also see the iconic Ximen Red Building (西門紅樓).

Bus

In addition to the MRT, Taipei’s Public Bus network is also pretty useful, especially if you’re coming from an area where you’d have to transfer trains a few times. The most convenient bus stop is located next to Ximen Station, which has almost two dozen different bus routes coming from all over the city. With so many buses, it’s difficult to link to all of them, so below, I’ll provide a list of the routes that are serviced by the Ximen Station Bus Stop. I highly recommend travelers make use of the Taipei eBus website, or download the Bus Tracker Taipei app on your phone (Android | iOS) or use the Real-Time Bus Tracking service offered on the eBus website.

Here are the following routes that service the station: #9, #12, #49, #202, #205, #206, #212, #232, #246, #249, #250, #252, #253, #260, #262, #304, #307, #310, #604, #624, #660, #667, #662, #667

Similar to the MRT above, the park is a short walk from the MRT Station and Bus Stops.

Youbike

If you find yourself riding around town on one of Taipei’s shared bicycles, you’ll be happy to know that there is a Youbike docking station conveniently located next to the park. You can simply dock your bike there when you arrive and get another one when you leave.

Despite what little remains today of one of Taipei’s most elegant Japanese-era temples, the park offers a fitting memorial to what once stood on the grounds, and the usage of space, whether its the museum, tea house, bell tower or the exhibition space, was carefully considered. While it’s highly unlikely that the historic temple will ever be reconstructed, the park remains a pretty cool natural space within one of the hippest parts of the city and offers a nice respite from the hectic shopping areas of Ximen.

There is a long list of public events that take place in the park throughout the year, so if you’re visiting for the first time, you can enjoy the beauty of the bell tower and learn about the city’s history in the museum. For those of us lucky enough to live in Taiwan on a long-term basis, the park is an excellent place to visit throughout the year, depending on what exhibitions or events are taking place.


Kishu An (紀州庵文學森林)

When we were still living in a world where we were able to travel freely, Taiwan and Japan shared a pretty amazing two-way relationship with a very high percentage of tourists from each nation visiting the other. For the tourists of both nations, a flight to either Japan or Taiwan is a short one, but upon arrival there’s this familiar feeling that you find yourself among friends, which is a pretty great way to travel. 

Given the size difference between the two nations, there is obviously a lot more for Taiwanese tourists to do when visiting Japan, but for the Japanese tourists visiting Taiwan, there’s a high level of respect for Taiwan’s natural beauty, traditional culture, cuisine and the many similarities that the two nations share.

That being said, Taiwan’s amazing food scene has always been overshadowed by its eastern neighbor as Japanese cuisine is one of the stand outs on the map of the world’s best cuisines. Interestingly though, when Japanese tourists travel to Taiwan they have a bit of a secret that they don’t really share with others.

They’re often happiest when they’re eating Japanese food.

Taiwan is quite unique as it is one of the few places in the world where you’re able to find Japanese food that is just as good as (or better than) what you’ll find in Japan. One of the key differences is the price difference between the two countries.

You can literally eat like a king in Taiwan, for much less compared to prices back in Japan - So if you’re looking for teppanyaki, yakiniku, yakitori, shabu shabu, ramen, tempura or sushi, you’ll discover that you have some pretty amazing options, no matter where you are in Taiwan. 

For most Japanese tourists the secret to Japanese dining in Taiwan is all about the omakase-style (お任せ) dining and the fresh sushi. Not only are these experiences considerably cheaper here in Taiwan, it’s also exceptionally well-made and a high percentage of Taiwan’s Michelin-rated restaurants are sushi places, such as Sushi Amamoto (鮨天本), Kitcho (吉兆割烹壽司), Sushi Nomura (鮨野村), Sushi Akira (明壽司), etc. 

Link List of Michelin starred restaurants in Taipei (Wiki)

This set-menu and intimate style of dining has become extremely popular over the past decade and as these restaurants continue to achieve international notoriety, reservations have become much more exclusive. However, what we consider an ‘expensive’ dining experience here in Taiwan is still by comparison quite affordable for Japanese diners. 

As an outsider, I’ve always found it interesting watching friends here in Taiwan planning their trips with a primary focus on where they’ll eat and drink, while my Japanese friends have essentially spent the same amount of time doing the exact same thing before coming to Taiwan.

