Taiwan Railways Administration

Railway Station Name Change Chart (臺灣日治時期火車站新舊地名對照表)

September 02, 2023 in Japanese Colonial Era

The purpose of this website, and by extension this blog, has always been to showcase my photography and my travels around Taiwan. Over the years, I’ve been quite adamant that my photos should always be used to help tell the story of the places I’ve been visiting around the country. This article is thus going to be somewhat of a first for me and I’m publishing it mostly just to serve as a reference for a few of my other articles.

To start, I should offer a bit of a backstory: I don’t spend all that much time on social media, but from time to time, I find some real gems shared in the Taiwanese history groups that I follow. So while browsing recently, I came across a photo of (what appeared to be) something out of a newspaper. The photo appeared aged, and featured a list of locations in Taiwan that were part of a major name-change policy that took effect in the early 1920s.

This was something that automatically interested me, especially since it was primarily focused on the railway, so given that it was all in Chinese, I quickly translated parts of it, and shared it on my Twitter. I’m not necessarily going to suggest that the tweet went viral, but it did attract quite a bit of attention, especially from Taiwanese followers who commented that they had no idea about many of the original place names that they were seeing on the photo.

The photo appeared to be an announcement from the Japanese-era Taiwan Railway Bureau (台灣鐵道部), listing a number railway stations around the island that were changing their names. Most of the information that was listed on the chart wasn’t particularly new to me, but it was the first time that I had seen it put together, especially on something that looked official.

Honestly, this is an aspect of Taiwan’s history that I’ve probably touched upon more than a few dozen times on my various articles about the Japanese-era, so I thought it best that I put together this article, and make use of the chart to expand upon what took place. One of the other reasons I’m writing this, though, is because there isn’t much information available in the English language regarding some of these original location names. I thought it would be helpful for anyone interested to learn about aspects of Taiwan’s history that aren’t often mentioned.

This time, in lieu of my own photos, I’m just going to share maps of Taiwan from the Japanese-era, which are often beautifully designed, but also feature some of those location names prior to being changed.

Link: Taiwan’s Remaining Japanese-era Train Stations (台鐵現存日治時期車站)

In the early years of the Japanese-era, Taiwan's administrative districts were a bit of a mess, with about twenty somewhat unorganized prefectures (廳). By the time Emperor Taisho (大正天皇) had come to power, the situation in Taiwan had started to become much more organized, and after more than two decades of development, many of the villages, towns and cities that we know today had stated to take shape, with infrastructure in place to properly administer the island.

In 1920 (大正9年), the Japanese government in Tokyo instituted an administrative policy that standardized Taiwan’s geographic administrative areas with those in the rest of the country. Known as the ‘Dōka Policy’ (同化 / どーか), Taiwan’s administrative areas were converted from the original ‘prefectures’ (廳 / cho / ちょう) into the same ‘prefectures’ (州 / shu / しゅう) that were used in Japan at the time. It was during this time that they also reduced the original number of prefectures from twenty to eight.

As of 1920, Taiwan’s eight prefectures were:

Taihoku (臺北州 / たいほくしゅう): Modern day Taipei, New Taipei City, Keelung, Yilan
Shinchiku (新竹州 / しんちくしゅう): Modern day: Taoyuan, Hsinchu, Miaoli
Taichu (臺中州 / たいちゅうしゅう): Modern day: Taichung, Changhua, Nantou,
Tainan (臺南州 / たいなんしゅう): Modern day: Chiayi, Yunlin, Tainan,
Takao (高雄州 / たかおしゅう): Modern day: Kaohsiung, Pingtung
Karenko (花蓮港廳 / かれんこうちょう): Modern day: Hualien
Taito (臺東廳 / たいとうちょう): Modern day: Taitung, Green Island, Orchid Island
Hoko (澎湖廳 /ほうこちょう): Modern day: Penghu Islands

Within each of these prefectures, you would have found subdivisions in the form of cities (市 / し) and counties (郡 / ぐん), which were then divided up into neighborhoods (町 / まち), towns (街 / がい), villages (庄 / そう) and Indigenous communities (蕃地 / ばんち), respectively.

While the colonial government was drawing up all of these new administrative districts, another issue that had to be dealt with were the names of some of these places. While it’s true that many of the major towns and villages around the island kept their original names, the Japanese weren’t exactly the biggest fans of some of them, so they decided to make some changes.

Prior to the arrival of the Japanese in 1895, Taiwan had been inhabited first it’s various tribes of indigenous peoples, then settlers from China started making their way across the strait, followed by the Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, English, etc. With names derived from so many different influences, the Japanese sought to create a system that was not only modern, but easier to understand.

