Travel

Qidong Street Dorms (齊東街日式宿舍)

In 2016, the Taiwanese legislature passed some desperately needed amendments to the the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act (文化資產之保存) in order to address the major loopholes that existed within the original preservation law. Prior to those amendments, local governments were able to abuse the system to develop land occupied by historic properties, often resulting in them being bulldozed over night. 

Suffice to say, nowhere was this abuse more noticeable than in the capital where the ‘preservation act’ was essentially the ‘destruction act’ as mayors one after another signed off on pretty much any development project that involved tearing down historic properties. 

Today, I’ll be introducing the recently restored Qidong Street Dormitories, a group of nine Japanese-era buildings, saved from midnight bulldozing at the last minute thanks to the advocacy of local civic groups armed with the legislative power of the recently amended preservation act.

That being said, I invite you to look at the chart below which illustrates the neighborhood where the dorms are located. Highlighted in red is the location of the dorms while the green dots indicate historic buildings, most of which are likely to have already been bulldozed. 

While it is great that the Qidong Dormitories were the first cluster of historic buildings to be restored under the Cultural Preservation Act, the truth remains that so much of the capital’s history has already been lost in order to make way for shopping malls and housing development projects. One would hope that what little remains of Taipei’s storied history could receive similar treatment, so that future generations could learn about the nation’s history, but these are things that the local community are going to have to continue fighting for, just as they did to help preserve these dorms.  

Fortunately, the popularity of the Qidong Street Dorms, known today as the Taiwan Literature Base (臺灣文學基地), with locals and tourists alike might give the local government a little more incentive to make use of these historic buildings for practical, and more importantly sustainable purposes. If attitudes are changing thanks to successful projects like this one, we might just be able to protect other buildings as well!

Standing at the entrance today of the newly established cultural park, it’s hard not to notice the cluster of other Japanese-era buildings directly across the street as they look as if they’re in pretty rough shape and are in need of some much needed attention.

In the past, I’m sure you’d be forgiven if you were pessimistic about their future, but I’m personally starting to feel like there is some room for optimism with regard to the preservation of historic buildings like these. The success of the Qidong Street Dorms serves as a shining example of how the local government and private enterprises can work together to ensure that these buildings can be restored and used for practical purposes. 

With this article, I’m going to introduce the history of Qidong Street, the recently restored Japanese-era dorms, and the culture park that has been established on the grounds today.

Hopefully, the photos and the description will be enough to entice more and more people to visit as these dorms been beautifully restored and are are excellent locations for all of your Instagram photos.

And while you’re there, you can also learn about the history of the area and, of course, Taiwanese literature. 

Saiwaicho Official Dormitories (幸町職務官舍群)

Visiting the area today, you’d be remiss if you weren’t aware that Qidong Street (齊東街) as we know it today is one of the oldest and most important streets in the city. Geographically located between Zhongxiao Xinsheng Station (忠孝新生捷運站) and Dongmen Station (東門捷運站), the well over two-and-a-half century old road was once part of a major thoroughfare between the ports in Monga (艋舺) and Songshan (錫口碼頭) as well as a larger road from Taipei all the way to Keelung. 

Known during the Qing Dynasty as “Sann-pang-kiô” (三板橋), the road was nicknamed the “rice road” (米道) as grain and other necessities were transported from the basin to the city gates, and then to the river port in Monga (while it was still in use). Then, in 1890 (光緒16年), the area was developed for farming as “Sann-pang-kiô Village” (三板橋庄) by the wealthy Chou family.

When the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, the colonial government started to develop the area further with the large empty plots of farmland becoming home to public schools and an extension of the governing district, with several key buildings constructed within. The name of the village essentially stayed the same (changed to Japanese pronunciation), but in 1922 (大正12年), it was redistricted into the five following neighborhoods: Mihashicho (三橋町 / みはしちょう), Taishocho (大正町 / たいしょうちょう), Kabayamacho (樺山町 / かばやまちょう), Saiwaicho (幸町 / さいわいちょう) and Tomoncho (東門町 / とうもんちょう).

Note: Interestingly, the district became relatively infamous among the residents of Taipei as it was also home to one of the Taipei’s public graveyards, so when the Taiwanese locals told someone to ‘Go to Mihashi’ (去三板橋), it was understood that they were telling someone to fuck off, or literally “go die” (去死) - a local insult that has been lost with time.

Specific to this article, we’re going to focus on the Saiwaicho neighborhood (幸町), where Qidong Street is located. Home to the ‘Taiwan Sotokufu Chuo Kenkyuusho’ (台湾総督府中央研究所 / たいわんそうとくふちゅうおうけんきゅうしょ), or the Central Research Academy (currently the Ministry of Education), the Taihoku Second Girls High School (currently the Legislative Yuan), and a handful of other educational institutions, the neighborhood, and its historic road became a lot busier as the city expanded from the original walled town into the areas where Taipei’s rice paddies once existed. 

As the governing district of the capital grew, it became necessary to construct housing for the civil servants who came to Taiwan to assist in the governance and development of the island. The Mihashi area of town in particular became attractive as it was close enough to the central governing area and offered an ample amount of empty land where entirely new neighborhoods could be constructed. 

Many of the homes in the growing suburb were constructed between the 1920s and the 1940s, making some of them almost a century old. Unfortunately as I mentioned above, many of those former houses have disappeared over the past seventy years making way for larger apartment buildings and modern development. Still, the area that once made up Saiwaicho is home to a considerable amount of Japanese-era houses, some of which appear as if they’ll similarly be restored in the near future. 

As the neighborhood grew, businesses and entertainment venues followed, giving the area a reputation for its growing arts and culture scene, which I’d assume benefitted from the existence of the Taipei Wine Factory (台北酒工場) a short walk away, known today as the Huashan 1914 Creative Park (華山1914文化創意產業園區).

Nevertheless, when the Japanese era came to an end at the conclusion of the Second World War, the neighborhood was vacated for a short period of time as Japanese citizens were put on boats and sent back home. Then, a few years later in 1949 (民國38年), the Chinese Nationalists were forced to retreat to Taiwan from China, bringing with them almost two million refugees. The sudden influx of so many people created a huge housing crisis and even though there was a generous amount of empty Japanese-style homes, many people were left to fend for themselves in sloppily put together lodgings. 

For the most part, these beautifully constructed Japanese-style homes would have been reserved for higher ranking members of the Chinese Nationalist political and military elite, so when properties were being assigned, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that one of the largest of the Qidong dormitories was given to Major-General Wang Shu-ming (王叔銘少將), the Commander-in-Chief of the ROC Air Force who stayed there until 1992 (民國81年). That being said, historic records of the occupancy of each of the buildings was very well kept, and you can easily find a list of every occupant who ever lived in any of the buildings over their 80-100 year history through public records. 

Sitting on prime real estate in the heart of Taipei, developers planned for quite some time to have the historic neighborhood demolished in order to construct high-rise apartment complexes. However, the timely amendment of the Cultural Preservation Act and the hard work of civic activists ensured that these buildings were saved and ultimately restored.