Given the historic links between the two nations, I suppose it shouldn’t be much of a surprise - There is obviously a reason why Japanese food is so good here in Taiwan, and much of that is owed to the fifty year period of Japan’s colonial control of the island.

As I’m sure most of you have already noticed, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time over the past few years visiting and researching buildings that date back to the Japanese era, ranging from civic buildings, Martial Arts Halls, Buddhist Temples, Shinto Shrines, train stations, etc.

When it comes these historic buildings, one area where we are sadly lacking these days are the restaurants that helped to ignite the Taiwanese love affair with Japanese cuisine. Unfortunately, it’s quite rare that any of the historic restaurants constructed during the Japanese-era have lasted this long, and it’s even rarer to see them recognized as a cultural heritage building.

A few years back I introduced the beautiful Hsinchu Lakeside Ryotei (湖畔料亭), a beautiful Japanese-era restaurant located within what we know today as Hsinchu Park (新竹公園). This time, I’ll be following up with another historic riverside restaurant in Taipei, which has recently become of the city’s most popular Instagram locations in recent months. 

Known today as the ‘Kishu-An Forest of Literature’, the former riverside restaurant was once one of Taipei’s most popular restaurants, and similar to those Michelin starred set-menu dining restaurants popular in the city today, was one of the most hottest tickets in town.  

Kishu-an Ryotei (紀州庵料亭 / きしゅうあんりょうてい)

When the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895 (明治28年), most of the island had yet to really be developed in any meaningful way. Yet, with a rudimentary railroad set up between Keelung in Hsinchu by the previous regime, Taiwan’s new rulers worked quickly to ensure an efficient and smoother take over.

Within the first decade of Japanese rule, an almost unimaginable amount of development took place around the island with roads, railways and the construction of public works and administrative buildings sprouting up and helping to form the basis of the major cities that we know and love today.

The first few years of Japanese colonial control however were considered the harshest as the military cross-crossed the island pacifying areas that had never been under any centralized authority, and in the process putting down any opposition to their rule.

With plans to continue developing the island, the colonial government started promoting immigration and by 1897 (明治30年) they had already set up financial incentives for Japanese citizens to emigrate to the island to help contribute to its development, set up businesses and assist in the ‘Japanization’ of the island.

One of those families was the Hiramatsu family (平松) from Japan’s Wakayama Prefecture (和歌山縣), just south of Osaka on the eastern coast of the country.

In 1897, Tokumatsu Hiramatsu (平松德松) opened a restaurant in the Seimonchō (西門町 / せいもんちょう) of the capital of Taihoku. Located directly opposite the Hokkeji Temple (法華寺 / ほっけじ), the restaurant was named after Wakayama’s feudal name, ‘Kishu’ (紀州藩 / きしゅうはん) with the Character “庵“ (あん) replacing “藩” (はん), a play on words that changed the pronunciation of “Kishu-han” (the name of the feudal domain) to “Kishu-an” (literally: Kishu retreat). 

As the number of the Japanese citizens immigrating to Taiwan grew, Hiramatsu’s business continued to boom, so in 1917, the family opened a branch in the growing Kawabatacho district (川端町 / かわばたちょう), along the banks of the Xindian River (新店溪). Known for its beautiful riverside and as well as for the chrysanthemums that grew there, the area had become a popular one with the Japanese residents of the city as it became home to hip tea houses and a number of ryotei (料亭), including the famed Kawayashiki (川屋敷 / かわやしき), Shinchaya (新茶屋 / しんちゃや) and Seiryotei (清涼亭 / せいりょうてい) restaurants. 

Note: Original address for the restaurant was Kawabatacho #448 (川瑞町448番地)

The term “ryotei” (料亭 / りょうてい), which literally translates as “food pavilion” is a traditional and somewhat exclusive style of Japanese dining. In the past, ryotei weren’t open to the public in the way that most restaurants are, and new customers more or less had to be referred or introduced in order to be able to visit.  Known for their exclusivity and high class style of dining, they’re often used for important business or political meetings held in private rooms. 

