廢棄

Abandoned Tea Factory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chiang A-hsin (姜阿新)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Link: Dongfang meiren 東方美人茶 (Wiki)

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

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

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

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

Daping Tea Factory (大平製茶厰)

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

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

Link: Hsinpu Ancestral Shrines (新埔宗祠)

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

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

Tea baskets that have seen better days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Link: 百年大平製茶廠 竹縣爭納古蹟 (自由時報)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Abandoned Railway Dorms (台鐵安東街宿舍案)

Urban Exploration? It’s been a while! Even though I continue to actively explore in my free time, I haven’t posted anything urbex-related in quite a while. There are actually a few reasons for this - The most obvious is that I’ve been way too busy with commercial work and have had a difficult time catching up with all of the personal photos and blogs that I haven’t had a chance to get to.

When it comes to urbex-related stuff, I’ll eventually get to it, but sometimes if the story behind a place that I’m exploring doesn’t really interest me that much, I won’t spend much time writing about it. There are of course also some more annoying reasons why I haven’t been willing to post much urbex-related stuff in recent months, but I’m not really going to get into that here.

All I’ll say about that is the reason you’re seeing this today is because the area I’m writing about is already gone.

With todays post, I had the luck to be able to combine my enjoyment of urban exploration with a bit of research about Taiwanese history dating back to the Japanese Colonial Era, something that interests me quite a bit.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you’ll probably have noticed that I’ve lamented ad nauseam about the fact that when the Japanese Colonial Era ended in Taiwan, most of what was constructed that had anything to do with Japanese culture or religion was torn down or repurposed. Suffice to say, even though a lot of buildings were destroyed by the Chinese Nationalists, they didn’t actually tear down everything that the Japanese constructed.

In fact, a lot of the infrastructure that was constructed by the Japanese (in addition to the efficient way that they did things) was successfully emulated by the incoming regime, proving tremendously helpful when it came to further developing the country.

One of the best examples of this was the way the Japanese provided dormitories for employees of the state - So if you were a civil servant, worked at a school, university, hospital, were a member of the police force or the railway, it was likely that you had a dormitory assigned for yourself and your family.

It goes without saying that the “dorms” provided are not likely the university-style dormitories that you’re thinking - They were often large Japanese-style homes that were provided based on the importance of the work that you were doing with higher ranking state employees receiving larger homes for themselves while others would have received shared accommodations.

The dorms were also almost always constructed very close to your place of work, so if for example you were a police officer, the housing you were provided with was likely very close to the precinct you worked at. Likewise if you were a teacher or a principal, your home was likely constructed on school grounds or next door to the campus.

Link: Zhongli Police Dormitories (中壢警察局日式宿舍群)
Link: Jhudong Dormitories (竹東林務宿舍)

When the Nationalists arrived in Taiwan though they brought with them a couple of million refugees from China which instantly created a housing crisis. To solve this problem they moved many of the higher ranking bureaucrats that came with them into the existing dormitories constructed by the Japanese while at the same time emulating the Japanese and created “Military Villages” (眷村) of their own to be used as “temporary” housing.

As I’ve mentioned a few times in previous posts, the Chinese Nationalists arrived in Taiwan with the mindset that they were only going to be here on a short term basis while the Japanese on the other hand developed the island with the mindset that they were never going to leave; This is why many of those “dorms” constructed by the Japanese are still standing today while the hastily constructed Military Villages built by the Nationalists are falling apart and being torn down.

It is unfortunate that most of the buildings of cultural and religious significance that were constructed by the Japanese have already been torn down, but we can at least take solace in the fact that the history of the colonial era hasn’t been completely erased as the continued existence of the “dorms” acts as a link to an important period of Taiwan’s history.

In recent years, the Taiwanese government has done an admirable job (and spent a considerable amount of money) restoring many of the remaining buildings constructed during the Colonial Era and has converted them into tourist destinations. This renaissance of sorts has helped to highlight the fact that Taiwan is in fact an interesting country with an interesting history, which is something that is often overlooked by the local people here.

​A few months back I was invited to take a tour of the recently restored Taipei Railway Workshop (台北機廠) - The workshop, which is now open to the public for tours is an important piece of Taiwan’s history that dates back almost a century and is an excellent place to learn about Taiwan’s amazing railway system and how the railway was instrumental in Taiwan’s development.