I’d spend some time talking about that more than a decade-long battle with developers and the local government, but the wonderful Han Cheung, a staff reporter at the Taipei Times wrote an excellent feature on the subject, and I highly recommend you give it a read:

Link: Saving Qidong Street (Taipei Times)

Now that I’ve spent some time introducing the history of the area, let me introduce the seven buildings that have recently been restored and reopened to the public:  

Jinan Road Dorms (濟南路宿舍)

  1. Jinan Road #25 (濟南路25號) / Original address: 幸町148-6番地 (乙)

  2. Jinan Road #27 (濟南路27號) / Original address: 幸町144-32番地

Qidong Street Dorms (齊東街宿舍)

  1. Qidong Street Alley 53 #2 (齊東街53巷2號) / Original address: 幸町148-10番地 (乙)

  2. Qidong Street Alley 53 #4 (齊東街53巷4號) / Original address: 幸町148-10番地

  3. Qidong Street Alley 53 #6 (齊東街53巷6號) / Original address: 幸町148-10番地

  4. Qidong Street Alley 53 #8 (齊東街53巷8號) / Original address: 幸町148-6番地 (甲)

  5. Qidong Street Alley 53 #10 (齊東街53巷10號) / Original address: 幸町148-6番地 (甲)

Given that there are currently seven dorms open the public, introducing the architectural design and interior space of each of them would make this article far too long, so what I’m going to do is provide a generic introduction to the design of each of them and focus a bit more on the so-called ‘Qidong House’ (齊東舍), which has become one of the main attractions of the park.

To start, it’s important to take note of a couple of things: These dorms aren’t particularly the same as what I’ve written about before with regard to the housing provided for teachers or police, which are often split in two (雙拼式) to house more than one family. These buildings were reserved for higher-ranking civic officials and thus are single family (單棟式) dwellings, each of which comes fully equipped and is larger than what you’d see elsewhere. While they are larger than those other dorms, they maintain traditional Japanese-style interior design in that each of them consists of the following three spaces: a living space (起居空間), a service space (服務空間) and a passage space (通行空間). 

Links: Zhongli Police Dorms | Zhongli Teachers Dorms | Longtan Teachers Dorms

To better understand, the living space is considerably different than what we’re used to in western standards as what we might consider a “living room” is actually a brilliant multi-functional space where the family can receive guests, hang out, have their meals, drink tea and sleep. This space is usually the largest part of these houses and features “tokonoma” (床の間/とこのま), or large compartments (like a closet) with sliding doors in the walls where blankets, decorations and other necessities are stored during the day.

Link: Tokonoma (Wiki)

The ‘service’ space on the other hand includes a number of rooms that typically refers to the kitchen (台所 / だいどころ), bathroom (風呂 / ふろ), washroom (便所 / べんじょ), etc.

Decorated tokonoma space.

Finally, the ‘passage space’ in each of these dorms varies, but generally refers to the front and rear entrances as well as the corridors within, between the living space and the service space. Most notably in the case of these buildings, the passage space is much more prevalent than what you’d see in the smaller dorms given that they are considerably larger and aren’t split in two.  

Walking through the park today, you’d be forgiven if you thought that the entrances to each of the dorms weren’t facing the street as you’re only really able to enter each of the buildings through the rear.

While the size and design of each of the buildings differs, one thing you’ll want to take note of is that the foyer, or the main entrance to the buildings (玄關 / げんかん) is located facing the street with the largest of the two facing toward Jinan Road, while the other five face Qidong Street. 

Finally, one of the most significant design features (as far as I’m concerned at least) for each of these dorms are the beautiful ‘engawa’ (緣側/えんがわ) sliding door verandas on the rear side that face toward the courtyard, which as mentioned above currently serve as the main entrances to each of the dorms. In general, these spaces allow for natural air to enter the buildings, while also offering access to the areas where the gardens would have been located. Keeping in mind that these dorms were constructed for higher ranking members of the government, they are a bit nicer than what I’ve previously covered and are one of the areas where you can really appreciate the architectural design of the buildings from both the interior and the exterior. 

The size of each of the dorms varies between 80m² for the smallest and 180m² for the largest, while the rest of them are on average well over 100m². That being said, by today’s standards in Taipei, even the smallest is still rather spacious. The smallest of the seven featured two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, a bathroom and a washroom in addition to the passage spaces and the rear engawa space. 

Floor plan of the smallest dorm

While the size and interior design of the buildings differ slightly, one thing that remains the same with each of them is that they have all been constructed using the ubiquitous irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造) style of architectural design. What this essentially means is that that the base of the building is slightly smaller than the roof which is supported by genius network of trusses (屋架) constructed in the ceiling that help to support the weight of the four-sided sloped hip roof (四坡頂). As one of the most common styles of traditional Japanese architectural design, these buildings aren’t all that elaborate with regard to the size of the roof, save for the largest, which has distinct design and decorative features.  

Obviously, during the recent restoration, the original roof tiles had to be replaced as did the wooden shitamiita (下見版 / したみいた) siding on the buildings. Both the roof tiles and the siding are too new and are still quite dark, but as they age they will fade and will appear more like what you’d expect. 

Pretty shiny looking!

To conclude, I’m going to take a few minutes to offer some more specific information about the most popular, and coincidentally the largest of the Qidong Dorms, currently referred to as the Qidong House (齊東舍).

While I’d argue that all of the fully restored dorms are beautiful in their own way, the two larger dorms that face Jinan Street, namely #25 and #27 are the most popular with visitors.

At 176.6m², the Qidong House dorm is the largest of the bunch with its interior divided by the spaces mentioned above. More specifically the space is divided as follows: 

  1. Living space (起居空間): 104.5m² (59.2%)

  2. Service space (服務空間): 21.9m² (12.4%)

  3. Passage space (通行空間): 50m² (28.4%)

Featuring five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, living room, two dining rooms, foyer, and a massive ‘L’ shaped glass paneled engawa that stretches along the rear and western side of the building. Most of the rooms in the house can be described as spacious, making it a luxurious one for those lucky enough to have lived there. 

On that note, there are detailed records of who actually lived in the house over the years from the colonial era until recently, but instead of going into great detail about that, its easier to just say that the tenants of the building changed several times during the colonial era as it was quite common for high-ranking officials to be transferred elsewhere, or sent back to Japan. After 1945, the ownership of the building was offered to a high-ranking official in the Central Bank (中央銀行), whose family lived in the house until 1995.  

L-shaped engawa at the rear of the building.

Walking around the home today you’ll find various exhibits regarding the history of the area, but they were obviously very careful not to fill up the space with too much so that visitors can better appreciate the size and the beauty of this former mansion.

Today, when you see photos from the Qidong dorms, its safe to say that more than seventy-five percent of them were taken in this house, and one of the reasons for that is the beautiful glass-paneled engawa mentioned above. The geometric shape, the beautiful stone garden behind the house and the dark hardwood floors go together to make for some pretty beautiful photos, especially for those of us who have been able to travel due to the pandemic.  

Taiwan Literature Base (臺灣文學基地)

Opening to the public in 2020, the recently established Taiwan Literature Base (臺灣文學基地) is housed within a handful of the former Qidong Street Dormitories with a vision of promoting native literature and arts in a dedicated space. 

Making use of the historic Japanese-era dormitories, the Literature Base makes use of a sustainable partnership with the local government to provide a beautiful tourist space within Taipei City, while also promoting local authors and educating visitors about the literary history of Taiwan through exhibitions, performances, writers in-residence programs, courses, lectures and tours - all of which are organized regularly to assist in educating the public and promoting creative writing.

Making use of nine of the recently restored buildings, the Literature Base is a much-needed cultural space providing an instrumental service to citizens of all ages who have interest in pursing their creative writing abilities, or learning more about some of the nation’s accomplished literary figures.

Official image from the Taiwan Literature Base.

While the dorms introduced above are traditionally referred to simply by their street address, the buildings have since been renamed to reflect their current usage - Today you’ll find “Qidong House” (齊東舍), “Joy of Reading Hall” (悅讀館), “Muse Garden” (繆思苑), “Literature House” (文學厝), “Creative Workshop” (創作坊), and the “Exhibition Hall” (展覽廳), each of which is used for specific exhibition purposes.