Most often employing the ‘kaiseki’ (懐石料理 / かいせき) style of dining, a meal at a restaurant like this would have been a multi-course experience that employed a number of cooking techniques. Known more simply these days as a set menu (セット), a meal at Kishu-an would have consisted of an elaborate fifteen course menu served by Geisha, who would also provide entertainment. 

Link: Ryotei (Japanese style restaurant)

Similar to the Michelin-rated omakase restaurants (おまかせ) in Taipei today, reservations for a Kishu-an, or any of the other ryotei mentioned above, would have been hard to come by, and a meal there would have been an expensive experience reserved only for special occasions. 

Initially, the river branch of Kishu-an was a traditionally designed Japanese style building, but as business thrived, plans for an elaborate expansion were made in order to compete with the other ryotei nearby.

In 1927 (昭和2年), construction on a three-floor building was started that once completed would allow guests to overlook the river next to a traditional Japanese garden (日式庭園).

Completed the following year, the meticulously constructed building made use of the banyan trees (榕樹) that were felled to make way for the expansion.

Once completed, Kishu-an consisted of the main three-floor building (本館), an annex (離屋), and a garden in addition to riverside facilities for guests to make the most of their experience which included river boats, fishing, and other activities to enjoy nature.

Said to be comparable to the riverside dining experience back in Kyoto (京都), residents of Taihoku relished the opportunity to visit the riverside to enjoy the chrysanthemums during the day and fireflies at night almost as much as the residents of Taipei today enjoy riding along the beautiful bicycling path.

One is left to wonder what happened to both the flowers and the fireflies?

Business continued to thrive at Kishu-an for the next decade, but when war broke out in the Pacific and Taiwan was targeted by allied bombing campaigns, the Governor General’s office issued emergency directives that restricted ‘entertainment’ venues in order to help maintain public safety as well as to mobilize infrastructure to care for anyone injured during an attack.

With business operations shut down, Kishu-an was for a time used by the Japanese army as a temporary medical facility as it was close enough to the Southern Taipei Airport (臺北南飛行場) that it could easily tend to anyone wounded by an attack. 

Link: Nanjichang Community (南機場社區)

If it weren’t already fairly obvious, the war didn’t really end in Japan’s favor, so when the empire was forced to relinquish its control over Taiwan, the Hiramatsu family, like so many others who had lived in Taiwan for the better part of half a century, were forced to get on a boat and were repatriated back to their homeland. 

In the aftermath of the war, Kishu-an was appropriated by the Taiwan Provincial Cooperative Business Administration Office (台灣省合作事業管理處宿舍), which used it for employee housing.

In 1945, an eight year old Wang Wen-hsing (王文興) would take up residence within the building with his family, who lived there for the next three decades.

When the Chinese Nationalists retreated to Taiwan in 1949, bringing with them several million Chinese refugees, the island experienced a period of crisis with regard to housing as the refugees became squatters in any space that provided a roof over their heads. Kishu-an became one of those safe havens, and famed author Wang Wen-hsing commented that by the time he and his family vacated their residence in the late 1970s, more than two-hundred families had taken up residence within the building. 

The natural beauty of the riverside that the residents of Kawabatacho district (currently Zhongzheng District 中正區) enjoyed came to an abrupt end in the 1970s when the government constructed the Huanhe North-South Expressway (環河南北快速道路) parallel to the river. 

On the list of Taipei’s most important infrastructure projects in recent memory, construction of the expressway was one that had almost unanimous support among the residents of the city, frustrated with constant traffic congestion, which at the time still had to contend with above ground trains making their way through the city.

Once completed, the five-kilometer elevated expressway alleviated some of the city’s issues, but created a barrier between the riverside and the recreation area that was once a popular riverside tourist attraction.

Then, in 1994, disaster stuck when a fire broke out late in the afternoon on May 6th, killing one of the residents and resulting in the destruction of the main building. In the aftermath of the fire, residents were forced to find alternative accommodations and only those who lived in the annex building remained.

The state of the building, and the swampy grounds caused a headache for the city government over the next few years with plans drawn up to have the whole thing torn down and turned into a parking lot. 

