Taiwanese Tradition

Jiantian Historic Temple (劍潭古寺)

No matter where you go in Taiwan, it’s highly likely that you’ll encounter a 7-11 or a temple along the way - finding either is about as simple as finding a cup of coffee, and when you’re a tourist, you’re blessed with a multitude of choices to compete for your precious, but limited travel time.

For most people, visiting one or two of what are considered Taipei’s ‘Top Three’ temples is more than enough ‘temple-time’ during a short visit to Taiwan, but there are a number of impressive places of worship in the capital, as well as around the country, where tourists can spend time learning more about the history and culture of this country than they ever will in most of its museums.

I’ve been writing about Taiwan for almost a decade now, and even though I’ve spent a considerable amount of time recommending that people travel outside of the capital in order to better understand, and enjoy all that this beautiful country has to offer, it’s also important to face the fact that not every tourist has the opportunity, or the time to make their way down south. So even though I’d personally highly recommend anyone who visits Taiwan to pay a visit to Tainan’s Confucius Temple, its Grand Mazu Temple or Lukang’s Longshan Temple over most of the places of worship on the ‘Top Three’ list above, like I said, not everyone has the ability to leave Taipei.

Fortunately, there are a number of historic places of worship within the Greater-Taipei area that wonderfully compliment the city’s so-called ‘Top Three’ temples, so if you’ve discovered, like I have, an interest in visiting this sort of destination, here are some of the others I recommend checking out while you’re in town:

Today, I’m going to introduce another one of the city’s more prominent places of worship, and one that should be on your list of places to visit if you have some extra time while you’re in town. Boasting a history that is arguably longer than any other place of worship in Taipei, there’s certainly something special about this temple, but to tell the truth, it’s also somewhat of a confusing place as even locals have a difficult time understanding its significance.

Most commonly referred to either as Jiantan Temple (劍潭寺), or Jiantan Historic Temple (劍潭古寺), what I personally find interesting about this temple is the addition of the word “ancient” or “historic” (古) to its title in both Chinese and in English. There are surprisingly very few places of worship in Taiwan that make the concerted effort to put the word ‘historic’ directly in their name - although in some cases I think they’d prefer you just assume that’s the case - nevertheless, as one of Taipei’s ‘first’ places of worship, this one holds a special place within the history of the city.

The other thing that I think is important to point out about the name of this temple is the name ‘Jiantan’ (劍潭), which is probably confusing for tourists who might not be so familiar with Taipei’s geography. These days, the name ‘Jiantan’ is more or less synonymous with the Jiantan MRT Station (劍潭捷運站), which is home to Shilin Night Market (士林夜市), another one of Taipei’s most popular tourist destinations. Unfortunately, if you’re thinking that a visit to this temple could be combined with a visit to the night market, you might be disappointed. It’s actually not that close.

Never fear, though, as I move on below, I’ll provide a detailed explanation of the temple’s confusing history, how you can get there, all of which should help anyone who reads this better understand the temple, its special architectural design, and ultimately the history of the area we refer to as ‘Jiantan’ today. Before I start though, I have to say that even though this temple is one of the city’s oldest places of worship, it unfortunately doesn’t receive as much attention as it deserves, and very little has been written about it in the English-language, so I hope this article answers any questions you might have about it.

Jiantan Temple (劍潭古寺)

Legend has it that during the 17th Century, while Koxinga (鄭成功) and his army were sailing up the Keelung River, on their way to remove the Dutch from the island, they came upon a sudden and massive storm caused by river serpents. Attempting to prevent them from going any further, the storm was so violent that many in the army wanted to turn around. Koxinga, being the ever-so-clever pirate and experienced captain, was undeterred by the serpent’s interference in his plans, drew his sword and subdued the serpent. However, while in the midst of the fierce battle, his ‘sword’ was lost in the deep pool of water where the serpent lived.

For those of you who are unaware, the words “jian” (劍) and “tan" (潭) when put together basically translate as “Sword Pool” or “Sword Pond,” so even though the Koxinga legend is just local folklore, he was such a prolific figure in Taiwan’s history that a story about him mistakenly dropping his sword into a pool of water was reason enough to give a place a name.

Obviously, when it comes to the origin of the name, historians point to factual events that took place between Dutch traders, and the local indigenous people, but with regard to this temple, the legend of Koxinga is of particular note as you’ll discover later.

Its important to note that there was once a pond along the banks of the Keelung River that had been referred to as “Jiantan” for several hundred years. Located at a point of the river where the it curves between the areas we know today as Dazhi (大直) and Shilin (士林), that pond has since disappeared due to river diversion projects that sought to control water levels and prevent parts of the city from flooding during typhoons.

Today, the area we refer to as Jiantan covers several hundred hectares of land within the city, and even has a mountain that shares the same name.

Link: Jiantan Mountain (劍潭山)

Jiantan Temple during the Japanese-era

If one legend weren’t enough, another explains that in 1634 (崇禎7年), a monk named Huarong (僧侶華榮和尚) was dispatched from his monastery on Putuo Mountain (普陀山) to deliver a stone statue of Guanyin to Taiwan. Arriving in Taiwan at the port in Tamsui (淡水), he continued south on the road to Keelung (基隆), but along the path he encountered a massive red snake that was blocking the way. Personally, I’m not particularly a huge fan of snakes, and if I encountered one while hiking in Taiwan, I’d likely turn around, but for Huarong, this was deemed as an auspicious event.

Note: The number ‘eight’ is an auspicious number for Buddhists, referring to either the Dharma Wheel (法陀) or the Eight Great Bodhisattvas.

Instead of taking off like I would have done, he set up camp for the night where the Buddha appeared before him in his dreams and instructed him to go to the local port (probably in Bangka), and solicit donations from eight merchant captains. When he woke up, he made his way to the port where he came across the eight ships in his dream and when the merchants on the ships heard his story, they donated graciously to his cause. With the money donated by the local merchants, Huarong had a thatched hut built on the location where he came across the red snake, and that became the home of the Guanyin Statue, instead of its original destination in Keelung.

Later, in the early eighteenth century, the thatched hut, which had become known as the Guanyin Pavilion (觀音亭) was replaced by a more formal temple, known as the “Western Temple” (西方寶剎). That name, however, wasn’t one that would remain for very long as the temple was renamed Jiantan Temple (劍潭寺) in 1746 (乾隆11年).

Over the next century, Jiantan Temple became one of the more prominent Buddhist temples in northern Taiwan, resulting in a number of restoration and expansion projects to accommodate the number of monks who came to serve at the temple. Then, when the abbot of the Bangka Longshan Temple (艋舺龍山寺) took administrative control of the temple, he once again oversaw another expansion project that would not only benefit Jiantan Temple, but Longshan Temple as well with monks being able to travel back and forth between two of northern Taiwan’s most important temples.

For the next half century, things more or less stayed the same at the temple, but when the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895 (明治28年), the situation changed almost overnight. When the Governor General of Taiwan, Kodama Gentaro (兒玉源太郎) requested monks from the Rinzai school (臨濟宗) of Zen Buddhism to come to Taiwan to promote Japanese Buddhism, the influence of Japanese-style Buddhism started taking over on the island, and Jiantan Temple was promptly converted into a Myoshin Temple (妙心寺).

Link: Huguo Rinzai Temple (臨濟護國禪寺)

The interesting thing to keep in mind was that during the Meiji Restoration (明治維新), which started decades before the Japanese took control of Taiwan, Buddhism was classified by the government as a source of foreign interference. It was during this time that the more than a thousand year old tradition of fusion between Buddhism and Shinto were forcibly separated with the Buddhist temples that were constructed next to Shinto Shrines torn down. Here in Taiwan, though, Buddhism, had a long established a foothold on the island thanks to places of worship like Jiantan Temple, thus they became one of the tools that the Japanese authorities used to help bring the two peoples together.

Ironic given that Buddhism was suppressed back in Japan.

From the outset, the Japanese brought Buddhist monks with them to serve roles within the military as ‘chaplain-missionaries’, offering spiritual guidance during the initial years of the occupation. In addition to serving the military, the monks began to construct language schools and charity hospitals where they would focus on improving the lives of average Taiwanese citizens as well as promoting Japanese-style Buddhism. Over the next few decades, the temple continued to grow, and between 1918 and 1924, the temple was completely reconstructed, making use of modern construction techniques to ensure its longevity. The irony however was that just over a decade after the rebuild was completed, the temple was then forced to relocate due to an expansion project at the Taiwan Grand Shrine (臺灣神宮), which was also located on Jiantan Mountain (劍潭山) to the rear of the temple.

With insufficient funds available for the construction of a new temple, the administration came up with a plan to have the buildings completely deconstructed, and then reconstructed with the materials that could be salvaged in a new location. Migrating several kilometers away to the Dazhi (大直) area, the temple was carefully put back together again. However, the new plot of land that was allocated for the temple wasn’t nearly as larger as the original space, so alterations had to be made, and as you may have noticed from the historic photo above, it is considerably smaller today.

In its current location for nearly a century, Jiantan has been restored several times, repairing elements of the temple that have allowed it to remain intact while also bringing it back to life by refining the building’s decorative elements which were once its defining features.

As one of Taipei’s first major places of worship, predating many of the capital’s other major temples, Jiantan Temple has a long and storied history and while it’s not uncommon for places of worship to be moved to a new location, the experience of deconstructing the temple and sending putting it back together in another location is reminiscent of the nearby Lin An Tai Mansion (林安泰古厝), which had a similar experience.

In 2004 (民國93年), Jiantan Temple was officially recognized by the Taipei City Government under the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act (文化資產保存法) as a protected heritage building (歷史建築).

Link: 臺北市歷史建築列表 (List of Taipei City Protected Heritage Buildings)

Whether you refer to this temple as Jiantan Temple (劍潭寺) or Jiantan Ancient Temple (劍潭古寺), it’s up to you, but one of the things that sets this one apart from many of the other historic temples around Taipei is that it features a little park where it proudly displays its history. Some of the objects within the park, mostly stone tablets and pillars are things that you probably won’t see anywhere else in the capital, but are much more common in Tainan where historic temples are found on almost every street corner. If you visit the temple, I highly recommend you take some time to check out some of the objects on display, even though they are admittedly pretty old and in some cases the words that have been etched on the stone have started to fade.