While touring the workshop, one of the questions that came to mind was whether or not there were dormitories on-site - It seemed probable that one of the buildings in the administrative section could have been used for shared accommodations, but I was never able to confirm that. So while doing research for the article I was writing about the workshop, I took a bit of time to search out where the railway dorms were located.

One of the ways that I typically do research on this kind of stuff is to first take a look at the satellite view on Google Maps. The problem however in this case is that the Railway Workshop was located directly next door to the Songshan Tobacco Factory (松山菸廠), which would have also had dorms of its own. So without a definitive answer, I started doing some research.

The layout of the Eastern Block of the Taipei Railway Dormitories

In no time I discovered that the Railway Bureau had a few separate communities of dorms available for employees at the workshop and beyond. The largest of which was the nearby “Eastern Block” (臺北機廠東宿舍) community in the Songshan Area which dates back to 1937 (昭和12年). Although that community no longer exists today (the dorms were later moved), the interesting thing is that the land they were constructed on is currently home to the popular Wufenpu Shopping District (五分埔商圈) near the Raohe Night Market (饒河夜市).

Link: 臺北機廠東宿舍 (臺北市信義區文史地圖)

Link: Songshan Railway Residences (Synapticism)

If you were wondering about the other large community of railway dorms, namely the “Western Block” (台北西區鐵道宿舍群) you don’t have to look much further than the area between Taipei Train Station (台北車站) and the North Gate (北門).

The area was once home to the historic Taiwan Railway Hotel (台灣鐵道飯店) as well as a large community of dorms, both of which are currently in the process of being restored and will be open to the public in the near future - Unfortunately though, most of the dorm section has already been torn down and converted into a public park.

While it was actually quite simple to research the history of the Japanese-style railway dorm communities, the situation with the modern “Eastern Block Railway Dorms” was a bit more difficult to understand. The majority of the information online is either from some local news sites or real estate sites that were looking to rent out some of the apartments within.

So here’s what I can tell you - The modern high-rise style Railway dorm community was constructed in Taipei’s Eastern District between Zhongxiao Fuxing (忠孝復興站) and Nanjing Fuxing (南京復興站) MRT Stations. Constructed in the 1970s, the Taiwan Railway Andong Street Dorms (台鐵安東街宿舍案) became the new home for most of those who were living in the original dorm community in Songshan.

The apartment block consisted of several buildings in a walled-community and at full occupancy had enough space for two hundred apartments. After several decades however many of the people who were living in the apartments started to move out due to rising rent prices and employee layoffs, leaving many of the apartments abandoned.

At the turn of the century, the abandoned apartments started to become a problem for the local community as they apparently started to attract homeless people and drug users. Likewise the parking lot for some reason became a local dumping ground for abandoned cars, which attracted garbage, mosquitos and other pests.

The local Village Representative (里長) complained to the Taipei City Government on several occasions about the situation but nothing could be done as the community wasn’t completely abandoned and those families still living inside were unwilling to relocate. The Taiwan Railway Administration likewise was losing an insane amount of money every year in property taxes on a plot of land that would otherwise be considered prime real estate and the central government was none-too-happy about the accumulating losses.

Link: 台鐵安東街宿舍荒廢淪車輛棄置廠 (民視新聞)

In 2015, the community made headlines across the Taipei culinary scene when the Railway Administration issued eviction notices to the occupants of the 3600 square meter area. This meant that all the occupants and businesses in the area would have to relocate as the community would eventually be torn down. The most famous occupant, Lin Dong-Fang Beef Noodles (林東芳牛肉麵), a staple of the local food scene, likewise would have to find a new place to operate their business - sending late night foodies into a frenzy. Where would one get their late night beef noodles fix if they closed?

Link: 台鐵局收回宿舍用地 林東芳牛肉麵年底前要搬家 (ET Today)

The good news is that they found a new place nearby to cook their noodles.

When I blogged about the Taipei Railway Workshop, I wanted to check out the dorms, but I found out that it would ultimately be a race against time as the buildings were about to be completely demolished. So, I found some time to get myself to the area, found a way in and explored a few of the abandoned apartment buildings. To tell the truth though, when I arrived, they had already started tearing down many of the buildings, so I was really limited as to what I could take photos of.

As you’re reading this now, the buildings are already completely demolished and the future of the land is yet to be decided. One would hope that the Taipei City Government in conjunction with the Central Government would follow through on their campaign promises and use the land to construct affordable public housing, but only time will tell.