The remaining building within the park is currently occupied by a Japanese-style tea house named “Matcha One” (平安京), which falls under a public-private partnership meant to assist the government in recuperating some of the public funds used to restore the buildings. This is a subject that I’ve previously touched on with regard to the restoration of historic buildings like these in Taiwan. 

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

I suppose the great thing about the park is that it not only allows people to visit and enjoy this historic section of Taipei while also providing the opportunity to take part in lectures and educational sessions meant to promote the literary scene in Taiwan, ultimately giving the park a dual-role that ensures that it will be able to attract people year-round. It also offers up a quiet space for authors to take up residence on a week by week basis where they can pretty much lock themselves up in a fully-equipped historic building closed off from the rest of society in order to get some work done. I can’t even imagine how wonderful such an opportunity would be if you were an author suffering from writers block!

Hours: Tuesday - Sunday from 10:00 - 18:00 (Closed on Mondays)

Website: English | 中文 | 日文 (Facebook Page: 臺灣文學基地)

Getting There

 

Address: #No. 27, Sec. 2, Jinan Rd. Taipei City. (臺北市中正區濟南路二段27號)

GPS: 25.041170, 121.528500

The Qidong Street Dorms, known today as the ‘Taiwan Literature Base’ are conveniently located within the heart of historic Taipei City and are easily accessible through the city’s excellent public transportation network. A short distance away from the popular Huashan Creative Park (華山1914文化創意產業園區) and the Guanghua Digital Plaza (光華商場), the dorms are within walking distance from a couple of MRT stations, making getting there relatively easy.

While technically closer to Taipei MRT’s Zhongxiao Xinsheng Station (忠孝新生捷運站) on the blue line, if you find yourself on the red line, the park is likewise a short walk from Shandao Temple Station (善導寺捷運站), most however would likely elect to walk from Zhongxiao Xinsheng as it is relatively more straight forward.

From Zhongxiao Xinsheng Station

From Exit 2 (第二出口) simply walk down Lane 134 of Zhongxiao East Road (忠孝東路134巷) until you reach Jinan Road (濟南路) where you’ll turn right and continue walking until you reach the park.  

From Shandao Temple Station 

From Exit 2 (第二出口) make your way to Linsen South Road (林森南路) where you’ll turn right and continue walking until you pass by Chenggong High School (成功高級中學) where you’ll take the corner just past the school on Jinan Road (濟南路) and continue walking straight until you reach the park. 

Bus 

In addition to the MRT system, there are also several bus routes that’ll allow you to easily get to the park. None of the buses I’m providing below however actually stop directly in front of the dorms, so similar to the options above, you’ll have to walk a short distance before arriving at the park. 

To the Jinan - Jinshan Intersection Bus Stop (濟南金山路口站)

To the Jinshan - Taian Street Bus Stop (金山泰安街口站)

Youbike

If you’ve been riding around the city on one of Taipei’s convenient Youbikes, you’ll find a couple of stations near the dorms where you’ll be able to dock the bike. The docking stations however are going to require a short walk. I don’t recommend parking your Youbike on the sidewalk near the park while you head in to visit as its possible that they’ll be taken away when you’re not around. 

Station 1: Jinan Road Section 1 (濟南路一段)

Located on the same road as the dorms, this station is a short distance away between a university and a junior high school. 

Station 2:  Huashan Youbike Station (華山化創園區)

Located at the Huashan Culture Park, this station is where you’ll want to go if you’re riding a Youbike 2.0 as it has docks for the newer version of the bikes. It’s considerably further away from the dorms than the first station however, so you’ll probably only want to make use of this one if you’re already visiting Huashan. 

As a recent addition to the Taipei tourist scene, the historic Qidong Street Dorms are quickly becoming one of the area’s most popular destinations, especially considering how they’re located so close to the Huashan Creative Park.

The great thing about the success of this new culture park is that it should make it rather obvious to the city government that these old buildings are great for attracting tourists, and if used properly can become essential cultural hot spots and tourist attractions. 

With that in mind, I think its important for any of you who visit to look across at the alley across from the main entrance where you’ll find another block of yet-to-be restored Japanese-era dormitories that are very much similar to these dorms, all of which can and should be restored and reopened for the enjoyment of the public.

Unfortunately, Taipei City has had a pretty poor reputation in recent years with regard to the preservation of historic buildings, so one would hope that these dorms are used as an example of how the city can build on their success. 

I highly recommend a stop by these dorms if you’re in the area, and if you’re lucky enough to be able to sign up for one of the lectures or tours provided by the friendly staff at the Literature Base, I’m sure it will be quite enjoyable. 

Make sure to pay attention to their website or their Facebook page to stay informed about what is being planned!  

References

  1. Qidong Street Japanese Houses | 齊東街日式宿舍 (Wiki)

  2. 齊東街日式宿舍 (國家文化資產網)

  3. 齊東街日式宿舍群修復工程啟動 (台北市文化局)

  4. 台北市齊東街日式宿舍群落社區設計與參與經驗 (鄭仲傑、張晉維、陸道宏、陳盈棻、陳婉寧)

  5. 歷史建築齊東街日式宿舍群整體修復暨再利用計畫 (臺灣記憶)

  6. 台灣文學基地開幕 北市最完整日式宿舍群改建 (中央通訊社)

  7. Saving Qidong Street (Taipei Times)

  8. Old Homes in the City Jungle (Taiwan Today)

  9. 齊東老街 走過歷史的歲月 (生命力新聞)


Zhuifen Train Station (追分車站)

In every country you visit, you’re likely to discover quirky things that are pretty much common knowledge among the locals, but come off as a bit confusing to outsiders. Almost every city and town in Taiwan seems to have something that it is well-known for, even if most people don’t actually realize why that’s the case.

Take the ubiquitous Taiwanese Meatball (肉圓) for example: Can you find them in restaurants all over the country? You sure can. Are they just as tasty in Taipei as they are elsewhere? Arguably yes! So why is it that whenever Taiwanese people visit Changhua, one of the first stops includes eating a meatball? Is there something special in the water there that makes them better? I don’t really know the answer to that. I’ve been here long enough however to know that if I’m in the area, I’d better stop by and ensure that this tradition continues.

Over the past few months, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time writing about the “Coastal Railway Five Treasures” (海線五寶), a set of five century old wooden train stations from the Japanese-era. For most people in Taiwan, it’s unlikely that they’ve ever actually heard the term before (save for railway enthusiasts) would be excused for having never heard the term before. Even though the five stations are pretty cool, and are quite historically significant, their existence as a whole hasn’t really entered the national conscious in a way that even remotely resembles some of the iconic culinary dishes you’ll find around the country.  

Interestingly though, when we talk about the five stations, namely Dashan (大山), Tanwen (談文) and Xinpu (新埔), Rinan (日南) and Zhuifen (追分) - only one of those names is going to peak the interest of the proverbial national conscious.

With this article I’ll be introducing the fifth and final of the five (wooden) Japanese-era stations along Taiwan’s Western Coastal Railway, Zhuifen Station (追分車站). The southernmost of the group is the one that is most likely going to be a household name no matter where you go in Taiwan, and is part of an interesting, yet quirky local railway tradition that goes back several decades.

Unlike most of the other stations along the line, Zhuifen’s importance wasn’t derived from the freight that was loaded at the station, but due to the fact that it became an important transportation hub where the Western Trunk Railway and the Coastal Railway meet at Changhua Station (彰化車站), just across the Dadu River (大肚溪).

Below, I’ll detail the history and the architectural design of the station, and introduce why it was technically-speaking one of the most significant stops along the Coastal Railway, but before I do that I’m going provide a short language lesson to better explain why the station has become a household name in Taiwan. 