Deities Enshrined at Jiantan Temple

As you saw from the history detailed above, from the outset, Jiantian Temple was dedicated to Guanyin (觀音), the Chinese version of Avalokiteśvara, the Buddha of Compassion. With a statue brought directly from Putuo Mountain (普陀山), one of China’s four sacred Buddhist mountains, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise to anyone that the figures enshrined within the temple are for the most part, Buddhist. That being said, similar to what you’ll experience if you visit Bangka’s Longshan Temple, which is also primarily a Buddhist place of worship, over the years, figures from Chinese folk religion have been added over the years to the shrine. In Taiwan, this is something that has become quite common, so within the temple you’ll also find shrines dedicated to ‘deities’ who you won’t traditionally find in Buddhist temples elsewhere, especially in other countries where Buddhism is the predominant religion.

  • Guanyin (觀世音菩薩) - As noted earlier, Jiantan Temple was (historically) dedicated primarily to the Buddha of Compassion, Guanyin (觀音), one of the most prolific Buddhist figures in Taiwan. Within the shrine room, you’ll find several different statues dedicated to different incarnations of Guanyin, with two large statues of a sitting Guanyin on either side of the main shrine. The original statue has since been moved to a new location within the main shrine and is somewhat difficult to see amongst the crowd of Buddhist figures in the main shrine. The most important difference between the various statues of Guanyin is that the original is regarded as a ‘Child-Bearing Guanyin’ (送子觀音). In front of the historic statue, you’ll find a version of a sitting Guanyin and as is usually the case, she is accompanied by her two acolytes, a pair of children who went to her side while she was meditating at Mount Putuo, Longnu (龍女) and Shancai (善財童子).

  • Shakyamuni Buddha (釋迦牟尼) - In one of the most recent changes to the ‘ancient’ temple, a statue of Shakyamuni Buddha was added to the main shrine in the post-war period. The jade statue was added shortly after the Foguangshan Organization took over administrative control of the temple, which is something I’ll talk briefly about below. The statue holds a ‘seal’ (降魔印) for subjugating demons. The interesting thing about the statue is that its appearance isn’t typical for a Chinese-style Buddha statue. It appears more as if it came from South East Asia, more specifically the Myanmar area. It possibly came to Taiwan with Chinese refugees from the Yunnan region, but I’m not particularly sure about its origin. During my visit to the temple, I inquired about the design of the statue, and the person who I was talking to was surprised that I could tell the difference between an image of the Buddha from Myanmar compared to one that you’d typically find in Taiwan, but the explanation I received as to its origin wasn’t particularly convincing, and its likely that there were some politics involved that they didn’t really want to mention.

  • The Prince of Yanping (延平郡王) - Looking back to the legends of the naming of Jiantan, you might remember that one of the local folklore stories claims that Koxinga (鄭成功) threw his sword into the pond to dispatch a violent serpent that was preventing them from advancing. What I didn’t mention was that Koxinga would later go on to defeat the Dutch and proclaim a kingdom of his own in the south of Taiwan, known as the Kingdom of Tungning. Given that Koxinga’s legend shares a relationship with the local area, and his being deified in Taiwan after his death, it shouldn’t be a big surprise that there is a shrine dedicated in his honor at the temple. When you find a shrine dedicated to Koxinga in Taiwan, he’ll either be referred to as the Prince of Yanping (延平郡王), a title bestowed upon him by a Ming Emperor, or Kaishan Shengwang (開山聖王). Interestingly, if you climb Jiantan Mountain to the rear of the temple, you’ll find an entire temple dedicated to Koxinga, known as the Taipei Koxinga Temple (成功廟開臺聖王).

  • The Eighteen Arhats (十八羅漢) - On either side of the Main Hall, you’ll find wood-carved representations of the ‘Eighteen Arhats’, who are basically like the twelve disciples of Jesus. The original followers of the Buddha, the ‘Arthats’ are figures each of whom has attained enlightenment, but have dedicated their lives to being reincarnated on earth until everyone attains enlightenment. A common image in Taiwan, you’ll find nine of the arhats on each side of the shrine, and each of them appears quite differently, so you might want to take a moment to look at them as they are all interesting characters.

With regard to the statues in the shrine room, there has been somewhat of an unresolved controversy in recent years as the administration of the temple is now overseen by the large and powerful Foguangshan (佛光山) organization. The controversy revolves around a differing outlook between the followers of the original temple and the new organization that took over. Long story short, the main shrine was originally dedicated to Guanyin, but it was adjusted to provide a seat to the Shakyamuni Buddha, instead.

The historic statue of Guanyin was thus moved to a level below the Buddha, which, angered the followers of the temple. Likewise, some of the other statues of Guanyin that were originally in the temple were moved outside of the temple where they would get rained on and polluted from dirty air.

In the time since the controversy, which made headlines across the country, changes have been made to bring the statues of Guanyin back inside the temple, but the main shrine continues to place the Buddha in the main seat, which doesn’t particularly reflect the history of the temple.

Link: 主神換位 劍潭古寺主位觀音變佛陀 (TVBS)

Jiantan Ancient Temple Timeline

Obviously, Jiantan Temple couldn’t be considered an “ancient” temple if it didn’t have a long history. As one of the first Buddhist places of worship in Taipei, there is clearly a long and interconnected history that coincides with the development of Taiwan’s capital into the high-tech economic powerhouse that it is today. That being said, the history of the temple tends to be a little confusing, and not very well detailed in either Chinese or English. I’ve done my best to put together a list of events with regard to the temple’s history that should give readers an idea of the timeline of events over the past three centuries of its history.

Click the dropdown below to read more:

  • •1634 (崇禎7年) - Buddhist Monk Huarong (僧侶華榮和尚), travels to Taiwan from his monastery on the famed Putuo Mountain (普陀山) to welcome a stone statue of Guanyin to the island.

    •1718 (康熙57年) - A Buddhist temple named the ‘Western Temple’ (西方寶剎) was established along the banks of the Keelung River with Jiantan Mountain to its rear.

    1746 (乾隆11年) - Jiantan Temple (劍潭寺) is officially established.

    1773 (乾隆38年) - The temple goes through its first period of restoration.

    1800 (家慶5年) - The temple goes through another period of restoration.

    1836 (道光17年) - The temple goes through a period of expansion, making space for an official residence for the monks who stayed on-site.

    1843 (道光24年) - The abbot of Longshan Temple in Bangka assumes administrative control over the temple, and materials are donated to once again expand and restore the grounds.

    1895 (明治28年) - The Japanese Empire takes control of Taiwan.

    1899 (明治32年) - During the Japanese era, the temple became a Myoshin Temple (妙心寺), part of the Rinzai Sect (臨濟宗) of Japanese Buddhism.

    1914 (大正3年) - The monks living at the temple initiate a fundraising campaign to have the temple reconstructed.

    1918 (大正7年) - With the fund raising campaign completed, famed craftsman Chen Yingbin (陳應彬) is contracted to oversee a complete overhaul and redesign of the temple.

    1924 (大正13年) - The reconstruction project on the temple is completed, with a brand new traditionally Chinese-style design fused with Japanese elements and construction techniques.

    1937 (昭和12年) - Shortly after the expensive reconstruction of the temple is completed, an expansion project at the nearby Taiwan Grand Shrine (台灣神宮) forces the temple to relocate to another location a short distance away. Due to a lack of funds, the temple is more or less deconstructed, and then reconstructed in its original location.

    1945 (民國34年) The Second World War comes to an end and the Republic of China takes control of Taiwan

    1978 (民國67年) - A restoration project takes place, repairing and restoring some of the aging elements of the temple, and replacing the roof tiles with Taiwanese-style yellow tiles (黃色琉璃瓦).

    2004 (民國93年) - The temple is officially recognized as a protected heritage building (歷史建築).

    2007 (民國96年) - A restoration project takes place that restores the shape and design of the roof to its original 1924 design and all of the original decorative elements are carefully reproduced to reflect the original appearance of the temple.

    2017 (民國106年) - A newly constructed Guanyin Shrine is consecrated within the temple.

Architectural Design

The story of Jiantan Temple’s architectural design is a bit of a complicated one, and is something that you may have noticed in the timeline above has been altered several times, throughout its three-century long history. Over the years, the temple has been renovated, expanded, restored, reduced in size, and ultimately moved to an entirely new location.

Fortunately, thanks to the dedication of Japanese-era photographers, we have a pretty good idea of how it originally appeared prior to its migration, as you’ll have seen in some of those photos above. I’m not going to spend too much of your time talking about the temple’s past glory, or what is missing. Instead, I’m only going to focus on what you’ll experience when you visit today, which itself is a beautiful place of worship, full of complex design and decorative elements, some of which are uncommon in Taipei today.

If we take into consideration that the temple migrated to its current location during the Japanese-era, you’ll also discover that even though it maintains many traditional Taiwanese temple features, it is also a case-study in the fusion of Taiwanese-Japanese design of the era, which makes it quite special.

As I mentioned earlier, when the temple was forced to migrate, they lacked the necessary funds to construct an entirely new building. Thus, it was decided that instead of demolishing the original temple that they would have it deconstructed as carefully as possible in order to recycle the original materials to bring it back to life. Unfortunately, due to a lack of space on the plot of land that was allocated to the temple, and the difficulty of deconstructing the original, the end-result was a temple that was considerably smaller than the original.

The current design retains much of the original wood and stone that was used to construct the temple, which have been recycled. The size of the building is officially measured in ‘bays’ (開間), an ancient style of measurement that you won’t see mentioned very often in Taiwan these days, except for at historic places of worship like this. Essentially a ‘bay’ was the space between columns that held up the roof. Generally-speaking that was about 3.6 meters in length. Using this method, Jiantan Temple is officially eleven bays in length (面寬十一開間), which makes it just about 40 meters (131 feet) wide.

Keeping with the traditional design of a Hokkien-style temple, the facade of Jiantan Temple resembles that of the Front Hall (前殿) at Lukang’s famed Longshan Temple (鹿港龍山寺) in that it features a ‘Five Door Hall” (五門殿) style of design. In this style of design, there is a central wing that features the temple’s three main doors, with separate ‘dragon’ and ‘tiger’ wings (龍虎翼廊) on either side. Both of the wings feature a Swallow-Tail Roof (燕尾屋脊), which are equal in height, while the central portion is much higher. This style of roof, which is indicative of Hokkien-style architectural design differs from the typical style of ‘hip-and-gable’ roof that you’ll find at many Chinese, Japanese or Korean-style Buddhist temples. Yet it is one of the most common styles of architectural design with regard to the historic temples, mansions and ancestral halls around Taiwan.