Still, I’m glad that I was able to get into the apartments to check them out and document an interesting part of Taiwan’s history that is likely to be completely forgotten.


Abandoned Chiang Kai-Shek Temple (廢棄蔣公廟)

For most tourists, an itinerary for a trip to Taiwan almost always includes stopping by one of the famous night markets, climbing a famous mountain, eating some famous dumplings and of course visiting one or more of the country’s famous places of worship.

This means that on any given day you’ll find just as many wide-eyed tourists at Taipei’s Longshan Temple than you will faithful locals - and there’s good reason for that. Taiwan’s temples are often the best preserved examples of traditional architecture in the country.

While it is easy for tourists to respect the beauty of Taiwan’s places of worship, its not likely that many of them actually understand much of anything is going on inside. Even though we may not understand everything that’s going on, its easy to realize that everything you see inside a temple has a purpose and nothing is out of place - Every mural, every Chinese character, every dragon or phoenix on the roof, etc. It all has a purpose and follows a strict code of design dictated by thousands of years of tradition.

Religion in Taiwan brilliantly mixes Taoism, Buddhism and local folk religion into an experience that is uniquely Taiwanese.

Even though the three different philosophies vary considerably in practice, they are still able to mix together peacefully. This means that in almost every temple in the country you’ll encounter a pantheon of gods and goddesses living in harmony under one roof.

The religious experience though is not entirely as hippy-like as it sounds - There are some aspects that can really freak people out. This is a feeling that actually isn’t exclusive to tourists as many young and uninitiated locals often also have the same wide-eyed look of confusion and disbelief about what they’re seeing in temples.

Take the “Pigs of God” festival for example - In several communities around Northern Taiwan you’ll find a religious festival that worships “God Pigs” (神豬), giant hogs that are over-fed for years only to be slaughtered and put on gruesome display as an offering to the gods.

Likewise, the Spirit Medium’s (乩童) that you’ll find at most temple festivals put themselves in a trance in order to become ‘possessed by a god’ and then self-flagellate until their body is bleeding profusely. There’s also the role of a “Ji-Gong” (濟公) who performs a similar task but instead of using weapons to cause self-harm, they drink copious amounts of rice wine until drunk enough that they’re able to speak for the gods.

When it comes to the deities being worshipped, there are also a few head scratchers - Take the Chinese Zodiac deity Yang Ren (楊任) for example - Even though he’s one of my favourite,  this is a god who has a couple of hands for eyes. There’s also Xing-Tian (刑天), a headless giant whose face appears on his chest and has nipples for eyes.

The strangest of all however, if you’re asking me, are the temples where you’ll find shrines dedicated to “Jiang-Gong” (蔣公), known here on earth as former President Chiang Kai-Shek.

Yes, thats right.

Chiang Kai-Shek, one of the most prolific murderers of the 20th century.

Suffice to say, this practice is an obscure one, with a small following, but in the temples where he is worshipped, you can’t help but feel a bit weird. The subject of today’s post is an abandoned and unfinished temple dedicated to Taiwan’s former president.

On the day of my visit, I posted a photo I took from my phone to Twitter and received a lot of comments and retweets from people who were surprised that something like this existed.

I tweeted: “Today’s Adventure - An Abandoned temple dedicated to Chiang Kai-Shek. Why’s it abandoned? Probably because its weird to worship mass murderers as a god.

Someone replied: “In that case, the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall in Taipei is REALLY weird.”

Yes, I agree, the Memorial Hall is also kinda weird.

There is a major difference between the two however - The Memorial Hall, much like the Lincoln Memorial in Washington is a place of reverence for a former leader. The people who visit are expected to show respect to the former president, but there are never any religious rituals performed there. At the temples dedicated to CKS on the other hand, you’ll find the same style of religious practice taking place that you will at other temples with images of the man adorned in god-like attire.

Before I talk about the temple, I think a bit of context about the cult of Chiang Kai-Shek is in order.

If you haven’t already, I recommend taking a look at my posts about the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall as well as the Cihu Mausoleum where his body lies in state. In both blogs I go into a lot more detail about the man and his legacy in Taiwan.

Chiang Kai Shek Worship?  

President Chiang Kai-Shek, who died on April 5, 1975, has a bit of a contentious legacy, to say the least.

As the political landscape has shifted over the past few decades, the people of Taiwan have started to reflect on their history and are learning about many of the unfortunate events that took place over the long period of Chiang’s governance - subjects which were once taboo.