To start, the original Japanese-language name of the station was “Oiwake Railway Station” (追分驛 / おいわけえき), which is coincidentally a common name among railway stations back in Japan with almost a dozen with the same (or a slight variation) name. In Japan, the word “oiwake” (おいわけ) refers to a “forked road” also known as a “divergence” or “bunkiro” (分岐路 / ぶんきろ). In the case of this particular station, what the name alluded to was its geographic location, where the Coastal Line would fork in one direction toward its final destination in Changhua and connecting directly to the Mountain Line (山線). 

The Kanji for “Oikwake” (追分) however has a much different meaning in Mandarin - The first character “zhuī“ (追) translates as “to chase” or “to pursue” while “fēn” (分) is just simply a “part” or a “division,” among other things. When you put the two together, the meaning is similar to what you’d find in Japan, but for locals it is interpreted as an abbreviation for a much more auspicious meaning, essentially “chasing your dreams” or “pursuing your destiny” (追到緣分).

When Oda Station (王田驛) was officially renamed Chenggong Station (成功車站) in the 1960s, the line that connected the two stations became an instant hit as railway tickets would read “Zhuifen to Chenggong” (追分 - 成功), which is even more auspicious as it means you’ve “successfully made your dreams come true” (zhuī fēn chéng gōng / 追分成功). For young people, that ticket is almost as useful as visiting the God of Literature (文昌帝君) to pray for success on upcoming exams. 

Similarly, in Taiwanese Mandarin (台灣國語), the pronunciation of the ‘fēn” in "zhuī fēn” can be pronounced as “f” (ㄈ) or “h” (ㄏ), so for some people “zhuī fēn” might instead be pronunced as “zhuī hūn” or “pursuing marriage” (追婚), making the trip between the two stations just as popular as a visit to the God of Matchmaking as the ticket symbolizes a couple’s success in marriage proposal.

Even more interesting is that the station to the west of Zhuifen, Dadu Station (大肚車站) similarly has a symbolic meaning for young couples in that the Chinese characters “大肚” (dà dù) refer to a ‘large belly’ while “成功” (chéng gōng) means success.

In this case, I probably don’t have to explain what the symbolism here is referring to.

For people in Taiwan, a ticket from these stations has symbolic purpose, and acts as a “good luck charm” comparable to the amulets you might receive after a visit to a local temple. 

And now you know why Zhuifen Station is a household name across the country! 

Before I get into the history of the station, let me take a few minutes to introduce the significance of the Coastal Railway. If you’ve read this already, feel free to skip it and scroll down. 

Coastal Railway (海岸線 / かいがんせん)

The history of the railway in Taiwan dates back as far as 1891 (光緒17), when the Qing governor, attempted to construct a route stretching from Keelung (基隆) all the way to Hsinchu (新竹). Ultimately though, the construction of the railway came at too high of a cost, especially with war raging back home in China, so any plans to expand it further were put on hold.

A few short years later in 1895 (明治28), the Japanese took control of Taiwan, and brought with them a team of skilled engineers who were tasked with coming up with plans to have that already established railway evaluated and then to come up with suggestions to extend it all the way to the south of Taiwan and beyond.   

The Jūkan Tetsudō Project (ゅうかんてつどう / 縱貫鐵道), otherwise known as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway Project’ sought to have the railroad pass through all of Taiwan’s already established settlements, including Kirin (基隆), Taihoku (臺北), Shinchiku (新竹), Taichu (臺中), Tainan (臺南) and Takao (高雄). 

Completed in 1908 (明治41), the more than four-hundred kilometer railway connected the north to the south for the first time ever, and was all part of the Japanese Colonial Government’s master plan to ensure that Taiwan’s precious natural resources would be able to flow smoothy out of the ports in Northern, Central, and Southern Taiwan. 

Once completed, the Railway Department of the Governor General of Taiwan (台灣總督府交通局鐵道部) set its sights on constructing branch lines across the country as well as expanding the railway network with a line on the eastern coast as well. 

Link: Taiwan Railway Museum (臺灣總督府鐵道部)

However, after almost a decade of service, unforeseen circumstances in central Taiwan necessitated changes in the way that the western railway was operated, with issues arising due to typhoon and earthquake damage. More specifically, the western trunk railway in Southern Miaoli passed through the mountains and required somewhat of a steep incline in sections before eventually crossing bridges across the Da’an (大安溪) and Da’jia Rivers (大甲溪), which started to create a lot of congestion, and periodic service outages when the railway and the bridges had to be repaired. 

Link: Long-Teng Bridge (龍騰斷橋)

To solve this problem, the team of railway engineers suggested the construction of the Kaigan-sen (かいがんせん / 海岸線), or the Coastal Railway Branch line between Chikunangai (ちくなんがい / 竹南街) and Shoka (しょうかちょう / 彰化廳), or what we refer to today as Chunan and Changhua. 

Link: Western Trunk Line | 縱貫線 (Wiki)  

Construction on the ninety kilometer Coastal Line started in 1919, and amazingly was completed just a few short years later in 1922 (大正11), servicing eighteen stations, some of which (as I mentioned above) continue to remain in service today. 

Those stations were: Zhunan (竹南), Tanwen (談文湖), Dashan (大山), Houlong (後龍), Longgang (公司寮), Baishatun (白沙墩), Xinpu (新埔), Tongxiao (吞霄), Yuanli (苑裡), Rinan (日南), Dajia (大甲), Taichung Port (甲南), Qingshui (清水), Shalu (沙轆), Longjing (龍井), Dadu (大肚), Zhuifen (追分) and Changhua (彰化). 

(Note: English is current name / Chinese is the original Japanese-era station name)

Oiwake Railway Station (追分驛 / おいわけえき)

Opening simultaneously with most of the other stations on the Coastal Line, Oiwake Station (追分驛 / おいわけえき) officially opened on October 11th, 1922 (大正12年), and is geographically the southern-most station in Taichung as trains cross the Dadu River (大肚溪) into Changhua where the railway merges into one.

Earlier we learned about the symbolic significance of Oiwake Station, now it’s time to go into some detail about its technical significance, which has over the past century made it one of the most important on the Coastal Line. 

The first thing to keep in mind is that the Western Trunk Line (縱貫鐵道) spanned the entire western coast of Taiwan, from Kiirun (基隆 / きいるんぐん) in the north to Takao (高雄 / たかおしゅう) in the south, or Keelung and Kaohsiung as they’re known today. As mentioned earlier, when the Coastal Line was completed in 1922, the western line split into two separate railways from Chikunan (Zhunan / 竹南 / ちくなんぐん) to Shoka (Changhua / 彰化 / しょうかぐん).

The Mountain Line (山線) followed the original inland route through Miaoli into Taichung and then into Changhua, while the newly constructed Coastal Line (海線) followed a route closer to the coast on the other side of the mountains. The construction of the Coastal Line two decades later was necessary in order to ensure the efficiency of the railway, the movement of freight, and connecting newer communities to the new form of public transportation.

Interestingly, when proposals started to appear for the Coastal Line, residents of Taichung protested in large numbers as they considered the new line a dagger to the heart of the development of their city thinking that the new line would push industry outwards towards the coast. Nevertheless, the Governor General’s office pushed ahead with plans for the railway as exporting natural resources and agriculture products was far more important to the colonial regime, and ensuring that development of the island could continue.

The ninety kilometer Coastal Railway between Zhunan and Changhua officially started service on October 11th, 1922 and between Miaoli and Changhua serviced sixteen stations, some of which became incredibly important with regard to the export of agricultural commodities. Two years earlier however, service on the first section of the railway, known as the Oda Branch Line (王田支線) between Oda Station (王田驛) and Kiyomizu Station (清水驛) opened for service on Christmas, 1920 (大正10年).