Essentially, a ‘Swallow-Tail Roof’ is a roof that features an upward-curving ridge, resembling the tail of a swallow, and is typically adorned with a number of decorative elements, which are most often porcelain carvings (剪瓷雕). Depending on the amount of cash you have available, and how much you want to show off your wealth, this style of roof could be either single or dual-layered to add even more complexity. In this particular case, you might think with the varying heights between the wings and the central portion of the building that it is dual-layered, but it’s actually only a single-layer roof as the roofs over the wings are independent of the other. Nevertheless, despite the curvature of each of the roofs being one of their key features, you’ll notice that the mid-section is the most prominent as the two wings only feature half-curves, and neither of them reach as high as the mid-section.

One area where the Hokkien-style Swallow-Tail roof resembles that of a hip-and-gable roof is that the roof eclipses the base of the building in size, extending well beyond the front of the building. Thus, to help support the weight of the roof, you’ll find a number of pillars used for support both within the interior and on the exterior as well. The most prominent of these support pillars are located on either side of the middle door, and are beautifully-carved stone dragons that encircle the columns.

Link: Hokkien Architecture (Wiki)

While the temple may seem somewhat subdued in its design from afar, the devil is really in its finer details as the closer you look, the more exquisite you’ll discover its decorative elements are thanks to the 2007 restoration work that went into the temple (mentioned on the timeline above). It was at this time that the yellow cylindrical bamboo-like tiles (燒筒板瓦) that covered the roof were completely replaced as were almost all of the cut-and-stick decorations (剪黏), which are integral to Hokkien-style design.

The newly-designed decorative elements were part of a long research project that ultimately restored the original elements that you would have found at the original temple, when it was still in its original location. In this case, the temple contracted Pan Kundi (潘坤地), a master craftsman who is most well-known for his contributions to the restoration of Dalongdong’s Bao-An Temple (大龍峒保安宮), a Taiwanese national treasure, and recognized by UNESCO for its contribution to the preservation of cultural heritage.

One of the problems that might arise when you visit the temple today is that the ‘finer details’ mentioned above are abundant, and you may find yourself spending quite a bit of time looking at the decorative elements on top of the ridges, between the ridges, and along the ends of each of the them and contemplating their meaning. Never fear, I’ll do my best to answer some of those questions with the help of my telephoto lens!

Starting with the more obvious design elements, you’ll notice the ‘Double Dragon Pagoda’ (雙龍寶塔) directly in the middle of the apex of the roof. This is a decorative element that is common at Buddhist temples, and represents a number of important things - First, it is used to ward off evil spirits and fire, but it also represents ‘filial piety’ and ‘virtue’. Another way of interpreting it is by explaining that ‘pagodas’ were traditionally buildings where Buddhist texts were kept, so having the dragons encircling the pagoda in this way is a way of ‘protecting the Buddha’ or ‘precious things’.

The next thing you’ll probably notice is that on each of the ridges, there is a dragon-like creature facing toward the pagoda. In fact, this creature is referred to as an “Aoyu” (鰲魚), and is basically a carp that is in the process of transforming into a dragon featuring the head of a dragon and the body of a fish. Similar to the Dragon-Pagoda’s nature of helping to ward off fire or other disasters, the Aoyu are known for their ability to ‘swallow fire and spit water’ meaning that they’re also there to offer protection to the temple.

Conveniently located just under the two Aoyu in the mid-section, you’ll find one of the ‘Four Heavenly Kings’ (四大天王) accompanying them. Known as important Buddhist figures with regard to ‘protection’, in Mandarin, the names of the kings go together to form the idiom “fēngtiáoyǔshùn” (風調雨順), or “seasonable weather with gentle breeze and timely rain,” and by this point you’re probably wondering just how often temples burn to the ground. With the amount of candles and incense that are burnt in these temples, it probably shouldn’t be too surprising that it does, unfortunately, happen from time to time.

Two of the four Heavenly Kings on the far left and right.

The design of each of the kings is slightly different, but its important to offer a bit of detail:

  1. Virulhaka (增長天王) - holding a jeweled double-edged sword

  2. Vessavana (多聞天王) - holding a jeweled umbrella

  3. Dhatarattha (持國天王) - holding a pipa (a traditional musical instrument)

  4. Virupakkha (廣目天王) - holding a dragon in his hand

Link: Four Heavenly Kings (Wiki)

Once again, looking carefully along the Xishi Ridge (西施脊), the flat part of the top ridge, you’ll find some pretty intricate decorative elements in the space between the Four Heavenly Kings. Directly under the Dragon Pagoda, there is a mural that depicts the folklore story of ‘Guanyin conquering the phoenix’ (老古板的古建築之旅). The story, which originated in the Song Dynasty (宋朝), is a popular one in Taiwan that has been converted into a Taiwanese opera, which is often performed outside of temples. In the story, “Dapeng” (大鵬金翅明王), the Chinese manifestation of the Hindu deity Garuda turned into a human and came to earth to wreak havoc, forcing Guanyin to appear to make an appearance and back him under control. Legends regarding the mythical ‘Dapeng Phoenix’ appear throughout Chinese history, but in most of the stories, one of the commonalities is that it is often subservient to the Buddha or Guanyin.

One thing that confused me, and sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole looking for information, were the five animals located below the Guanyin mural. It is common to find ‘four’ animals depicted in this particular space within Taiwan’s temples, known as the ‘Auspicious Four Beasts’ (四祥獸), most often represented as a Tiger, Leopard, Lion and Elephant (虎豹獅象) - just like the so-called ‘Four Beasts Mountains’ in Taipei. Once again, as with the other decorative elements discussed so far, the presence of the beasts is meant to help suppress evil spirits and protect the temple. In this case, however, there are ‘Five Auspicious Beasts’ thanks to the inclusion of a Qilin (麒麟), a mythical Chinese chimera.

Link: Four Beasts Hiking Trail (四獸山步道)

Swallow-Tail roofs not only feature an upward-curving ridge at the apex of the roof but also often have eaves that descend from the ridge to the lower section of the roof where you’ll find a platform for additional decorative elements. Known in Taiwanese as the ‘paitoh’ (牌頭), you’ll find another set of elaborate murals at the end of each of the roof’s eaves.

There are two murals in the mid-section, and another one on each of the ends of the eastern and western wings. Two of the murals depict events from the life of the Buddha, while the other two are related to Guanyin.

Speaking of the wings, they feature similar decorative elements along their ridges, but in both cases are a bit more subdued, with simple depictions of peonies (牡丹), phoenixes (鳳), qilin (麒麟) and peacocks (孔雀).

Link: Animals & Mythical Creatures (Buddhist Symbols)

Moving on from the roof, located directly in front of the middle door in the centre of the building, you’ll find a beautifully designed Tiangong Incense Cauldron (天公爐) that features the words ‘Taipei Jiantan Historic Temple’ (台北劍潭古寺) carved on the bowl. The design here is slightly different than what you’d see at other places of worship in Taiwan as it is quite narrow compared to the cauldrons you’ll find at other temples. What remains the same is that you’ll find 'dragons grabbing pearls’ (雙龍戲珠) on either side and an octagonal-covered roof with three legs that represent a ‘tiger’ (寅), ‘horse’ (午) and ‘dog’ (戌), which are considered the ‘triad of heaven, earth and man’ (天地人).

Note: The ‘double dragons grabbing pearls’ (雙龍戲珠) are part of an ancient Chinese-language idiom that symbolizes humanity’s constant pursuit of happiness. It has also become an important image with regard to weddings as the harmony between husband and wife and mutual respect, humility and tolerance.

On either side of the cauldron you’ll find the beautifully-carved traditional stone dragon pillars (龍柱) that I mentioned earlier. The pillars, which aren’t from the original temple, are thought to be a product of the early 1900s, although you won’t find a date carved on them to prove that. Still, they’re well over a century old and have recently been given a bit of restoration. Featuring dragons that encircle each of the pillars. You’ll also find depictions of people and animals walking along each of the dragon's backs.

Directly in front of the cauldron, you’ll find a stone-carved Dragon Ramp (龍陞) between the ground and the platform in front of the doors. Also referred to as a ‘Royal Ramp’ (御路), the sloping ramp is reserved for the passage of royalty, or for whenever one of the statues has to be moved outside of the temple. Even though Taiwan doesn’t have any royalty, and the only royals to have ever visited the country were from the Japanese imperial family, these sloping ramps are a common feature among the temples you’ll find across the country.

Another common feature that the temple shares with most other places of worship in Taiwan is that there is a name plaque located above the middle door. The beautifully inscribed plaque (牌匾) features the temple’s name scripted in calligraphy and obviously if you take a look at it, it’s in pretty good shape, but in this case you can see the date it was placed, which was in August of 1981 (民國70年8月).

Speaking of recent additions, the shrine is currently home to lacquered wooden sliding panels with golden latticed windows. The wood-carved latticed windows (木柵窗格) don’t actually look like typical ‘windows’, but they feature intricately carved floral designs with birds and peacocks.

Finally, if you find yourself standing on the platform by the central door, you’ll discover that there are some really intricate and beautifully hand-carved wooden figures (木雕) that are used to decorate the trusses and eaves that connect to the pillars, which are instrumental in working together to help to support the weight of the roof. The carvings, which feature lions and murals, like the lattice windows below are all painted gold and make the exterior of the temple much more beautiful.

Before I move on to briefly describing the interior of the temple, I think it’s important to note that if you search for images of the temple online, you’re going to notice a stark difference between some of the photos you’ll find.

Prior to 2007, the temple looked considerably different, and very much more ‘plain’ that what you’ll see today. As I mentioned earlier, the design of the roof was completely changed to reflect the temple’s original design and it was during that restoration project that most of the decorative elements that I’ve described above were added. Given that the master craftsman mentioned above is known for not only his skills with traditional Hokkien cut-porcelain carvings (剪瓷雕), but also his wood-carving skills, it’s safe to say that all of the decorative elements that we enjoy today are thanks to his genius and hard work.

I won’t spend too much describing the interior of the temple, simply due to the fact that Hokkien-style Buddhist temples place an incredible amount of detail on the decorative elements of the exterior of the building while the interior is much more subtle. That being said, it has to be mentioned that, like the Lukang Longshan Temple, the temple features a beautifully designed ‘caisson’ (八卦藻井) in the main shrine room. Also known as a “Ba-Gua ceiling,” it would be an understatement to say that it is a masterpiece of architectural design. Octagonal in shape, each side of the caisson symbolizes eight symbols in Taoism that represent the fundamental principles of reality.

Somewhat difficult to describe properly, a caisson is basically a sunken layered panel in a ceiling that raises above the rest of the ceiling almost as if there were a dome above it. The layers of the caisson are often beautifully decorated and with a design at the center which in this case is just a painted flower that has a lamp hanging from the middle.