A breeding ground for mosquitos, and fears of a possible dengue fever outbreak in the area, the city government was keen on evicting the remaining residents as quickly as possible and having what little remained of Kishu-an leveled. Fortunately, civic groups took action and after years of back and forth negotiations, the government capitulated and officially recognized the former restaurant as a protected heritage building (臺北市定古蹟). With official protection, the government was then tasked with coming up with a plan for its restoration, requiring a certain amount of public funds being allocated for the project. 

Several teams of researchers visited the site and after consultations, they reported that it would take an estimated twenty-four million dollars (One million USD) to complete a reconstruction and restoration project.

The reconstruction of the original building however became an issue as there weren’t enough photos, or blueprints that’d allow them to faithfully complete a replication of the original.

After several years of research, as well as negotiations with the residents of the building, a financial package was agreed on for the relocation of the residents as well as for the restoration of the annex building, with plans to reconstruct the main building abandoned.  

Starting in 2013, the restoration project was completed within a year and Kishu-an reopened to the public as the Kishu-an Forest of Literature (紀州庵文學森林), a culture park dedicated to promoting the nation’s literary history. The restoration project was so thoughtfully undertaken that they were able to retain over seventy percent of the original materials dating back more than a century.

With the annex building restored and a beautiful green park to go with it, the city government constructed a cultural centre on the grounds. Featuring a tea-house, library and space for public lectures, exhibitions and art space, the newly constructed building is where the vast majority of the culture park’s events take place, while the historic annex building allows visitors to enjoy the beauty of the historic restaurant. 

To celebrate the re-opening of Kishu-an, Ki­ichiro Hi­ra­ma­tsu (平松喜一郎), the Taiwan-born son of To­ku­ma­tsu Hi­ra­ma­tsu was invited to return to Taiwan to see home of his youth brought back to life in a modern Taiwan. 

Before introducing the architectural design of the annex building, I’ll provide a timeline of events at Kishu-an over the past 120 years: 

Kishu-an Timeline

  • 1897 (明治30年) - The Hiramatsu (平松) family from Wakayama Prefecture (和歌山縣 / わかやまけん) immigrates to Taiwan and opens ‘Kishu-an’ in Ximending (西門町 / せいもんちょう).

  • 1917 (大正7年)- The Hiramatsu family expands with a branch of Kishu-an along the banks of the Xindian River in Taihoku’s Kawabatacho district (川端町 / かわばたちょう).

  • 1927 (昭和2年) - Construction on a three-story expansion of the restaurant starts.

  • 1940 (昭和15年) - The original Kishu-an in Ximending closes and the business is primarily focused on the riverside branch.

  • 1943-1944 - Business operations are shut down due to the ongoing war and the restaurant is used to assist the injured given the close proximity to Taihoku’s Southern Airport (臺北南飛行場).

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The buildings become dormitories for the Taiwan Provincial Cooperative Business Administration Office (台灣省合作事業管理處宿舍). One of the residents of the building is eight year old Wang Wen-hsing (王文興).

  • 1949 (民國38年) - The Chinese Nationalist Government relocates to Taiwan and Kishu-an becomes housing for a dozen families.

  • 1978 (民國67年) - Wang Wen-hsing now in his thirties moves out of Kishu-an and remarks that by then more than two hundred families had lived in the building.

  • 1994 (民國83年) - In the late afternoon on May 6th, a fire breaks out in the main building of Kishu-an destroying most of the building and killing a 31 year old disabled man.

  • 2003 (民國92年) - With plans to demolish what little remained of Kishu-an, a group of civic activists came to the rescue of the historic building and started a campaign to lobby the government to restore the building.

  • 2003 (民國92年) - On November 21st, the Taipei City government officially designates Kishu-an as a protected historic site.

  • 2011 (民國100年) - The last residents of Kishu-an move out after a relocation package is approved by the government.

  • 2013 (民國102年) - Restoration on the remaining annex building starts.

  • 2014 (民國103年) - On May 24th, the Kishu-an Forest of Literature officially opens.

Architectural Design

Given the beauty of Kishu-an, and its popularity as a tourist attraction, you’d be excused for assuming that it should be relatively easy to find detailed information regarding its architectural design. Unfortunately that’s not really the case - Save for some very detailed descriptions of the history of the building, you’ll discover that there is actually very little information about its elaborate design.

Never fear, I’ve got you covered. 