In today’s terms, the line essentially branched off at Chenggong Station (成功車站) and curved north with a final stop at Qingshui Station (清水車站) where freight could be transported to Taichung Port. To this day, the opening of the Oda Branch Line is interpreted by many as a method of appeasing the people of Taichung. who were weary of the Coastal Branch, but quickly took to the new line as it provided a means of visiting the nearby beach on the weekend. Similarly, it was also seen as a practical move to ensure that freight could be transported to the Taichung port on the western coast as soon as possible.

The stations that opened on December 25th, 1920 are as follows (Japanese-era / current name)

Oda / Chenggong Station (王田驛 / おうたえき / 成功車站)

Daito / Dadu Station (大肚驛 / だいとえき / 大肚車站)

Tatsui / Longjing Station (龍井驛/たついえき / 龍井車站)

Sharoku / Shalu Station (沙鹿驛/しゃろくえき / 沙鹿車站)

Kiyomizu / Qingshui Station (清水水驛/きよみずえき / 清水車站).

When the remaining sections of the Coastal Railway were connected and officially opened for service in 1922, the connection between Oda Station on the Mountain Line and Oiwake Station on the Coastal Line remained in service with the two railways forming what is known as a “wye” or a “junction triangle” (三角線 / 分岐路). This allowed the two railways to merge into one at Changhua (and later at the Dadu River South Signal Station (大肚溪南號誌站)). However, as the Coastal Line and the Mountain Line remained separate entities until they merged at Changhua, the branch rail that connected the Mountain Line to the Coastal Line became known as the “Chengzhui Line” (成追線), a two kilometer line that connected both railways.

Even though the line was a short one, it was instrumental in ensuring for better efficiency for passengers and freight, which would have had to first travel into Changhua, and then turn around and head back north if it weren’t for the connection.

Link: Changhua Roundhouse 彰化扇形車庫 - Spectral Codex

In Japanese, the term “oiwake” (おいわけ) as mentioned earlier refers to a “forked road” and so even though we are able to find symbolism in the name of the station today, it was constructed essentially to allow trains running along the Coastal Railway a space to stop before they continued across the river into Changhua.

In terms of the number of passengers who pass through the station, Zhuifen tends to be one of the busiest of the ‘five treasure’ station with an annual number of passengers averaging between 293,000 in 2010 and 208,000 in 2020. Even though those numbers have been declining over the years, the station remains relatively busy with an average of 500-700 people passing through the station on a daily basis.

The recent construction of the nearby Taichung High Speed Rail Station (台中高鐵站) and the Taichung Metro (台中捷運) have recently factored into the decline of passengers at the station, but as things go, it remains a pretty popular tourist attraction with many arriving in order to enjoy the symbolism that the it provides with regard to relationships and school success.

Zhuifen Station was recognized as a Taichung Protected Heritage Building on November 26th, 2002 shortly after it celebrated its eightieth year of service. The protected status is important for buildings like this as it ensures that funding will be made available in case of emergency and that there are plans to ensure its long-term survivability. As the station is due to celebrate its centennial in late 2022, it should go without saying that the historical significance of the station deserves some special recognition, and hopefully we’ll see some celebrations planned in the coming months!

Before I get into the architectural design of the station, let me take a minute to provide a short timeline of events with regard to the station:  

Timeline

  • 12/25/1920 (大正10年) - The Oda Branch Line (王田支線) opens for service between Oda Station (王田驛 / おうたえき ) and Kiyomizu Station (清水驛 / きよみずえき).

  • 10/11/1922 (大正12年) - The Coastal Railway officially opens for service.

  • 10/11/1922 (大正12年) - Oiwake Station (追分驛) officially opens for service.

  • 10/11/1922 (大正12年) - The Oda Branch Line officially becomes the Oda - Oikwake branch.

  • 1987 (民國76年) - Passenger service on the Chengzhui comes to a stop as the line is instead reserved for emergency use.

  • 1997 (民國86年) - Passenger service on the Chengzhui Branch Line opens up again for service.

  • 06/30/2015 (民國104年) - The station switches primarily to card swiping tickets.

  • 07/2017 (民國106年) - The track along the Chengzhui Branch line was widened into a dual track in order to increase the amount of trains traveling back and forth between the Taichung Line and the Coastal Line.

  • 08/2021 (民國110年) - The widening project is completed after several years work.

Architectural Design

When we talk about the stations that make up the Coastal Railway’s Five Treasures, the architectural design of each of the five stations differ only slightly - and most of those differences are the result of the past few decades of operation. I suppose this shouldn’t be too much of a surprise given that they were all small stations, each of which opened in the same year, meaning that some funds were saved when it came to architectural design. That being said, the design of these buildings is about as formulaic as you’ll get with Japanese architectural design, but don’t let that fool you - the simplicity of these stations allows for some special design elements. 

Like the other four stations, Oiwake Station was constructed in a fusion of Japanese and Western architectural design, and one of the reasons it stands out today (apart from its age) is that it was built entirely of wood (木造結構), more specifically locally sourced Taiwanese cedar (杉木), making use of a cement base and a network of beams within the building to ensure structural stability.

The architectural design fusion in the stations that were constructed during the Taishō era (大正) borrowed elements of Western Baroque (巴洛克建築) with that of traditional Japanese design. In this case, the design is somewhat subdued (likely for cost saving measures) allowing the traditional Japanese design elements stand out more. 

To start, the station was constructed using Irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) style of design, most often referred to in English as the “East Asian hip-and-gable roof.” As mentioned above, the building was constructed with a network of beams and trusses found in the interior and exterior of the building. This allows the roof to (in this case slightly) eclipse the base (母屋) in size and ensure that its weight is evenly distributed.

The roof was designed using the kirizuma-zukuri (妻造的樣式) style, which is one of the oldest and most commonly used designs in Japan. Translated simply as a “cut-out gable” roof, the kirizuma-style is one of the simplest of Japan’s ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs. What this basically means is that you have a section of the roof (above the rear entrance) that ‘cuts’ out from the rest of the roof and faces outward like an open book (入) while the longer part of the roof is curved facing in the opposite direction.

To really appreciate the shape of the roof you’ll have to walk around and view it from all four sides because when you look at it from the front, it appears to be rather simple, save for the fact that it is split into two levels, with a lower section that covers the walkway that surrounds the building on three sides.

The space between the upper portion of the roof and the lower portion features glass windows that were constructed for the purpose of allowing natural light to enter the building. One of the modern additions to the front includes some square lighted signs with the name of the station, blocking some of the windows. Fortunately, there are windows on three sides of the station hall, so during the day you’ll find that there is an ample amount of natural light coming into the building. 

The interior of the station is split in two sections, much like what we saw the former Qidu Railway Station, with the largest section acting as the station hall while the other was where the station staff and ticket windows were located. Given that this station is still in operation, only one side is understandably open to the public. Despite its popularity, the interior of the station isn’t all that flashy and you’ll discover that the space is a bit cluttered with notices, warnings and posters covering most of the empty space on the walls. 

While inside, you’ll want to take note of the cement floor and the large sliding glass windows to the left of the ticket window and to the right of the entrance. Likewise, I recommend looking up to the ceiling at the wall opposite the ticket booth where you’ll see one of the ox-tail windows and the usage of wooden beams within the wall to ensure stability.

One of the most notable aspects of the interior is the wooden gate located near the ticket booth. The gate is rather unique in Taiwan these days in that it was constructed to look like the Japanese word for ‘money’ (円).

Interestingly, it appears as if the station was modified at some point with the ‘money gate’ on the left side as you’d find it at all of the other ‘five treasure’ stations. The ticket window however is currently located on the right.