The most amazing thing to keep in mind about these caissons is that they are designed using expertly measured interlocking pieces that connect together in a way that means that neither beams nor nails are used to keep them in place. They simply lock together to form a six-layer deep spider-web of beauty. It takes a considerable amount of skill and patience to make one of these, so if you visit, one of the first things the people at the temple will do is make sure you take note of it.

As mentioned above, the interior of the temple is split into three sections with the main shrine in the middle. The wing to the left of the main shrine room is used for administrative purposes while the wing on the right is home to the Koxinga Shrine. The passage ways from both of the wings feature a couple of objects that should be noted. First, on the left wing, you’ll find a drum hanging within the passageway while on the right wing you’ll find a large stone bell, both of which are common within Buddhist temples as a way of indicating the time, attracting crowds, and announcing the beginning of preaching.

Finally, one last thing I’d like to point out is the ‘Dragon Altar’ (案桌) in the middle of the shrine - the altar features a painted dragon with the words ‘Jiantan Buddha’ (劍潭佛祖) on it. Likely one of the oldest parts of the current temple (save for the Guanyin statue), the altar dates back to the reign of Emperor Daoguang (道光) of the Qing Dynasty, placing it somewhere between 1821 and 1850. On either side of the altar, you’ll find some stone pillars with calligraphy engraved on each of them. Speaking to the history of the temple, they tell a story of how the migration of the temple to its current location wasn’t an optimal decision, but was forced upon them by the Japanese. I’d attempt to translate the text, but I have to admit that its beyond my level. Nevertheless, the sentiment is a bit salty.

The text is provided below for anyone interested:

Note:「寶劍劫灰塵爐火重新光大直,澄潭涵法雨川流終古擁觀音」and「庚辰劍潭古寺移築大直」

Getting There

 

Address: #6, Alley 805, Bei-An Road, Zhongshan District, Taipei

(臺北市中山區北安路805巷6號)

GPS: 25.085910, 121.554330

Conveniently located a short walk from an MRT station, visiting the Jiantan Historic Temple is actually quite straightforward, and is easily accessible for any tourist who’d like to visit. That being said, there are faster options than the MRT if you’re taking public transportation, so I’ll provide directions for both the MRT and the bus routes that will get you there below.

MRT

Located across the Keelung River from Taipei in Neihu’s Dazhi (大直) neighborhood, taking the MRT is obviously one of the most convenient methods of getting to the temple. That being said, even though the MRT drops you off pretty much at the temple’s doorsteps, its convenience doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the quickest way to get there as the Brown Line trains are considerably slower than the normal underground MRT, and you’ll likely have to pass by Songshan Airport on your way there.

Nevertheless, if your preferred method of transportation is to take the MRT, simply get yourself on the Brown Line either at Zhongxiao Fuxing (忠孝復興) or Nanjing Fuxing (南京復興), heading in the direction of Nangang Station (南港捷運站). Getting off the train at Jiannan Road Station (劍南路捷運站), you’ll take Exit #1 and walk straight along Beian Road (北安路) where you’ll notice Jingye Park (敬業公園) on your right and the temple about a minute away on the left.

Bus

Similarly, given that the Jiannan Road MRT Station is located next to the Miramar Shopping Mall (美麗華百樂園), famed for its giant roof-top ferris wheel, there are a number of bus routes that will help you get there just as easily as the MRT. The closest bus stop to the temple is the Jiannan Road Stop (捷運劍南路站), directly in front of the MRT Station, so if you end up taking a bus, the walking route to the temple follows the same route.

Given the popularity of the Miramar Shopping Center, there are far too many bus routes that service this bus stop, and since Internet links for these things in Taiwan are notoriously unstable, I’m not going going to link to each of the routes individually here. 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 Jiannan Road Stop: Neihu Express Line (內湖幹線), Red #3 (紅3), Blue #26 (藍26), #28, #33, #42, #72, #208, #222, #247, #256, #267, #268, #287, #556, #620, #646, #681, #683, #902, #957, #1801

Youbike

If you’re feeling adventurous, you can easily hop on one of Taipei’s convenient shared Youbikes and make your way along the Keelung River all the way to Dazhi where you’ll be able to park the bike in front of the Jiannan Road MRT Station and make your way to the temple. If you’d like to make use of a Youbike, one of the best routes would be to grab a bike at the Yuanshan MRT Station (圓山捷運站), and make your way along the Dajia Riverside Park (大家河濱公園) where you’ll cross the pedestrian section of the Dazhi Bridge (大直橋), and from there making your way toward the Jiannan Road Station. There are of course a number of routes that you could take to get there, though, so I recommend opening up Google Maps on your phone and mapping out a bike route from wherever you’re starting from!

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

Link: Youbike App - Apple / Android

To be frank, I don’t really spend very much time in the Neihu area of Taipei. I’ve visited most of Taipei’s most important places of worship over the years, but this temple was one that I’ve always had on my list, but took quite a while to actually get around to. It’s not that I didn’t think it was important, or that it should be high on the list of places that people should visit when they’re in town, I just personally only find myself in that area when I’m hiking along the Jiantan Mountain ridge. Nevertheless, if you find yourself in the city and the temples are of particular interest to you, I highly recommend checking out some of those listed above, and if you’ve still got time left, head over to this one to check it out as well!

I suppose that doesn’t particularly sound like a rousing endorsement of the temple, but I’m not sure how much appeals to most short-term tourists. I have to say, though, that the temple was a lot more beautiful than I expected, and if the photos in this article are any indication, you’re in for a treat if you visit, especially since its a much more quiet place of reflection than some of the other major temples that tourists visit.

References

  1. 劍潭古寺 (Wiki)

  2. 劍潭 (Wiki)

  3. 劍潭寺 | Jiantan Temple (台灣宗教文化地圖)

  4. 劍潭寺 (國家文化資產網)

  5. 劍潭古寺 (台灣好廟網)

  6. 劍潭古寺 (Tony的自然人文旅記)

  7. 巴字第974號:劍潭古寺 (地球上的火星人)

  8. 中山區 劍潭古寺 — 隱身於熱鬧商場旁之臺北盆地最早古剎,有段被迫搬遷的過往 (Mobile01)

  9. 剪黏藝術欣賞(五) 劍潭古寺 (老古板的古建築之旅)

  10. 劍潭古寺 (淡水維基館)

  11. Jiantan Temple (Travel Taipei)

  12. Hokkien architecture | 闽南传统建筑 (Wiki)


Keelung Martyrs Shrine (基隆忠烈祠)

One of my on-going projects over the past few years has been visiting and writing about Taiwan’s Martyrs Shrines, and if you’ve been reading this blog regularly, you’re likely aware that I’ve been doing so for a very specific reason. By now, it should be fairly obvious that when I visit these shrines, it doesn’t really have nothing to do with the purpose of the shrines, which are essentially propaganda tools of an authoritarian regime that has little to do with Taiwan.

My motivation for visiting is a little easier to understand and to put it simply, the majority of these so-called ‘Martyrs Shrines’ in Taiwan today were once the home of a Japanese-era Shinto Shrine, and whenever you visit one of them, you’re often able to find traces of that era of Taiwan’s history. 

To be fair, even though the Martyrs Shrines were a tool used by the Chinese Nationalists, the same could be said about Shinto Shrines, and the Japanese regime that controlled Taiwan for over five decades. Both are pretty good examples of how a foreign power attempted to forcibly convert the citizens of Taiwan into their loyal subjects. 

I just so happen to think Shinto Shrines are much more interesting - I’m sure not everyone feels the same way, and thats completely okay. 

I’ve already written extensively about these Shinto Shrines-turned-Martyrs Shrines, so today I’ll be continuing by adding another piece to the puzzle with the Keelung Martyrs Shrine, which was once home to the former Keelung Shinto Shrine. 

As is the case with most of Taiwan’s other former Shinto Shrines, the Keelung Martyrs Shrine continues to retain elements of the original shrine. Unfortunately there is very little information available online about either the Martyrs Shrine or the former Shinto Shrine, so taking into consideration that it was one of the earliest and most important Shinto Shrines in Taiwan, I’m going to delve pretty deep into describing its history below. 

Hopefully this article helps people learn a bit more about the shrine. 

Keelung Shinto Shrine (基隆神社 / きーるんじんじゃ)

I know, I’ve probably already made this claim several times already about other Shinto Shrines in Taiwan (but I really mean it this time), the Keelung Shinto Shrine was one of Taiwan’s prettiest shrines! 

Dating back to 1912 (明治45年), the shrine was constructed as a branch of the Kotohira Shrine in southwestern Japan’s Kagawa prefecture (香川縣) - one of Japan’s most historic shrines, known for its patronage of the sea, ship transport and sailors. 

Link: Kotohira-gu | 金刀比羅宮 (Wiki) 

Originally named, “Keelung Kotohira Shrine” (基隆金刀比羅神社 / きーるんことひらぐう), that was changed three years later in 1915 (大正4年) to “Kiirun Jinjya” (きーるんじんじゃ), or the Keelung Shinto Shrine (基隆神社). 

From the outset of the colonial era, Keelung, or “Kiirun” (きーるん) was one of the first areas in Taiwan where the Japanese set up official administrative agencies. This was in part due to the port, Taiwan’s northern-most, becoming instrumental in transporting people and supplies to the island, in addition to there already having an established, yet rudimentary railway link between the port and Taihoku (Taipei). 

With that in mind, in the early years of the colonial era, there would have been a considerable number of Japanese nationals living in the area, (or stopping by while passing through) bringing with them their knowledge and expertise as well as their cultural and religious practices. 

The Keelung of 1935

Prior to the construction of the Kotohira Shrine, a number of other Japanese religious buildings started to appear in the port area including the Jodo (淨土宗), Soto (曹洞宗) and Shingon (真言宗) Buddhist sects, in addition to a smaller Inari Shrine (稲荷神社). 

Interestingly, even though Shintoism essentially disappeared when the Japanese left Taiwan, the Japanese Buddhist tradition took hold, and continues to shape the Buddhist experience in Taiwan today. 

While there were a few small Shinto Shrines constructed in Keelung prior, none of them were large enough to take on the role of a ‘Guardian Shrine’ (產土神 / うぶすながみ), which meant that a larger shrine would have to be constructed in order to assist in maintaining a spiritual balance with all the development that was taking place around the port-city. 

So, in 1903 (明治36年), a group of Japanese businessmen, and the technicians behind the construction of the Kiirun Power Plant (基隆發電所) initiated a campaign to raise funds for the construction of the shrine, which took until at least 1910 (明治43年).