Chiang’s supporters credit him for the role he played during the Sino-Japanese War, the ensuing Chinese Civil War and the continued development of Taiwan. His detractors on the other hand denounce him as a violent dictator who imposed decades of authoritarian rule over the people of Taiwan and for the crimes against humanity that took place under his leadership.

No matter which side of the fence you sit on, Chiang Kai-Shek’s legacy is often vigorously debated and even though he was one of the most important figures in the history of the Chinese Nationalist Party and a key player during the Second World War, his memory is rarely evoked by the KMT of today.

Nevertheless, there are some who remain ideologically dedicated to the man, whom they have propped up as a hero and someone whose deeds in life are apparently worthy of deification in local folk-religion circles.

Many of the gods and goddesses you’ll come across in temples were actually historic figures, known for performing miracles or achieving greatness during their lifetime. When it comes to the process of “deification” though, it doesn’t seem like the rules are very strict, so you will often come across obscure figures being worshipped in some of the temples around the country.

While many of the historical figures that have been deified over the years have achieved universal recognition, worship of Chiang Kai-Shek is considered an obscure practice and is generally only followed by retired members of the Armed Forces and extreme political types.

Currently there are a handful of places in Taiwan where you can find a temple or a shrine dedicated to “Jiang-Gong.” Most however are simply named “Halls of Appreciation” (感恩堂) likely alluding to the fact that CKS isn’t recognized by most as a deity.

While I don’t intend to offer a complete list of temples or shrines dedicated to CKS, the most notable of the bunch are Hsinchu’s Tian-Hong Temple (天宏宮), Danshui’s Kuixing Temple (魁星宮) and the two “Chiang Kai-Shek Halls of Appreciation” (蔣公感恩堂) on Kaohsiung’s Qijing Island (旗津).

The shrines that are set up in these temples often include a statue of Chiang Kai-Shek surrounded by Republic of China iconography. Most of the statues are actually quite normal but in some cases, they appear with a black face and his body will be adorned in thick yellow-gold robes indicating his divine nature.

In front of the shrine you’ll often find a table where worshippers are able to place offerings and an incense urn for placing sticks of incense once you’re done praying.

The temples don’t hold events very often, but on certain anniversaries, it is likely that a small ceremony is planned to commemorate the day. From what I’ve seen online, these events usually involve the burning of copious amounts of ghost money and making offerings.

As the years have passed these temples have become more and more obscure and for the most part attract people only for curiosity sake. I suppose the main reason for this is that many of the people who grew up adoring the man are now in the late-stages of life or have already passed away. This presents a problem for temple management as CKS currently has many more enemies in Taiwan than allies and makes them a target for vandalism.

In one of the Kaohsiung temples for example, the shrine dedicated to CKS had to be moved from the main hall of the temple to one of the side halls as people would drive by and take shots at the statue with Airsoft rifles or BB guns. Likewise many of the statues of CKS that you’ll find in parks and schools around the country are routinely vandalized (especially on certain anniversaries) with many of them beheaded or splattered with red paint.

The China Times quoted a pragmatic manager in a recent article about one of these temples who said: “People in Taiwan have many different views of Chiang Kai-Shek, if you want to come and pay respect, then by all means come, if you don’t, thats okay, no one is forcing you” (台灣社會各界對蔣介石的評價不一,但想拜的人就來拜,不想的就算了,誰也不能勉強誰)

Abandoned CKS Temple

Although there are a few active places of worship dedicated to Chiang Kai-Shek throughout Taiwan, others that have been completely abandoned.

The subject of today’s post is one of the latter and is one that has gained a bit of notoriety in recent years thanks to its inclusion in the popular film “The Great Buddha” (大佛普拉斯), which if you haven’t seen, I highly recommend.

Information about the temple is a bit hit and miss but from what I’ve found, it was constructed in 1979, a few years after Chiang Kai-Shek’s death and was meant to be a “Chiang Kai-Shek Hall” (中正堂) with an adjoining City God Temple (城隍廟) attached to the main hall.

The land purchase and subsequent construction was funded by a local man named Hong who figured that he could be eligible for compensation from the Chinese Nationalist Party for his efforts.

Unfortunately when party representatives visited the site, they found that there was nothing of historical value and that the location was so obscure that few people would be interested in visiting, therefore Hong’s request for compensation was denied.