Today you’ll find the iconic electronic ticket booth in front of the gate and my best guess is that with so many people visiting the station looking for their ‘good luck charm’ tickets, they kept the ticket machine while the other stations switched completely to electronic card swiping.

I could very well be wrong, but it would be odd for this station to be constructed differently than the other four given that they were all constructed together and appear the same.

Located on both the rear and eastern side of the building, one of the most notable Baroque inspired elements are the ox-eye windows (牛眼窗). Located just above the ‘cut’ section of the roof (near the arch) you’ll find these round windows that look almost as if they were something you’d find on a boat. The windows essentially help to provide natural light into the office section of the building, and are one of those architectural elements that Japanese architects of the period loved to include in their designs. 

Similar to the other four ‘treasures’, once you pass through the gates you’ll find a beautifully constructed wooden fence that is somewhat rare among Taiwan’s railway stations these days. The fence has since been painted, but the original Taiwanese cedar that was used almost a century ago (like the rest of the building) has withstood the test of time and continues to remain in place today. 

As you pass through the ticket gate to make your way to the platforms, you’ll notice the (relatively) new underpass to the platforms directly to your right. When the station was first constructed though, passengers would have made their way left and then (carefully) crossed the tracks to the waiting area for the train.

Today, that area features a modest garden with some statues of local deities (hint: they’re related to education and matters of love), but the rest of the area is blocked off. 

Still, once you’ve passed through the gates and walk around to the rear of the station (or to the platform area) you get to see the arguably most beautiful side of the station where the roof is much more impressive and more time was spent on the architectural design. You’ll see the ox-tail window above the ‘cut’ section of the roof with all of the windows unobstructed. You’ll even get a pretty good view of the station while standing on the platforms waiting for the next train. 

Getting There

 

Address: #13 Zhuifen Street, Dadu District, Taichung City (臺中市大肚區追分街13號)

GPS: 24.120540, 120.570160

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

As the southernmost of the ‘five treasure’ stations on the Coastal Railway, getting to this station is probably going to take the most (or coincidentally also the least) amount of time depending on where you set off from. If you’ve been taking the Coastal Railway south from Hsinchu Station (新竹車站), it’s going to take around one hundred minutes, if you travel directly. 

That being said, you’re in a bit of luck with this station as it is only about twenty minutes south of Taichung Station (臺中車站) by way of local commuter train (區間車), and even quicker if you take the High Speed Rail to the Taichung High Speed Rail Station (高鐵台中站) where you’ll switch to Taiwan Railway’s Xinwuri Station (新烏日車站), and ride for less than ten minutes.

Similarly if you’re in town and close to one of the newly established TMRT (台中捷運) station’s on the Green Line (綠線), you can ride all the way to the Xinwuri HSR Station, and then transfer to the normal train as mentioned above. 

Link: Taichung Green Line Route Map (台中捷運綠線地圖)

If you’re already in the area and have access to a car or a scooter, you can easily find the station if you input the address provided above into your GPS or Google Maps. The station is located within Taichung’s southern Dadu District (大肚區) along the border with Changhua. If you’re driving, the station is a simple turn off of Shatian Road (沙田路) into a small alley where you should be able to find parking along the road. 

If you’re relying on public transportation, but don’t want to take the train you have the option of taking the following buses, which will get you pretty close to the station. If you’re taking any of buses listed below, make sure to get off at the Zhuifen Stop (追分站).

Click the bus number to access the route map and schedule for each route: 

  1. Taichung Bus (台中客運) #93 - Xinwuri Station - Tongancuo (新烏日車站 - 銅安厝)

  2. Taichung Bus (台中客運) #102 - Gancheng Station - Shalu (干城站 - 沙鹿)

  3. Zhong-Lu Bus (中鹿客運) #105 - Sizhangli - Longjing (四張犁 - 龍井)

  4. Zhong-Lu Bus (中鹿客運) #617 - Taichung Harbor Passenger Service Center - Renyou Parking Lot (台中港旅客服務中心 - 仁友停車場)

  5. GEYA Bus (巨業客運) #180 - Shalu - Changhua (沙鹿 - 彰化)

  6. SF-E Bus (四方客運) #245 - Dadu District Office - Asia University Hospital (大肚區公所 - 亞大醫院)

Having access to buses that will allow you arrive at the station is helpful, but once again unless you’re in some weird part of town that one of them serves, it’s probably better to just take the train. One helpful piece of advice is that when you’re inside the station they have a monitor set up that provides real-time arrivals of the buses that pass through the area, for those of you who prefer to take the bus. 

Whether you’re visiting this station because you’re interested in these Japanese-era buildings, or because you’re in the ‘pursuit of success’, you won’t need a whole of time to appreciate this historic train station. In fact, you could probably jump off of the train, check out the station and then hop on the next train that rolls through. Obviously for a lot of Taiwanese people, this particular station holds a much deeper meaning than the other four of the so-called ‘treasures’, but given that it will be celebrating its centennial, it’s a pretty good time to visit and show this old station some appreciation.

References

  1. Zhuifen Railway Station | 追分車站 | 追分駅 (Wiki)

  2. Jhueifen Railway Station | 追分車站 (大玩台中)

  3. 追分駅 (れとろ駅舎)

  4. 追分車站 (臺灣驛站之遊)

  5. Chengzhui Line | 成追線 (Wiki)

  6. 縱貫鐵路海線.追分車站 (台中市文化資產處)

  7. 縱貫鐵路(海線)─追分車站 (國家文化資產處)

  8. 台中、大肚|追分車站.分秒必爭追到成功 (旅遊圖中)

  9. 海線鐵路與區域發展 (郭婷玉(國立臺灣大學歷史學研究所博士候選人)

  10. 鐵道迷最愛美拍!台灣「海線5寶」你去過幾個? (食尚玩家)

  11. 細說苗栗「海線三寶」車站物語 (臺灣故事)

  12. 木造車站-海線五寶 (張誌恩 / 許正諱)

  13. 海線僅存五座木造車站:談文、大山、新埔、日南、追分全收錄!(David Win)

  14. 臺中市文化資產 (Wiki)

  15. 臺中縣縣定古蹟「縱貫鐵路(海線)追分、日南車站」調查研究暨修復計畫 (閻亞寧)


Baiyun Police Station (白雲派出所)

It’s a rare occasion when I’m able to combine my interest in the Japanese Colonial Era with another one of my interests, Urban Exploration. Today’s article will feature a bit of both. I’m also going to be touching on an unfortunate event that took place a few short years after the Japanese left Taiwan, and has had lasting repercussions on this beautiful country.

Today I’ll be introducing an abandoned Japanese-era police outpost in the mountains that dates back to the early 1920s. More than a century old, the station has played several roles over the years, but is most notably remembered for the suppression of both the indigenous people of Taiwan, and then later against those who opposed Chinese Nationalist rule.  

For some, the station is a dark reminder of an authoritarian history and the violent suppression of Taiwan’s indigenous people and the empty shell of a building that remains standing today is a fitting reminder of that history.

Recently recognized as a protected heritage building by the New Taipei City Government, funds have been available to clean up and preserve what little remains of the station. Still, it remains a skeleton of what it once was, and it doesn’t seem like there are any plans to restore any of the pieces that have been lost.

So, even though the historic police station is a somewhat obscure destination in the mountains of New Taipei’s Xizhi District, I’m not entirely convinced that I should consider it to be the type of ‘urban exploration’ that I’m usually interested in.

Sure, its an abandoned building, but its not abandoned in the same sense of other places that I visit. 