Planning for the shrine however met with considerable difficulty as the location chosen for its construction was located on state-owned land and was reserved as part of the colonial government’s urban renewal plans (市區改正) for Keelung. The plan, which required mass land-expropriation sought to re-shape the city and modernize it by improving roads, electrifying the area, ensuring that there was proper sanitation and sewage and providing access to running water.

Similar urban renewal projects like this took place in every major city and town across the island, and are today still considered by many historians to be one of the most beneficial aspects of the period of Japanese rule, as these ambitious projects reshaped Taiwan’s towns and cities, improved quality of life, and were instrumental in Taiwan’s modern development. Today, the success of many of these development projects can still be felt across the country as many areas have maintained the original urban planning of the Japanese-era and expanded upon it.

Link: 臺灣日治時期都市計畫 (Wiki) 

With the assistance of some powerful figures in the capital however, the application process to negotiate for the land was expedited within the Governor Generals office, but ultimately couldn’t be approved until the buildings that were previously constructed on the site were demolished, and the urban renewal was completed. In the meantime, fundraising and planning for the shrine continued and even though the application to build the shrine wasn’t ‘officially’ approved until 1911 (明治44年), the ceremonial ground-breaking ceremony was held a year prior.

It probably all sounds a bit confusing with the jumping back and forth, but there’s an important reason why they jumped the gun on the construction of the shrine before the application was formally approved.

This was because one of the founders of the shrine had to return to Japan to take part in a ceremonial ‘Bunrei’ (分靈) process in which a kami’s spirit is ‘divided’ and re-enshrined elsewhere. As mentioned above, the Keelung Shrine was originally meant to be a branch of the Kotohira Shrine, which means that they had to return to Kagawa Prefecture (香川縣) in Japan’s Shikoku Region (四國) to complete the process.

Link: Kanjo (分靈) | English / Japanese (Wiki)

When the kami arrived in Taiwan in 1912 (大正元年), a ceremony was held to allow it to officially take up residence within the shrine, but by that time construction had only been partially completed with only part of the Visiting Path (參道) and the Main Hall (本殿) completed. This was due to the fact that even after several years of fundraising, the money raised for the construction of the shrine pretty much dried up, and was in competition with the various other fundraising campaigns taking place in the area - most notably for the construction of Kiirun Community Hall (基隆公會堂).

Likewise, as mentioned above, one of the original reasons for the construction of the shrine was to build a “Guardian Shrine” for the port city, but as it was initially constructed as a branch shrine, it couldn’t serve the same purpose as a typical Prefectural Level Shrine due to the rigid set of rules that governs Japanese Shinto Shrines.

This is especially the case as the enshrined deity, Ōmononushi (大物主命), the same deity enshrined at the Kotohira Shrine back in Japan wasn’t the major type of kami that you’d expect at a shrine of that rank, and it was likely that only people from that area of Japan would contribute financially.

To solve this problem, it was decided to change the name of the shrine to the “Kiirun Jinjya” (きーるんじんじゃ), or the “Keelung Shinto Shrine” (基隆神社) in 1913 (大正1年) in order to gain more support, and donations from local residents. As fundraising efforts continued, the Hall of Worship (拜殿) was completed that same year and a longer list of kami took up residence inside, including Amaterasu, the Three Deities of Cultivation, Emperor Sutoku, and Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa. 

Unfortunately as construction on the shrine continued, disaster struck in 1914 (大正3年) when a typhoon blew through the area and destroyed parts of the shrine, forcing an expensive reparation and rebuild project that took place as the other parts of the shrine were still being built.

Given all of issues with fundraising, bureaucratic complications and typhoon damage, I guess it shouldn’t really surprise anyone that it took more than a decade to complete construction on the Keelung Shrine and have it fully opened to the public. 

Located on a steep hillside on the east-side of the port, the shrine faces in the opposite direction of the ocean and even though purchasing the land proved to be difficult, it was essentially what you’d consider the ideal location for a shrine of this nature. It was not only close to the port, but the commercial and residential areas of the city as well, it was easy to access, and more importantly was also in an area surrounded by the natural environment. 

If you weren’t already aware, Shinto Shrines are renowned for their impressive ability to blend in harmoniously with the natural environment around them, which shouldn’t really be all that surprising considering that it is a religion that worships deities related to nature. Similarity, the Shinto deities, or “kami” are almost always objects found in the natural environment such as animals, birds, rivers, mountains, trees, etc.

For the Shinto, the relationship with the natural environment is extremely important given that the earth can bring both blessing and disaster. It is thought that if the kami are worshipped adequately and in a responsible way, then they will bring good fortune to the world. If on the other hand they are disrespected or neglected, they will react violently or bring misfortune. Essentially, respect for the environment is one of the main tenets of Shintoism and the construction of these shrines never fails to keep that in mind. With over 80,000 shrines in Japan, Shintoism contributes to society providing ecological sanctuaries that can be enjoyed by all.

Before I talk about what you would have found at the Shrine while it was still around, lets take a few minutes to talk about the deities enshrined within:

Amaterasu (天照皇大神)

One of the children of the god and goddess of creation, Izanami (伊邪那美命) and Izanagi (伊邪那岐神), Amaterasu is one Shintoism’s most important deities. 

Known more formally as Amaterasu-Ōmikami (天照大御神), she is the goddess of the sun and the universe, and is considered to be the mythical ancestor of the Imperial House of Japan.

Enshrined at the Ise Grand Shrine (伊勢神宮) in Ise, Mie Prefecture (三重縣), worship of the goddess is often directly linked to worship of “Japan” itself, known as “Japanese Spirit”, or Yamato-damashii (大和魂).

This in itself was problematic during the period when State Shintoism was one of the tools used to fuel the militarism of the era, but worship of Amaterasu far predates all of that insanity as she has been one of the most important Shinto deities for more than thirteen centuries.

Given that most Shinto Shrines in Taiwan would have been home to an Amaterasu shrine, this was one of the reasons why the Chinese Nationalists were so keen on destroying the shrines, given her links to the militarism of the early 20th Century.

The Three Deities Of Cultivation (かいたくさんじん / 開拓三神)

The “Three Deities of Cultivation”, consist of three figures known for their skills with regard to nation-building, farming, business and medicine.

The three “Kaitaku Sannin” are as follows: 

  1. Ōkunitama no Mikoto (大國魂大神 / おおくにたまのかみ)

  2. Ōkuninushi no Mikoto (大名牟遲大神 / おおなむちのかみ)

  3. Sukunabikona no Mikoto (少彥名大神 / すくなひこなのかみ)

While these deities are also quite common within Japan’s Shinto Shrines, they were especially important here in Taiwan due to what they represented. Given Taiwan’s position as a new addition to the Japanese empire, ‘nation-building’ and the association of a ‘Japanese way of life’ was something that was being pushed on the local people in more ways than one. Likewise, considering the economy at the time was largely agricultural-based, it was important that the gods enshrined reflected that aspect of life. 

Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa (北白川宮能久親王)

Prince Yoshihisa, a western educated Major-General in the Japanese imperial army was commissioned to participate in the invasion of Taiwan after the island was ceded to the empire. 

Unfortunately for the Prince, he contracted malaria and died in either modern day Hsinchu or Tainan (where he died is disputed), making him the first member of the Japanese royal family to pass away outside of Japan in more than nine hundred years. 

Shortly after his death he was elevated to the status of a ‘kami’ under state Shinto and was given the name “Kitashirakawa no Miya Yoshihisa-shinno no Mikoto“, and subsequently became one of the most important patron deities here in Taiwan, as well as being enshrined at the Yasukuni Shrine (靖國神社) in Tokyo.

Link: Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa (Wiki) 

Coincidentally, sharing part of the same mountain as the former Keelung Shinto Shrine, you can find a monument that was erected in memorial for the Prince Yoshihisa. The monument isn’t really all that well advertised, but it wasn’t (completely) destroyed when the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan. It was however completely defaced and the Chinese characters that were written on the front of the monument have been filled in with cement.

That being said, the monument is another one of Keelung’s many Japanese-era structures that continue to exist and if you’re interested you should definitely take some time to visit.

Japanese Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa Monument (北白川宮能久親王紀念碑)

Address: #68, Alley #122 Zhongchuan Road, Keelung City (基隆市中正區中船路112巷68號)

Emperor Sutoku (崇德天皇) 

The inclusion of Emperor Sutoku as one of the kami enshrined at the Keelung Shrine was certainly an interesting and somewhat obscure choice, given his role as one of the Three Great Onryo of Japan (日本三大怨霊).

Emperor Sutoku (崇徳天皇/すとくてんのう) was the 75th Emperor of Japan, reigning from 1123 to 1142 during the Tenji (天治), Daiji (大治), Tensho (天承), Chosho (長承), Hoen (保延) and Eiji (永治) Periods. 

Although his reign as Emperor spanned a period of nineteen years, his time in power was considerably shorter given that he officially came to the throne at the age of three - This left the country governed under the stewardship of his father, Emperor Toba (鳥羽天皇), until Sutoku came of age. 

It’s unclear when that actually happened, but the Eiji era (1141 - 1142) when the Emperor was 22 years old would become the most eventful, and final years of his reign.

Considered a “bastard”, Sutoku was not well-liked by his “father”, Emperor Toba, who was forced to abdicate the throne when Sutoku was just three years old. Unfortunately for Sutoku, his true father, former Emperor Shirikawa (白河天皇) died in 1129 leaving Toba with a firm grip on the reigns of power.

The story of Emperor Sutoku is ultimately a sad tale that involves a life of alienation, emotional abuse and coercion resulting in his being forced to adopt Toba’s bastard son (in a situation similar to his own), early retirement, a failed attempt at retaking the throne and banishment to a distant province to live his life as a monk.

Sutoku passed away in 1164 having lived his final years as a monk, but after being disposed and humiliated, it is said that he was full of bitterness and rage. Prior to his death, legend has it that he bit off his own tongue and wrote holy manuscripts with his own blood, which he then sent back to Kyoto, imbuing them with his hatred for the imperial court. 

But by that time he was already persona-non-grata and was largely ignored. 

When he passed away, a series of strange events occurred, with storms, plagues, fires, droughts and earthquakes all taking place in the capital and resulted in a civil war that ended the dynasty. 

This is how Sutoku became known as one of the “Nihon San Dai Onryo”, or the “Three Great Demons of Japan,” along with Sugawara no Michizane (菅原道真) and Taira no Masakado (平将門).

According to Japanese folklore, an “onryo” (怨霊) is a kind of “yokai” (妖怪),or a demon that is considered to be a wrathful or vengeful spirit capable of causing harm to the world in an attempt to exact revenge against their enemies. This isn’t something that people in Japan really joke about, and as recent as 2012, Sutoku was blamed for an earthquake that took place in the Kanto region after an NHK drama depicted his transformation into a demon. 