Consequently Mr. Hong, who had already spent a fortune on the construction of the temple decided it was best to just move in and converted the rear section into a home where he lived until he died. Having already run out of cash, the temple remained unfinished with no decorations on the roof and the shrine rooms only sloppily painted. Mr. Hong’s family had no interest in maintaining the temple, so they tried their best to sell the land in order to recover their losses.

Unfortunately no one was really interesting in buying the land, nor were there any takers for demolishing a half-constructed temple which would result in a considerable amount of “麻煩“ (inconvenience) for whomever undertook such a venture.

The family ultimately settled to sell the land for an extremely low price to the temple across the road which initially planned to tear it down but later decided to instead raise funds to complete construction.

The temple management however currently has zero interest in maintaining a temple dedicated to Chiang Kai-Shek, so whatever the future of the temple is, its not likely that worship of the former president will be a part of it.

When Director Huang Hsin-Yi (黃信堯) was scouting locations for his film “The Great Buddha”, he noted that the temple was so ‘ridiculous and absurd’ (太過荒謬) that it would be the perfect location to contribute to an important scene in the movie which was making light of some of the absurdities of Taiwanese culture.

The temple currently consists of a main hall, dedicated to worshipping Chiang Kai-Shek and an adjoining hall to the left with various statues in a large shrine room. To the rear of the halls you can find several different rooms, which are more or less empty and a set of stairs to the roof where you are rewarded with the view of an extremely dull landscape.

The Main Hall has has a bronze statue of Chiang Kai-Shek similar to the one at the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall in Taipei (on a much smaller scale) with the blue Republic of China star painted on the wall behind the statue. Below the statue you’ll find some cups for offering rice wine, some old ghost money and some incense if you feel like lighting one up for the old guy.

Directly in front of the shrine you’ll find a rusting incense cauldron with painted dragons on it.

The hall has several red columns that lead up to the shrine, but the paint on the columns has faded and is chipping off. Likewise, the walls on the east and west side of the room have been completed with scraps that Mr. Hong likely found lying on the side of the road.

The adjoining City God Hall (城隍殿) was originally intended to consist of three different shrines but it is currently home to several additional statues which seem like they were placed inside for their protection.

The interior of the shrine currently has a bronze bust of CKS on the far left, with a rock painted with an image of Guanyin on the far right. The middle area features an eerie eyeless statue of the City God (城隍爺) with Lord Guan (關公) to his left and another figure to his right - possibly the Earth God (土地公). There is also a similar-looking statue of Lord Bao (包公) and a small wooden statue that has had its face shaved off.

Save for the statue of the City God, it looks like all of the other statues were hand carved from chunks of wood and they all have hairy beards that have collected dust and dirt. The statue of the City God with its white eyes was enough to freak me out when I was taking photos in the dark shrine room.

I’m not superstitious, but I know enough about temples to know that it this kind of thing is scary.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that the “City God” is a deity whose purpose is to more or less protect the city (or town) he presides over and pass judgement on those who commit crimes within. You’ll find a City God Temple in almost all of Taiwan’s large areas with the Hsinchu City God Temple acting as the headquarters of all of them. The strange thing about a “City God Temple” being constructed in this area is that the temple is in the middle of no where. There’s no “city” for the City God to preside over - possibly adding to the “absurdity” of the temple mentioned by the director.

The only other object of note within the complex is a lonely palanquin that sits in a hallway between the two shrine rooms. The wooden palanquin which belongs to a nearby Mazu temple sits in the room with all of its pretty decorations collecting dust.

The temple is completely open and you are free to walk in and check everything out.

I usually include directions for the locations I blog about, but when it comes to Urban Exploration, its better if you try to find out on your own. It won’t be difficult to find if you do a bit of searching and I’ve left enough clues, but I’m not going to do all the work for you.

Happy Hunting!  

As far as temples go, this is one that likely has the ability to freak quite a people out - especially locals. Not only is it unfinished and abandoned, its also dedicated to someone who is for better or worse one of the most infamous figures in Taiwanese history. The obscure nature of the temple and the fact that it sits there completely open the public means that you’re perfectly able to visit whenever you like, but for many of the reasons listed above, its probably not one of Taiwan’s more popular tourist destinations.

Still, it was an interesting place to explore and a bit of a head scratcher at the same time.

I hope you at least enjoyed the photos and my attempt to stay somewhat neutral.