I’m going to try to keep this one somewhat brief in that I’ll spend a little less time introducing the history and architecture of the building than I usually do. However, given that I’m publishing this during the annual 2/28 Memorial Holiday, I will spend a short time introducing the events that made the police station a focal point for some unfortunate incidents that have become a stain on Taiwan’s modern history.

Given that 2022 marks the 30th anniversary of what many consider the formal end of Taiwan’s four-decade long period of White Terror (白色恐怖), which saw hundreds of thousands imprisoned and a still unknown number executed by the state - it’s important that these stories continue to be told and the crimes of the past continue to come to light.

Baiyun Police Station (十三分警察官吏派出所)

When the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, opposition campaigns sprouted up with the Hokkien, Hakka and Indigenous inhabitants forming armed rebellions all over the island. To quell these movements, the Japanese authorities reacted violently, and as those who opposed their rule were pushed further into the mountains, the Japanese followed suit with a militaristic presence in areas that were once thought to be uncontrollable by the previous Qing rulers. 

For the first few years of Japanese rule, these opposition movements persisted around the island, but as was the case with almost every powerful colonial regime throughout history, they were violently silenced by the more powerful, and better equipped rulers. 

In 1920 (大正9年), the Jusanfun Police Branch (十三分警察官吏派出所) was set up as a mountainous outpost under the direction of the Shiodome District Branch of Taihoku Prefecture’s Police Bureau (臺北州警務部七星郡警察課的汐止分室). Located in the mountains of Shiodome (汐止街/しおどめまち), or what we refer to today as New Taipei’s Xizhi District (汐止區). Geographically located at the intersection of Nangang (南港), Shiding (石碇) and Xizhi (汐止), the outpost was meant to help keep keep the ‘Kypanas’ (峰仔峙社) of the Ketagalan tribe (凱達格蘭族) under control as well as to protect the local farmers as the area was famed for its tea production as well as its coal mines.

By the 1920s Japanese rule in Taiwan had more or less stabilized, so from the time it was constructed until the end of the Second World War, not all that much happened at the station. Records as to what happened after the Chinese Nationalists took over however remain a bit convoluted as resources about the station tend to provide conflicting accounts. Some of the historical information you’ll find about the building argues that it was occupied by the police until the late 1960s, while others argue that it was instead used as a dormitory for the principal of the elementary school next door. While I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case at some point, from everything I’ve seen I think its safe to say that the building was used as a police station and dormitory for the police until the late 1960s. 

What we do know for sure is that when the tragic ‘Luku Incident’ took place in 1952 (民國41年), the station was still in use as a branch of the Xizhi Police Station.

According to the information available from the National Culture Database Management System, in addition to the educational resources provided on-site, the station was still occupied in 1962 (民國51年) by a patrol officer, two administrative officers and a military conscript. The patrol officer was fortunate enough to have his own separate housing to the rear of the station, but the others stayed within the shared-dormitory section connected to the station. 

If my resources are correct, the station likely ceased operating as a police outpost in 1976 (民國65年), but it apparently wasn’t completely abandoned until 1992 (民國81年). My assumption is that during the sixteen year period from when the police left and the building was abandoned, it was probably used as a dormitory for the principal of the school next door.

If that’s the case, the accounts I’ve read could both be correct, but just not precise in the dates they provide. 

Finally, in 2009 (民國98年), the Taipei County Government listed the site as a protected historic building and slated the property for simple restoration, which included cleaning up the landscape and the abandoned materials that couldn’t be saved. Despite being abandoned for more than a decade, and both the building and the landscape in terrible shape, the empty shell of the building was protected as it was atypical of the construction techniques of the era for which there are very few still remaining intact.

Unfortunately, given that what remains of the outpost is an empty shell of its former self, I’m going to provide a couple of illustrations below to offer a better description of how the station originally appeared.

Before getting into the architectural design of the station, I’m going to provide a brief timeline of historic events for the station: 

Timeline:

  • 1920 (大正9年) - Taihoku Prefecture (台北州廳) is redistricted and Shiodome machi (汐止街/しおどめまち) falls under the administration of Shichisei district (七星郡/しちせいぐん) with the mountainous area falling under Shichisei as Jusanfun (十三分 / じゅう さん ふん).

  • 1920 (大正9年) - The 13th Branch Police Station (十三分警察官吏派出所) opens for service.

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to an end and Japan surrenders control of Taiwan to the Chinese Nationalists.

  • 12/29/1952 (民國41年) - Security personnel set up a blockade of the village of Luku (鹿窟), a short distance away from the station using the station for logistical purposes.

  • 03/05/1953 (民國42年) - The blockade of the village comes to an end and the security forces leave the area. 

  • 1976 (民國65年) - The building ceases operation as a police outpost and ownership is transferred to the local school for administrative usage.

  • 1992 (民國81年) - Having become run down, the building is completely abandoned, and is left to the elements. 

  • 08/20/2009 (民國98年) - The Taipei County government lists the station as a protected historic site (歷史建築).

Architectural Design

When I write about these historic buildings, I usually spend a considerable amount of time describing their architectural design. In this case however, I don’t really feel like I need to spend too much time on that this time as it’s currently only a skeleton of its original self, with only the concrete base remaining. 

Interestingly, even though the history is rather hit-and-miss in terms of the information that is readily available, when it comes to the architectural design of the building we’re blessed with a wealth of information regarding how it would have looked more than a century ago.

Constructed in 1920 (大正9年), the station was built in an era when Japanese architects were taking inspiration from the Art Deco designs of Europe and fusing it with traditional Japanese design techniques. making use of a combination of reinforced concrete and wood in a style known as ‘Wayō secchū kenchiku’ (和洋折衷建築/わようせっちゅうけんち), or literally “Japanese-Western Eclectic Architecture,” this architectural style spread throughout Japan during the Meiji Restoration (明治維新), and continued with Emperor Taisho (大正) and his successor Emperor Showa (昭和天皇).  

Essentially split into two sections, the eastern side of the building was constructed with concrete and was where the daily operation of the police station would have taken place. The roof of the building was higher than the western side and features the two-sided kirizuma-zukuri (切妻造 / きりづまづくり) style of roof design. The western side of the building on the other hand was a traditional living space for the employees of the police station and was constructed in a more traditional style featuring a beautiful four-sided yosemune-zukuri (寄棟造 /よせむねづくり) style of roof, creating a three dimensional design as illustrated below.

One of the most important architectural elements of Art-Deco style is the inclusion of flowing geometric shapes and it would be an understatement to say that architects of the time absolutely loved fusing traditional Japanese-style ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs in these designs. These geometrically complex roofs expanded upon the Art Deco style and ensured that traditional Japanese characteristics were plainly visible. So, while it may have appeared that the building consisted of two different roofs, they were actually connected with the eastern end having an arch facing outwards towards the entrance while the western side arched in the opposite direction. 

Obviously, since the only part of the building that remains today is the concrete administrative section, the only part of the roof that we can see now is the (recently restored) two-sided kirizuma roof, which is constructed to look like an ‘open book’ or the Chinese character “入”.

The architecture of this section was regarded by designers as the primarily western-inspired section of the station, or the ‘youkan’ (洋館 / ようかん) with high ceilings and a spacious open interior. 

When you visit today, you’ll find the outline of where the Japanese-style designed ‘wakan’ (和館  /わかん) once existed, with some of the cement pieces from the base still intact. The building itself however was demolished decades ago, and I doubt that there will be any efforts to reconstruct it in the near future. That being said, the building was constructed of wood and was a ‘shared-dormitory’ style building featuring a living space, kitchen, common area and a western-style bathroom (likely added in the 1960s).

The living space would have been connected directly to the station and employees would have been able to go back and forth during the day between the station and the residence.