Links: The Peculiar Life of Emperor Sutoku (Yabai) | Sutoku Tenno (Yokai) 

So why was Emperor Sutoku enshrined at the Keelung Shinto Shrine?

Well, in 1868 (明治元年), the first year of Emperor Meiji’s reign, it was commanded that Sutoku be enshrined as a kami at the Shiramine Shrine (白峯神宮) in Kyoto, which was seen as his return to the capital and an attempt to sooth the country’s most vengeful sprit. 

Shintoism is a complicated polytheistic religion with a myriad of deities hailing from both natural and supernatural world. Given that there are so many deities, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that there are those that are ‘good’ and those that are ‘bad’ in an attempt to better explain how the world works.

Kami are generally divided by their “mitama” (魂), or their ‘spirits’ into “Nigi-mitama” (和魂 / にきたま) and “Ara-mitama” (荒魂 / あらたま), essentially positive and negative. In the latter case, the “nigi-mitama” are often blamed for natural disasters, droughts, food shortages, war and suffering. So, in order to avoid misfortune, it is important to deal with any negative energy through pacification rites and worship.

This is why Emperor Meiji brought the remains of former Emperor Sutoku back to Kyoto and placed them within a shrine dedicated in his honor. Given the centuries of havoc brought on by the rage and bitterness of Sutoku, it was thought that bringing him back to the capital to give him the proper burial rites of an emperor would help to ease his path into becoming an honourable spirit.

Link: Mitama | 荒魂與和魂 (Wiki) 

Okay, so once again lets get back to the Keelung Shinto Shrine. 

Why would they enshrine one of Japan’s most vengeful spirits within the important port city? 

If that isn’t clear already, the pacification of these negative spirits is an important ritual for maintaining the safety and security of society. The inclusion of Emperor Sutoku within the Keelung Shrine was an attempt to ensure the safety of the port, which would have been one of the busiest in Taiwan at the time. It was especially important at the time because Emperor Meiji had only started the pacification process of the negative spirit a few decades prior to the construction of the shrine, and if more people worshipped him, less terrible things would happen.  

Ōmononushi (大物主命) 

Similar to the Three Deities of Cultivation mentioned above, Ōmononushi-no-kami (おほものぬし) is another one of Shintoism’s most important deities. Known literally as the ‘Great Thing Master’ or the ‘Great Spirit Master’, he is likewise considered the god of nation-building, agriculture, business, medicine and brewing.

More importantly in this case however, Omononushi is known as a patron spirit for seafarers. 

Dating as far back as the ‘pacification’ and development of the earth, the mythology of Omononushi was told as far back as 712CE in the Kojiki (古事記), but you’ll also find mention of him in other important books like the Shoki (日本書紀) and the Fudoki (風土記). 

So, even though he serves the same purpose as the gods mentioned above, his importance and power in the scope of Shintoism far exceeds them.

Link: Ōmononushi (Wiki) 

Architectural Design

The Keelung Shrine was constructed on a steep hillside and was beautifully layered with the traditional “Visiting Path” rising up not just one steep set of stairs, but two, culminating with the ‘Main Hall’ located on a third layer to the rear of the Hall of Worship. 

With this in mind, you’ll have to take into consideration how much effort it took to shape the land into the various layers for the construction of the shrine, as well as the genius it took to construct a drainage system that would allow rainwater from the mountain above to flow down the mountain, without causing any structural damage to the shrine. 

As the largest shrine in the Keelung area, the shrine would have featured all the bells and whistles of a typical Prefectural Level Shrine (縣社) and consisted of the following: 

  1. A Visiting Path or “sando” (參道 /さんどう)

  2. Stone Lanterns or “toro” (石燈籠/しゃむしょ)

  3. Stone Guardian Lion-Dogs or “komainu” (狛犬/こまいぬ)

  4. Shrine Gates or “torii” (鳥居 /とりい)

  5. A Sacred Fence or “tamagaki” (玉垣 / たまがき)

  6. An Administration Office or “shamusho” (社務所/しゃむしょ) 50坪

  7. A Purification Fountain or “chozuya” (手水舍 /ちょうずや) 1.5坪

  8. A ‘Mikoshi Storehouse’ or “shinyosha” (神輿舎 / しんよしゃ) 3坪

  9. A Hall of Worship or “haiden” (拜殿 /はいでん) 300坪

  10. An Offertory Hall or “heiden” (幣殿 / へいでん)

  11. A Main Hall or “honden” (本殿/ほんでん) 110坪

  12. A massive cannon (戰利砲)

What we know about the architectural design of the shrine today comes from a combination of the layout that remains today, and the assistance of historic photos and records.

Starting with the ‘Visiting Path’ (參道), there was a large Shrine Gate (一の鳥居) on ground level. You’ll still find a shrine gate in the same spot today, but it has since been converted into a Chinese-style gate. Once you passed through the gate you’d be met with two large stone-guardian lion-dogs (狛犬) standing on pedestals on either side. The stairs that led up the hill to the shrine were laid with concrete and both sides featured stone lanterns (石燈籠) that were set up on pedestals. 

Once you reached the top of the first set of stairs, you’d find a second Shrine Gate (二の鳥居), and then an open space where there was an Administration Office (社務所) and a Purification Fountain (水手舍) on its right.

And (from the 1930s on), a giant twenty-eight ton cannon on its left. 

The path would have continued to the right of the Administration Office where you’d reach a third Shrine Gate (三の鳥居), with two giant stone lanterns, and a much wider set of stairs that led to the second level. When you reached the top of this set of stairs you would have found the final Shrine Gate (四の鳥居), and two smaller Stone Guardian Lion-Dogs (狛犬) on the left and right side - both of which still exist today.

Often appearing as a male and female, the ‘komainu’ are only distinguishable only by their facial expressions, with the male “a-gyo” (阿型) having an open mouth and the female “un-gyo” (吽形) having a closed mouth. The male guardian is located on the left and the female on the right. If you look closely on their pedestals on the bottom you’ll discover that they date back to 1917 (大正8年), and the names of the people who donated them to the shrine. The fact that both of them continue to exist today in itself is somewhat of a miracle. 

Link: Komainu Lion Dogs (Japan Visitor)

Once you pass through the shrine gate you would have been met directly with the beautiful ‘Hall of Worship’, otherwise known as the ‘oratory’ or the “haiden” (拜殿). The hall was constructed in an architectural style reminiscent of the Maidono Hall (舞殿) at the nearly 1400 year old Yasaka Shrine (八坂神社 / やさかじんじゃ) in Kyoto.

Link: Yasaka Shrine (Japan Guide)

Elevated off of the ground on a concrete base, the architectural style of this Hall of Worship allowed it to stand apart from many of the other shrines around Taiwan in that it was an open-air building designed in the seihoukei haiden (正方形拝殿) style. Held up with a network of pillars around the perimeter of the building, it featured a beautiful Irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造) hip-and-gable roof and given that it was an open-air building, it featured an enclosed Offertory Hall or “Heiden” (幣殿) connected via a passageway at the rear.

<PHOTO> 

Based on historic photos of the shrine, it appears that the overall design of the hall was likely constructed using the “ishinoma-zukuri” (石の間造) style that allowed both the Haiden and the Heiden to be connected by a passageway known as “ishi-no-ma” (石の間). This would have been an instrumental design feature that allowed the main building to maintain its open-air design as well as distributing the weight of the massive roof with the help of the network of pillars. 

It was also pretty important for the elaborate shape of both of the roofs as the larger roof on the front part of the building featured the ‘four-sided’ Irimoya hip-and-gable roof, while the smaller Heiden building to the rear featured a two sided kirizuma nagare-zukuri (切妻流造) gable-style roof, creating a three-dimensional flowing design. 

One of the interesting things about the old photos of the shrine were the purple curtain/banners (御神幕) that surrounded the open-air sections of the Hall of Worship. Each section featured a crest that was used to represent Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines (臺灣神社徽) consisting of a combination of the Taiwan Crest (台字徽 / たいわん) and the fourteen-petal chrysanthemum flower, known as the kikumon (菊紋).

<PHOTO> 

For a look at some of the absolutely beautifully designed crests used in Taiwan during the colonial era, check out the website linked below which features descriptions for quite a few of them. 

Link: 日治臺灣主要都市市徽一覧

Finally, to the rear of the Hall of Worship, there was another steep set of stairs that led directly to the Main Hall or the “Honden” (本殿), which was off-limits to the public. Elevated above the rest of the shrine, the Hall of Worship was where the deities were enshrined and would have only been accessible to the priests who lived and worked at the shrine. 

The small building featured a beautiful kirizuma-zukuri roof (切妻造), which is best described as a roof that looks like ‘an open book placed with its face down, or like the Chinese character “rù” (入). 

<PHOTO> 

In 1934 (昭和9年), the Keelung Shinto Shrine was updated into a Prefectural Level Shrine (縣社) under the Governor General’s Office policy to ensure that there was a shrine in every borough, town and city in Taiwan (一街一庄一神社). As mentioned above, as part of the celebrations for its upgrade in status, the shrine was gifted a giant cannon. 

When the Colonial Era ended in 1945 (昭和20年), the Keelung Shinto Shrine, like many of the other larger Prefectural Level Shrines was converted into a Martyrs Shrine (忠烈祠) by the Chinese Nationalist Government. 

The cannon was then moved to a park further up the mountain and parts of the shrine started to change. Ultimately the vast majority of the shrine was torn down in 1969 (民國58年), and a Chinese-style shrine was constructed in its place. 

The Keelung Martyrs Shrine (基隆忠烈祠)

After that long-winded deep dive above about a Shinto Shrine that doesn’t even exist anymore, it would be understandable if you’ve read this far and you’re asking yourself: 

What exactly is a Martyrs Shrine?” 

That’s okay - I’ve visited quite a few of these shrines and I still find myself asking this question. 

To put it in simple terms, Martyrs Shrines in Taiwan are more or less war memorials for the fallen members of the Republic of China Armed Forces.

There are over twenty of these shrines throughout Taiwan (including the outlying islands), each of which with has interesting history, but is a history that doesn’t necessarily ever relate to anything to do with the Martyrs Shrine itself.

Its also important to note that these shrines actually have very little to do with “Taiwan” as the majority of the ‘martyrs’ worshipped in the shrines were soldiers who died during the various conflicts in China from the founding of the Republic of China in 1912 until the 1950s.

That being said, even though the ‘Republic of China’ has been at peace for several decades, if a member of any branch of the Armed Forces passes away in the line of duty, they are also afforded the respect of becoming a martyr.