As mentioned above, Kishu-an originally consisted of a main three-floor building (本館) with an annex (離屋) connected via a passage-way between the two buildings. Located just outside the annex you would have found a beautiful Japanese-style garden with another annex building (別館) on other side.

Unfortunately both the main building and the detached annex building were destroyed by fire in the 1990s, leaving only one of the original three structures standing today.

The annex building that remains standing was historically the area of the restaurant reserved for much larger banquets or receptions, with a capacity for just over ninety guests. The rectangular-shaped building is quite long and is separated into five rooms through a network of sliding doors.

If you were looking at the building from the top down, essentially what you’d see are two rectangular shaped sections, the outer ’hisashi’ (廂 / ひさし) and the central area, known as the ‘omoya’ (主屋 / おもや).

But what does any of that actually mean?  

The central section of the building is known as the “omoya” (主屋), and it officially consists of a total interior space of sixty tatami mats (疊榻榻 / たたみ). If the sliding doors were closed into five separate rooms, each of the rooms would have been an equal twelve mats in size.

Note: 1.0 tatami (畳) = 1.5㎡ = 16.5ft² = 0.45375 Taiwanese ping (坪) 

In metric terms, what this means is that the interior space of the central room is 100㎡, with each room divided evenly into 20㎡ in size. That being said, the network of sliding doors was set up in a way that made it easy to arrange for larger rooms to accommodate for larger banquets. 

Surrounding the omoya on all four sides of the building, you’ll find traditional corridors or passageways known in Japan as ‘hisashi’. In this case however the corridors appear a bit different on each side - The front side of the building features the main entrance, and for the most part is one of the more ‘solid’ sections save for a relatively small sliding glass door ‘engawa’ (縁側 /えんがわ) veranda that would have overlooked a garden at the front.

To the direct left of the main entrance on the east side of the building you would have found the guest washrooms in addition to what was likely a room reserved for staff at the restaurant. The opposite western end on the other hand would have been where you would have found the corridor that connected the annex to the main building. Today a section of that corridor still exists and is an excellent reading space!

The southern side of the building is where the architectural design of Kishu-an really stands out as the entire side is one giant sliding glass-door veranda like the one mentioned above that stretches from one end of the building to the other. During the Japanese-era this section of the building would have overlooked the Japanese garden, and allowed guests to leave the building and enjoy the beauty of the grounds and the nearby river. Historic photos show that this section was just as beautiful a century ago as it is today, save for the fact that all of the trees and greenery planted by the Hiramatsu’s have grown into a beautiful natural space. 

In terms of the architectural style of the building, it was constructed with a combination of styles with the base, exterior and roof of the building following the irimoya-zukuri syle (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり), one of the most common of Japanese architectural designs. The interior of the building however follows a rather unique style of design among the remaining Japanese-era buildings in Taiwan today. 

Making use of Shoin-zukuri (書院造建築 / しょいんづくり), a style of architectural design that is typically reserved for mansions, temple guest halls, etc. Over the years, this simple zen-like style of interior design became informally incorporated into teahouses as elegant spaces for formal banquets or dinners. So it only made sense that ryotei like Kishu-an would follow suit.

Link: Shoin-zukuri (Wiki) 

Literally referred to as the ‘study hall’ (書院造) style of design, a building designed in this style is characterized by wall-to-wall tatami mats with sliding doors acting as the walls between the room and the outside corridors. Within the room you’d also find square beveled pillars and ‘shouji’ (障子 / しょうじ) sliding doors, allowing the space to be divided into various sections based on necessity.

Given the elegant nature of the building, the sliding shouji doors were constructed with beautiful displays of latticework within the wooden frames that were not only beautiful, but also functional in that they allowed for fresh air to travel from outside into the rooms. 

Completing the shoin-zukuri style you’ll find a tokonoma (床之間 / とこのま) alcove at the far end of the building, which would have been used to display ‘okimono’ (置物 / おきもの) or art, ornaments, flowers, etc.

Above the alcove today you’ll find a beautiful calligraphy painting with the words ‘Kishu-an’ (紀州庵).