As mentioned above, there also used to be a separate dorm building to the rear that housed the patrol officer, and I’m assuming his family. The building wouldn’t have been all that large, but it seems like it would have been completely covered by a beautiful tree, which would have been nice. There isn’t any record as to when that particular building disappeared, so I’m assuming that it was bulldozed around the same time as the other building, but there is little evidence that it actually existed today.

Today, the station is simply an empty shell with only a little evidence of what once existed on the grounds - The station grounds cover about 1000 square meters of land (300坪), and if you walk around you’ll be able to find other objects that once existed on the site, such as an old flag pole and the stone barriers on the hill in front of the station. If you take the time to explore and know where to look, you’ll be able to find quite a bit while walking around.  

The Luku Incident (鹿窟事件)

One of the first (as well as the largest) events of the White Terror Period (白色恐怖), the infamous ‘Luku Incident' was a several month-long massacre starting on December 29th, 1952 and spread over a several month period until March 3rd 1953.

While many of the facts about what happened are still unknown, records are slowly opening up thanks to the Transitional Justice branch of the government, tasked with discovering the truth of what happened during Taiwan’s period of authoritarian one-party rule. 

What we do know is a situation the authoritarian government perceived as a threat resulted in a heavy-handed response that saw thousands of police officers marching into the mountains, blockading a village for months, and ended in the arrests of hundreds of innocent people, many of whom were imprisoned on false charges, while others were executed for crimes against the state. 

Official records (currently) state that more than four-hundred villagers were arrested, one hundred imprisoned and thirty-six of them were executed for charges relating to treason or espionage over the four month period. For those that were arrested, interrogation and torture was pretty much a given, and if one ultimately submitted and admitted to a crime (as many do during torture sessions), it was a death sentence.

So what caused this mess? 

Reeling from their losses during the Chinese Civil War, the Chinese Nationalists were intent on eliminating anyone with communist sympathies here in Taiwan in fear that ‘collaborators’ would be able to assist those back in China in any future attack on Taiwan.

In 1949, looking for a strategic stronghold in Taiwan, the village of Luku (鹿窟) in the mountains between the port of Keelung and the capital of Taipei was selected to become a communist base of operations.

By 1950, it is estimated that the group had attracted around three-hundred followers, and named itself the “Taiwan People’s Self Defense Force” (台灣人民武裝保衛隊). In late 1952, one the members of the group was captured and gave up details of the group’s operations including those who were involved. The area was then put under surveillance, and within a month it was decided that the Security Bureau (保密局), the Security Command (保安司令部), the Taipei Garrison Command (台北衛戍司令部) and the Taipei County Police (台北縣警察局) would coordinate and dispatch a 15,000 man response to block the mountains and rout out the communist threat. 

For most people Taiwan today, the incident was one of those largely forgotten events of the White Terror period - Few actually knew what happened, nor what the government did to the people of this village. For the villagers however, life in the aftermath of what happened was never able to return to normal.

For much of the 1950s, the vast majority of the villages men had disappeared, or were dead - This left only widows, children and the elderly, most of whom were geographically isolated from the rest of Taiwan. Coupled with a sense of alienation from their fellow villagers (who were forced to point fingers at each other in their confessions) mention of what happened became taboo within the community, which was renamed ‘Guangming’ (光明里) by the government in order to erase memory of what took place.

In order to further ‘punish’ the people of Luku, the coal mines were shut down and roads in and out of the village weren’t maintained, forcing many to simply pack up and leave.

When the five-decade long Martial Law era came to an end in 1987, and the nation started to transition into a multi-party democracy, the crimes of the past started to come under scrutiny with the 2-28 Incident (二二八事件) given official recognition by the government in 1991, followed by the Luku Incident a few years later.

On December 29th, 2000, the 48th anniversary of the incident, the government unveiled the Luku Incident Memorial (鹿窟事件紀念牌) at the intersection of Luku, Shiding (石碇) and Nangang (南港) as a reminder of the horrible events and the hope that the healing process could finally start after so many years. 

Link: Luku Incident Memorial 鹿窟事件紀念碑 (Foreigners in Taiwan)

How does this terrible incident that took place 70 years ago relate to the Baiyun Police Station?

If you take into consideration the geographic location of Luku Village and the station, it’s easy to see why.

The station was used as a command center for some of the 15,000 armed security personnel who barricaded the village. It was also used for surveillance of the village for the month prior to the blockade.

Link: Gone but Not Forgotten: 7 Historic Sites to Learn More About the White Terror (Taiwan Scene)

Finally, as the village of Luku declined in the aftermath of the incident, the need for a police station in the area similarly became unnecessary ultimately sealing the fate of the building.

Today, the station, like the village above is an empty shell, but as we look back at the tragedies of the Luku Incident, it remains an important historic location with regard to remembering the mistakes of the past.  

Getting There

 

Address: #373 Xiding Road, Xizhi District, New Taipei City (新北市汐止區汐碇路373號)

GPS: 25.037180, 121.641720

Okay, so there is a bit of an issue with the address above, making getting to the area a little difficult.

Coincidentally, when I attempted to visit the station, I had thought I was going to have to jump a fence or something to get in, given the directions that I had read before departure.

The address listed above is officially the address for Linsen Elementary School (林森小學), but that’s not actually where you’re going to find the entrance when you arrive. It is essentially just the closest physical address to where you’ll find the police station given that it doesn’t have an address of its own. 

When you’re making your way up the very narrow mountainous Xiding Road (汐碇路), you’ll come across a sharp turn where you’ll find the entrance to the school on the left. If you’re arrived at the school, you’ll have already passed the entrance to the police station.

When the road curves, you’ll notice a stone set of stairs that ascends a tree-covered hill - from there you’ll simply walk up the hill for a minute until you arrive at the station. The problem for most people is that the station isn’t clearly marked on the road, so you really have to pay attention. 

If you’re driving a car or a scooter, simply input the address above into your GPS or Google Maps and you’ll be able to find your way there from wherever you’re going. A word of advice on that matter though, if you’re driving a car and you pass the entrance to the police station, it’s going to be quite difficult to turn around on the very narrow road. You’re going to have to pay close attention to your GPS and when you see the road start to curve just before you arrive at the elementary school, pull over on the side of the road where there is a grassy area that allows visitors to park. 

If you’re relying on public transportation to get to the police station, you’re in luck as there is amazingly a bus that services the (somewhat obscure) area. That being said, the bus doesn’t come all that often so you’re likely to find yourself waiting around for a while if you take that option. 

The bus is #F903 from Xizhi (汐止) to Tiandao Qingxiu Temple (天道清修院), and it only services the area seven times a day which means that you’re going to have to be very careful with your timing. 

From Xizhi Train Station (汐止火車站): 06:30 08:20 10:00 12:00 13:30 15:30 17:30

From Tiandao Qingxiu Temple (天道清修院): 07:10 09:15 10:40 12:40 14:10 16:10 18:10 

Not wanting to rely on the bus, I rented a GoShare from Nangang Train Station (南港車站) and made my way up the mountain and back by scooter. Unfortunately the only shared scooter services you’ll find in the Xizhi area are iRent and Wemo and they’re few and far between. 

If you were brave you could also rent a Youbike and make your way up the hill to the station, but the hill is quite steep and it’d be a pretty difficult ride, so I wouldn’t really recommend that method. 

The New Taipei City government has invested a bit of money on the preservation of this historic Japanese-era police station, but it’s certainly not a destination that is meant to attract a lot of tourists.

If you find yourself in the area hiking one of the trails, then you should probably make the effort to stop by to check it out, however I don’t think many people are as invested in these things as I am and aren’t going to make a special effort to travel all the way there just to check it out.