If you’d like more detail about these shrines, I recommend taking a few minutes to check out my post about the National Revolutionary Martyrs Shrine, which explains the purpose of these shrines.

I suppose the key thing to understand about Taiwan’s ‘Martyrs Shrines’ is that of the twenty or so that exist in the country today, the vast majority of them are located on the site of a former Shinto Shrine.

Some of which still retain bits and pieces of their original design and layout, but have been altered to reflect their new roles while others have been completely torn down and rebuilt. The Keelung Martyrs Shrine is no different as it is located on the site of the former Keelung Shinto Shrine, and even though most of what once stood on this site has been torn down, it continues to retain much of its original layout with a few little surprises here and there. 

As I’ve already done several in the past with these articles about Taiwan’s Martyrs Shrines, I’ll explain the current shrine by following the path of the original Shinto Shrine so that you can better understand what currently exists on the site and what used to be there. 

Before we get into that though, let me first explain the short history of the shrine. 

When the Second World War ended with the Japanese Empire’s surrender to the Allied Forces, one of the conditions of their defeat was that they had to relinquish control of the areas they conquered in the decades leading up to the war. This included areas in Korea, Manchuria, China and Taiwan, among others. Having to surrender control of these areas was certainly a major blow to Japan, but none of them could have ever compared to the loss of Taiwan, which was Japan’s most treasured colony. 

Control of Taiwan was ambiguously awarded to the Republic of China and when the Chinese Nationalists arrived here, they were gifted with an island that was developed far better than that of the rest of China. That being said, they inherited a population of people who resisted their rule and who (for the most part) considered themselves Japanese citizens, or had no interest in being ruled by another foreign power. This resulted in protests, massacres and what would become known as the period of White Terror (白色恐怖), where the island was ruled with an iron fist for decades. 

Link: White Terror | 白色恐怖 (Wiki)

Back in China, Chiang Kai-Shek and his Chinese Nationalists found themselves on the losing end of the Chinese Civil War, which eventually forced him to relocate the government to Taipei, bringing with him millions of people and a large portion of China’s priceless national treasures. 

Even though Taiwan was pretty well-developed at the time, the sudden influx of more than two million Chinese refugees put a major strain on the island’s infrastructure, in addition to putting the refugees at odds with the local population.

The Chinese Nationalists having suffered through a terrible war against the Japanese back at home during the Second World War, figured it was better to simply get rid of any Japanese cultural symbols in order to ensure a quicker transition to Chinese Nationalist rule. 

This meant that the majority of Taiwan’s more than two hundred Shinto Shrines would have to be demolished. That being said, many of the larger Prefectural Level Shrines were a little too nice to be simply torn down, so a few of them were saved from being torn down by being converted into Martyrs Shrines, which replaced one regimes cultural symbol with a culture symbol of another regime.

The Keelung Shinto Shrine was one of the lucky Shinto Shrines that was able to escape wanton destruction and for more than two decades only a few minor details were changed to better reflect the change in regime. 

In the late 1960s however, the international political situation started to shift and countries started to formally recognize the People’s Republic of China, which had shut its borders to most of the world after 1949 to better facilitate their ‘Communist’ revolution. One of China’s pre-conditions for the establishment of formal ties was that countries had to respect its position on the situation regarding Taiwan.

With a sudden loss of its seat in the United Nations and international relations in tatters, the government of the Republic of China in Taiwan acted immaturely in its response and burned quite a few bridges in the process. When the Japanese government signed their own Joint Communiqué with the PRC in 1972, the government here in Taiwan responded by tearing down even more of the island’s Japanese past, which included many of the remaining Shinto Shrines. 

The Keelung Shinto Shrine ended up being one of the shrines that got demolished, and in 1969 (民國58年) construction started on a replica of a Northern-Chinese Palace style (中國北方宮殿樣式) designed replacement.

That being said, the construction process was pretty half-assed and even though the main shrine was completed in 1972, much of the site remains to this day a ‘work in progress’ and has suffered through long periods of neglect. 

Suffice to say, annual numbers place the number of people who visited the Shinto Shrine in 1933 at more than 83,000 people. Given how so few people actually visit the shrine these days, it would be hard to imagine that more than 83,000 people have visited since 1972. 

  • Shrine Gates (鳥居 / 牌樓)

Once home to four Japanese Shrine Gates, otherwise known as “Torii”, the Martyrs Shrine currently features two beautiful Chinese-style “Pailou Gates” (牌樓) on street level, and just as you reach the Martyrs Shrine. 

While the street-level gate acts as a gate to the Martyrs Shrine, it is officially the pedestrian entrance to Zhongzheng Park (中正公園), which takes you up the path to the shrine and beyond to the beautiful trails on the mountain park that overlooks the port.

The gate has a beautifully decorated red ‘roof’ with two multi-coloured ridges below, and is easily 20 meters high, making it a very noticeable while walking down the street. 

The second gate further up the path is the official Martyrs Shrine Gate (忠烈祠牌樓), and following tradition includes three passageways, a multi-layered roof, and plaques with Chinese calligraphy on both the front and back. Strangely, gates of this kind at other Martyrs Shrines around Taiwan feature similar plaques, with a number of ‘revolutionary’ phases, but they it seems like they were a bit lazy with this one as the three plaques on the front and back are exactly the same.

On both sides you’ll find the largest plaque in the centre that reads “Martyrs’ Shrine” (忠烈祠) with the words “成仁” (chéng rén) and “取義“ (qǔ yì) above the left and right archway, which translate as ‘to die for a good cause’ and ‘to choose honour over life’ respectively. 

  • Visiting Path (參道)

The Visiting Path to the Martyrs Shrine is one of the pieces of the Shinto Shrine that was never really affected, like the rest of the shrine. The original path retains much of its century-old elements and if you’ve ever visited a Shinto Shrine in Japan, it should be easily identifiable.

Starting from ground-level, the path to the shrine is a two-sided stone set of stairs with a railing in the middle and pedestals on both sides. The pedestals were once home to shrine’s Stone Lanterns, but they’ve all since been removed or destroyed. Once you reach the top of the first set of stairs you’ll discover an open section of land where the Shinto Shrine’s Administration Building once existed.

From there, the stone path continues to the right where you’ll reach a second set of steep stairs where you’ll see the second Shrine Gate at the top. Near the base of the stairs you should take a look at the base of the green hill where you’ll see the reinforced cement base that was constructed along with the Shinto Shrine to prevent landslides and help with water drainage.

When you reach the top of the second set of stairs, you’ll find a set of the original Stone Lion-Dog Guardians on both the left and right side, both of which have amazingly survived since they were gifted to the Shinto Shrine in 1918 (大正8年).  

  • Hall of Worship / Martyrs Shrine (拜殿 / 忠烈祠)

Interestingly, the current Main Hall of the Martyrs Shrine building was constructed on the exact location of the original Shinto Shrine, and continues to use the original base to elevate it off of the ground that was constructed for the Shinto Shrine almost a century ago.

The architectural design of the building however has changed considerably. 

Constructed in the Northern-Chinese Palace style, the shrine follows a similar architectural design as many of the other Martyrs Shrines around Taiwan in that it has beautiful red pillars around the perimeter of the building that help to hold up an elaborate two-layered roof.

Between the first and second layer of the roof you’ll find a horizontal plaque in the centre that reads “zhōng liè cí” (忠烈祠), or “Martyrs Shrine” and below that you’ll find another that reads “zhōng liè qiān qiū” (忠烈千秋), which is translated literally as “The Loyalty of the Martyrs.”

On the apex of the roof you’ll find the circular star of the Republic of China, one of the iconic images of the Chinese Nationalist Party. The blue and white star hasn’t really aged well though, and is both fading and falling apart, much like the Chinese Nationalists themselves.

I can’t really tell you much about the interior of the building as like many of the other Martyrs Shrines around the country, its not open to the public very often. 

The thing about these shrines is that they’re not the same as the typical temples or shrines that you’ll find all around Taiwan, and it is actually very uncommon for people to just randomly show up to pray.

The Martyrs Shrines serve their purpose as war memorials (and propaganda tools) for the former authoritarian regime, which is why you’ll rarely find many visitors. 

  • Main Hall / Martyrs Hall (本殿 / 烈士堂)

The last section of the Martyrs Shrine is somewhat of a recent addition, but is located in the beautiful space where the Shinto Shrine’s Main Hall (本殿) was once located. 

When the Shinto Shrine was torn down and the Martyrs Shrine was constructed in its place, the area that was once home to the Main Hall became home to a shrine to the glorious dictator, President Chiang Kai-Shek. Unfortunately, statues of the murderous authoritarian don’t seem to be very popular in Taiwan these days and they have a hard time keeping their heads attached to their neck.

The statue of CKS ended up being defaced so many times over the years that the people in charge of the shrine just removed it entirely and replaced it with a “Martyrs Hall”, something that the vast majority of people who visit the area tend to miss. 

Given that I know quite a bit about the architecture of Shinto Shrines, it was always obvious that if I walked around to the rear of the Martyrs Shrine that there would be a path to where the Main Hall would have been located. 

In this case, the path to the Main Hall, an extension of the “Visiting Path” mentioned above would have been off-limits to the public, while the Shinto Shrine was still in existence, but today is pretty much open to anyone who wants to check it out. 

This path though, is absolutely beautiful. 

Constructed with cement, the path is yet another steep set of stairs that bring you up above the roof of the Martyrs Shrine below. The entire area is tree-covered and is harmonious with nature, just like a Shinto Shrine should be. 

Yours truly on my way up to the Main Hall

The path was so beautiful that I made sure to take a rare photo of myself walking up it! 

When you get to the top of the path you will notice a large open space on the mountain where they’ve now constructed a small, but beautiful “Martyrs Hall” (忠烈堂), which like the shrine below is pretty much always closed to the public. 

In front of the hall you’ll find two trees that were planted on either side of the building and date back to the Japanese era. The trees have had over a century to grow and now they’re pretty large and help to add to the natural surroundings of the area. 

If you visit the Martyrs Shrine, I can’t recommend enough that you walk around to the rear of the building to check out this area as I find that its probably the most important and was once the most sacred area of the shrine. 

Getting There

 

Address: #278 Xin-er Road. Zhongzheng District, Keelung City (基隆市中正區信二路278號)

GPS: 25.131410 121.745610

Keelung, unfortunately isn’t the easiest city to get around, especially if you’re new to the city and aren’t really familiar with the public transportation. That being said, most of the popular tourist attractions are conveniently located within the downtown core of the city meaning that if you visit, you can easily access most of what you’ll want to see on foot.