Looking at the interior of the building, you might wonder how it’s possible that the whole thing doesn’t just implode from the weight of the roof but this is part of the genius of the open design of a shoin-zukuri style building. What you’ll want to take note of while in the main room are the large pillars pillars on each side of the dividers. These pillars help to form a network that stabilizes the entire structure with the help of trusses within the ceiling that connect directly to the pillars. Working together with the cement base, and pillars on the exterior of the building that allow the building to remain elevated above the ground, the entire system is exceptionally stable which has allowed it to remain standing for well over a century of wear and tear.  

Adding to the structural stability of the building, builders made use of ‘bamboo mud walls’ (編竹夾泥牆) to reinforce and insulate the building. This construction method was similar to what was used back in Japan, but considering how bamboo was both cheap and abundant in Taiwan, the style was modified to form a lattice, which turns out to be quite reliable as a building material.

When you visit Kishu-an today you can see an area in the wall where they put the bamboo lattice on display in order to better understand how it was used. 

Link: Bamboo Mud Wall (Wiki)

Finally, as an ‘irimoya’ style building, the base of the building, known as the moya (母屋 / もや), is slightly smaller than the hip-and-gable roof that eclipses the base. In this case though, the roof isn’t as decorative as what you’d find on a Shinto Shrine or a Buddhist temple - It is essentially shaped like an ‘open book' or the Chinese character “入“ with a gable pediments on the ridge and a hipped roof on the lower parts. The roof is dual-layered with a lower section that ensures that rain water falls a safe distance from the verandas into drains near the base.

The Kishu An Forest of Literature (紀州庵文學森林)

The Kishu An Forest of Literature (紀州庵文學森林) is located within the recently restored annex, or the aptly named “New Building” (新館), which once connected directly to the main part of the restaurant prior to it burning to the ground. 

Part of a newly established culture park with a focus on Taiwan’s literary history, the historic building is used as a tourist attraction and an exhibition space in conjunction with the newly constructed library and tea house located next door. 

While not exactly related, the literature park goes hand-in-hand with the recently restored Japanese-era Qidong Street Dorms in central Taipei, known as the Taiwan Literature Base (臺灣文學基地) in that both culture parks celebrate Taiwan’s literary history, and aim to help cultivate future superstars. 

In this case, the Kishu-An Forest of Literature is operated by the Taiwan Association for Literature Development (台灣文學發展基金會), and is in a strategic area considered to be the cradle of the literary scene in the capital. Home to two universities and publishing houses located on Tong’an Street (同安街), Xiamen Street (廈門街) and Kinmen Street (金門街) as well as the Blue Star Club (藍星詩社) and the Chinese Literature and Arts Association (中國文藝協會), the neighborhood was a pretty hip place in post-war Taiwan.

Most notably however, famous novelist Wang Wen-hsing (王文興) was once one of the tenants of Kishu-An after the war, and scenes in his novel ‘Family Catastrophe’ (家變) are set within the building.

Located next to the historic annex, you’ll find a newly constructed library and tea house which celebrates the history of the building’s past by providing tea and set dinner menus and from what I’ve seen the food looks pretty good, despite being quite different than what would have appeared on plates in the restaurant almost a century ago. Feel free to check the (Chinese-language only) link below to see some of the food and tea offerings available at the tea house. 

Link: 紀州庵文學森林風格茶館 (Kishu-An Teahouse)

While visiting the annex building today you’ll be required to remove your shoes to gain access, but once inside you’ll be able to walk around and enjoy the beauty of this extravagant Japanese-era building.

Photography within the building is permitted, but tripods aren’t as they could damage the floor.

Likewise if you’re planning a professional shoot and want to bring a model or cosplayers, you’ll have to apply for a permit beforehand.

Link: 攝影申請 (Online Photography Permit Application)

Given that the interior of the building is home to an exhibition space, what you’ll experience within the main section is likely to change on a regular basis. The rest of the building however remains the same with a room reserved to tell the history of the restaurant with informative displays and historic photos. 

For a full experience, you’ll probably want to visit the historic building as well as the newly constructed library and the tea house, but to tell the truth, I only visited the historic section of the park to take photos of the building. Visiting during a time when COVID was spreading around the capital, I took a look inside the full library building and decided against going in to check it out.

If you visit, I hope you have a chance to visit at a time when the situation is a bit more stable. 