Adding to the difficulty in getting around, Keelung doesn’t currently have access to YouBikes, GoShare, iRent, or Wemo, which means that if you prefer to get around on bike or scooter, you’ll have to rent one from one of the rental shops near the train station, which is much more expensive than those services listed above.

Similarly, if you have access to a car, I don’t really recommend driving it around Keelung as the city is cramped and parking can quickly become an issue, especially with all the one-way streets and the traffic congestion. 

If you plan on visiting the city, I recommend simply taking the train and walking around. 

You can reach most of what you’ll want to see within 10-20 minutes of walking, which is considerably shorter than the time it will take you to find parking and walking to wherever you want to go from there! 

The Keelung Martyrs Shrine is a short walk from the railway station and is just across the bridge from the popular Miaokou night market (廟口夜市). As mentioned above, the Martyrs Shrine is located on the base of a mountain, which features quite a few temples and tourists attractions, so a visit to the shrine should probably also include the short walk to the peak where you’ll be able to enjoy some really amazing views of the Keelung cityscape.

If you follow my advice and walk, getting to the Martyrs Shrine is rather straightforward - Walk straight down Zhongyi Road (中一路) until you reach Aisi Road (愛四路) where you’ll turn left and cross the Japanese-era Jinji Bridge (基隆十二生肖橋). From there, continue walking straight until you reach Xin-er Road (信二路) where you’ll find the gate to the Martyrs Shrine on the right, directly across from a large fire station. 

While you’re in the area, it should go without saying that you should check out the night market, but don’t forget to visit Zhongzheng Park (中正公園), which is a short walk up the mountain from the Martyrs Shrine, in addition to the Maritime Plaza (海洋廣場) and some of the other tourist spots in the area. 

A visit to the Martyrs Shrine certainly won’t take that much time out of your day, but given that this is a spot that has played a pretty big role in the development of the city, its probably worth a bit of your time before you move on to your next destination! 



Pigs of God 2020

Without fail, one of the busiest times on my yearly calendar is when the annual Ghost Month (中元節) rolls around, usually in the late stages of summer, or the seventh month on the lunar calendar. 

The problem I find myself faced with each and every year is that there is always so much to see and do that I need to be strategic and make sure to plan well in advance, so that I can make the most of my time. 

Even though there is so much to do, one of the events that I rarely ever miss is the annual celebrations that the local Hakka people in the community I live in put on for the Yimin Festival (義民祭). 

One of the reasons I love this festival is that it combines Hakka culture with a carnival-like atmosphere and whenever I go, I always end up running into people that I haven’t seen in years, while also enjoying some of my favourite local dishes. 

The problem with the whole thing is that there is also a dark shadow cast over the entire event thanks to the inclusion of the “Pigs of God” (神豬), a controversial element that goes hand-in-hand with the festival in the various places where it is celebrated throughout the country. 

As I’ve already mentioned a few times here on my blog, the competition is controversial because its viewed by many in contemporary society as a form of unnecessary animal cruelty which clearly violates animal abuse laws, but is supported by local temples and politicians who view it as an important cultural and religious activity.

Not to sound like a hypocrite, even though I’m philosophically opposed to the practice, I also rarely miss the chance to check it out and document it. 

So if I’m not a hypocrite what am I? A glutton for punishment? A masochist? 

I can’t really say. 

Part of me hopes that at some point in the near future all of this stuff will come to a screeching halt and the abuse of these poor animals will stop.

But on the other hand, every year I feel compelled to attend the festival to see what’s going on. 

Before I get into any of my thoughts about this years event, I think it’s important to give you a bit more information about what this event actually is. I’ll explain it briefly before, but I’m not going to copy and paste what I’ve already published, so if you’d like more in-depth information about the festival, I recommend taking a look at the links below. 

Yimin Temple | Pigs of God 2015 | Pigs of God 2016 | Pigs of God 2017

It’s also important that I provide a disclaimer before moving on: 

As you read on, there will be photos of animal sacrifices that you may-or-may-not feel comfortable looking at. There is nothing particularly gruesome about any of it, but I’m just warning you beforehand that the photos may be unsettling for some people. 


The Pigs of God (神豬/豬公)

Earlier this week, the Hakka Affairs Council, the government agency tasked with the preservation and promotion of Hakka language and culture, tweeted: “President Tsai Ying-wen attended a ceremony in observance of Hakka Yimin Festival on September 7th, a three-day event that aims to promote the spirit of Yimin, a collective phrase for Hakka Martyrs who sacrificed their lives to defend their homeland in the past. Under the collaboration between the central and local governments, Taiwan’s Hakka Yimin Festival has become one of the biggest national festivals.” 

And then without a hint of irony, Channel News Asia published a report titled: “Taiwan’s Polarising Pig Festival Draws Smaller Sacrifices” which proudly explained that this year the sacrifices were smaller and so too were the crowds who came to see them. 

So which one is closer to the truth?

Given that I’ve attended this event every year for well over a decade, I’m probably able to explain this stuff a little bit better than government propaganda or foreign news reports.

First though, I realize that few people will actually click the links I’ve provided above, so let me briefly talk about what the Yimin Festival is. 

Way back when people in China regarded Taiwan as nothing but a worthless pile of dirt, the Hakka’s were one of the first groups brave enough to immigrate to the island. 

Having settled here for hundreds of years, the Hakka people have a long and interesting history in Taiwan and are highly regarded for their loyalty, hard work and contributions to developing the country into the place we know and love today. 

That being said, life for the Hakka’s was never easy and throughout history they have constantly had to face persecution and discrimination.

Nevertheless, when duty calls, the Hakka people have always been on the front lines in order to protect their homes and families. Notably in 1786, a massive uprising against the Qing took place in central Taiwan and in order to protect their way of life, the Hakka formed a volunteer militia to help quell the uprising. 

Quickly putting together a force of over 1,300, the Hakka militia was victorious in quelling the uprising and saving their homes, but they also suffered tremendous losses. 

Due to the large number of casualties, it was decided that the dead would be buried together in a large tomb and honored as heroes, which became the foundation for “Yimin” (義民) worship and the Yimin Temple.

How do the Pigs of God factor into any of this? 

In what became a long-standing tradition, each year during the Yimin Festival, families would pool together to contribute food for a large festival. It was also decided that one of the major families would be responsible for sacrificing a pig to the ancestors as a show of respect.

Link: Hsinpu Ancestral Shrines

This rotation went on for quite some time but soon a competition (of sorts) started between families as the pigs raised for the festival started becoming larger and larger.

Ultimately the size of the pig that was offered up each year symbolized the wealth and power of a family which meant that as the years went by, the size of the pigs became a show of “face” and local power.

Today the Yimin Festival is celebrated all over Taiwan, but it is a much larger occasion in the Taoyuan, Hsinchu, Miaoli (桃竹苗) areas, which is where you’ll find the largest concentration of Hakka people in Northern Taiwan.

The majority of the festivities are held at the Baozhong Yimin Temple (褒忠義民廟) in Hsinpu (新埔), but wherever the festival takes place, the Pigs of God are also likely to make an appearance. 

Just for a bit of clarity - market sized hogs sell when they are at about 250 - 270 pounds (113-122kg).

This means that a Pig of God candidate has to grow to at least 5-6 times the size of a normal pig.  

Winning pigs in the past have reached anywhere between 800-900 kilograms, making them almost ten times the size of a normal healthy pig.

To achieve such a result, the pigs are raised for anywhere between two and four years and are constantly overfed and placed in a confined space, which ultimately forces them to become immobile.

This lifestyle is extremely unhealthy for the animals as they develop painful bed sores, suffer from organ failure, developmental deformities and various other ailments.

Adding to the problem, animal rights groups have accused farmers of force-feeding the pigs heavy-metals or stones days before the contest takes place, in order to achieve a higher final weight. 

As criticism of the competition has grown, proponents for the event have argued that there is no cruelty involved and farmers have even opened up their farms for animal rights groups to come and check out the process. They’ve also argued that once the pig is sacrificed, its meat is distributed to local charities so that there is no waste involved.

Link: What is Taiwan’s Pigs of God Weighing Contest? (EAST)  

My only question is, if the claims are true about the illnesses these poor animals suffer, how safe is the meat to actually eat? 

So, let’s talk about the 2020 Yimin festival. 

The last time I blogged about the Yimin Festival, I left feeling rather optimistic. 

Our current Mayor, Cheng Wen-tsan (鄭文燦), had just taken office with a progressive set of policies and things were looking good. The festival organizers were tasked with coming up with “environmentally friendly” ideas to slowly phase out the pigs - and the amount of pigs that were put on display was reduced.

Here’s a recap of my observations from the last time I blogged about this: 

  1. The Pigs of God this year were considerably smaller, which shows that a little more care was taken not to abuse the animals and overfeed them as much as in years past.

  2. The Taoyuan City Government promoted the usage of “Environmentally Friendly Pigs of God" (環保神豬), which were art displays made to look like pigs and constructed out of recycled products and paraded around town in the same way that the real pigs would be.

  3. The event organizers planned an alternate activity where local people as well as dignitaries as high up as President Tsai Ying-Wen would come and release water lanterns on the eve of the event.

This year, all of that progress was thrown out the window. 

There were seven Pigs of God put on display, with a total of seventeen entering the competition.

The winning pig weighed 880 kilos with the smallest being 580 kilos.

There were no “Environmentally Friendly” pigs to be seen and they went all-out with ostentatious displays of firecrackers, fireworks and pole dancers. 

And this was only at the Yimin Temple closest to where I live.

Link: The Pigs of God: Force-Fed then slaughtered for spectacle (We Animals)

There were several other temples, including one that was only a ten minute drive away, where similar events were taking place and the Pigs of God were put on display at almost all of them. 

I was hoping that the efforts being made to phase this event out would have continued, but it seems like despite people’s objections, the political clout of some of these temples far greater exceeds the calls for change and modernization. 

I’d also note that the last few times I’ve attended the festival, there were protesters who were also there trying their best to get people to pay attention to the plight of the pigs.

This year, they didn’t bother showing up. 

The fact that politicians as far up the political ladder as the President and Taoyuan’s mayor took part in the activities just goes to show that the political will to actually do something probably isn’t really there, which is unfortunate. 

The Yimin Festival continues to be a popular event and attracts crowds of thousands - I’m not sure where Channel News Asia (in the article linked above) got their numbers, but they were way off.

I haven’t seen any official figures, but from what I saw, not even a global pandemic could keep the crowds from attending this year. 

I’m sad to say that the Pigs of God aspect of this festival are going to be phased out any time soon, so I guess you’ll probably be seeing future Pigs of God posts from me in the future. 

*sigh*