Hours: Tuesday - Sunday from 10:00-18:00 

(Closed on Mondays and National Holidays)

Official Website: 紀州庵文學森林 | Facebook 

Getting There

 

Address: (台北市中正區同安街115號及109巷4弄6號)

GPS: 25.024340, 121.522440

Getting to the Kishu-An Forest of Literature Park is pretty convenient given Taipei’s excellent public transportation network. Whether you’re taking a bus, subway or Youbike, you shouldn’t have any problems getting there. Likewise, with a car park located to the rear of the building, and scooter spaces outside the front entrance, if you’ve got your own wheels you shouldn’t have much trouble finding a space. 

If you’re in a car, I recommend you instead search for the Tong’An Street Parking Lot (同安街平面停車場) and mapping out your route from there. Parking is 20NT per hour, but spaces are pretty limited so you might have to wait a while, or find another option further away. 

Car / Scooter 

To get to the park, I highly recommend inputting the address or coordinates provided above into your GPS or Google Maps to map out your route. If you’re driving a scooter, you should easily find a parking space along Tong’an Street. If you’re driving a car however, I recommend trying to find a spot in the parking lot mentioned above, although spaces are limited.

Taipei MRT

Kishu-an is located closest to Guting Station (古亭捷運站) on the Green Line (松山新店線), and is about an eight-minute walk from the station (600 meters). To get there you’ll want to leave from Exit 2 (2號出口) and walk straight down Tong’an Road (同安路) until you arrive at the park. 

Bus

There are two bus stops located near Kishu-an that you’ll be able to make use of if you’re planning on taking public transportation to the area, both of which are located near schools on Dingzhou Road (汀州路). 

  1. Qiangshu High School Bus Stop (強恕中學站): Bus #253, 297, 673

  2. Heti Elementary School Bus Stop (河堤國小站): Bus #297. 671, 673

Both stops are located close to Tong’an Street and are a short walk away from Kishu-an.

Click the links on the bus numbers above for real time bus schedules. 

Youbike 

Conveniently located next to Kishu-An, you’ll find a Youbike Station to park a bike - The park is next to the Taipei Riverside Bikeway and is close to the Taipei City Hakka Cultural Park (台北市客家文化主題公園), so getting there should be quite easy no matter where you’re traveling from in Taipei.

Simply input the address or GPS coordinates located above into Google Maps and you’ll have your route mapped out for you. 

Once an upscale fine dining restaurant, it would be an understatement to say that the years haven’t been all that kind to Kishu-an. Its recent revival and restoration however have allowed this beautiful historic building to once again serve the people of Taipei as a tourist attraction and a hip location to learn a bit about the literary history of Taipei, and Taiwan. Let’s face it though, having become a hot Instagram photo location, the majority of visitors to Kishu-an these days mostly consists of young people coming to enjoy a bit of their city’s history, as well as to take photos in this beautiful building with its natural surroundings.

A visit to Kishu-an won’t take much time, and if you’re already riding through the city’s riverside park, I highly recommend stopping by.

Unfortunately, for foreign tourists, most of the literary events planned for Kishu-an aren’t as English-language friendly as those at the Qidong Street Dorms. I do recommend checking the Facebook page linked above before any visit, so you’ll have a better idea of what’s going on. 

References

  1. The Kishu An Forest of Literature | 紀州庵文學森林 (Travel Taipei)

  2. Kishu An Forest of Literature (Ministry of Culture)

  3. Witness to Riverside History—Kishu An | 城南新水岸紀事──紀州庵 (Taiwan Panorama)

  4. 紀州庵 (Wiki)

  5. 臺北市直轄市定古蹟列表 (Wiki)

  6. 紀州庵文學森林 (台北文化局)

  7. 紀州庵 (國家文化資產處)

  8. 台北市定古蹟紀州庵 (中央研究院科學研究中心地理資訊科學研究專題中心)

  9. 紀州庵文學森林作家私房菜 故事加人情調味,品嚐作家的款待 (微笑台灣)

  10. 和風水岸的悠閒—紀州庵料亭 (晰誌 | See Zine)

  11. 老屋的容顏|紀州庵:風光近半世紀高級料亭 (Bios Monthly)