For those of you who are interested in the changes, I’ve put together a list of some of the name changes that took place in 1922. It’s a long list, and I’m only going to provide their original name, the name they changed to, and their current name. I won’t spend time translating each of them to Japanese as many of them also appear below:

1. Chúi-tng-kha (水返腳) → Sek-chí / Xizhi (汐止) Hokkien origin
2. Sek-kháu (錫口) → Siông-san / Songshan (松山) Hokkien origin
3. Pressinowan (叭哩沙) → Sam-sing / Sanxing (三星) Ketagalan origin
4. Pang-kiô (枋橋) → Pang-kiô / Banqiao (板橋) Hokkien origin
5. Sann-kak-íng (三角湧) → Sam-kiap / Sanxia (三峽) Hokkien origin
6. Kiâm-chhài-àng (鹹菜硼) → Guanˋ si / Guanxi (關西) Hakka origin
7. On Phìn-tsṳ́n (安平鎮) → Phìn-tsun / Pingzhen (平鎮) Hakka origin
8. Rhong moi lag (楊梅壢) → Rhong moi / Yangmei (楊梅) Hakka origin
9. Takoham (大嵙崁) → Thai-hâi / Daxi (大溪) Ketagalan origin
10. Su-gi-na (樹杞林) → Tek-tang / Zhudong (竹東) Hakka origin
11. Co-sân (草山) → Pó-sân / Baoshan (寶山) Hakka origin
12. Tonsuyan (屯消) → Thunsiau / Tongxiao (通霄) Taokas Origin
13. Ataabu (阿罩霧) → Bu-hong / Wufeng (霧峰) Hoanya origin
14. Sann-tsa̍p-tiunn-lê (三十張犁) → Pak-tun / Beitun (北屯) Hokkien origin
15. Thài-pîng (太平) → Tua-pîng / Daping (大平) Hokkien origin
16. Holotun (葫蘆墩) → Hong-guân / Fengyuan (豐原) Saisiyat origin
17. Gû-mâ-thâu (牛罵頭) → Tshing-tsuí / Qingshui (清水) Hokkien origin
18. Ka-tâu (茄投) → Liông-tsínn / Longjing (龍井) Hokkien origin
19. Khóo Ka-ióng (茄苳腳) → Hue-tuânn / Huatan (花壇) Hokkien origin
20. Kuan-tè thiann (關帝廳) → Éng-tseng / Yongjing (永靖) Hokkien origin
21. Huan-á-uat (番仔挖) → Sua-suann / Shashan (沙山) Hokkien origin
22. Chháu-ê-tun (草鞋墩) → Chháu-tùn / Caotun (草屯) Hokkien origin
23. Lâm-ngá (湳仔) → Bêng-kan / Mingjian (名間) Hokkien origin
24. Toukouva (塗庫) → Jîn-tik / Rende (仁德) Siraya origin
25. Tavocan (大目降) → Sin-huà / Hsinhua (新化) Siraya origin
26. Tapani (噍吧哖) → Ta-pa-nî / Yujing (玉井) Taivoan origin
27. Tackalan (直加弄) → An-ting / Anding (安定) Siraya origin
28. Saulang (蕭壠) → Ka-lí / Jiali (佳里) Siraya origin
29. Tiàm-á-kháu (店仔口) → Peh-hô / Baihe (白河) Hokkien origin
30. Tá-bâ (打貓) → Bîn-hiông / Minxiong (民雄) Hoanya origin
31. Muî-a-khenn (梅仔坑) → Sió-muî / Xiaomei (小梅) Hokkien origin
32. Dalivoe (他里霧) → Táu-lâm-tìn / Dounan (斗南) Hoanya origin
33. Phok-a-kioh (樸仔腳) → Phoh-tsú / Puzi (朴子) Hokkien origin
34. Takao (打狗) → Ko-hiông / Kaohsiung (高雄) Makatao origin
35. Han-chî-liâu (蕃薯藔) → Kî-san / Qishan (旗山) Hakka origin
36. Mì-nùng (彌濃) → Mì-nùng / Meinong (美濃) Hakka origin
37. Akaw (阿緱) → Pîn-tong / Pingtung (屏東) Paiwan origin
38. Vangecul (蚊蟀) → Buán-tsiu / Manzhou (滿州) Paiwan origin
39. Má-keng (媽宮) → Má-keng / Magong (馬公) Hokkien origin

In some cases the names of these towns changed completely, but for the most part most of them remained the same, albeit with simple changes in the ‘Kanji’ (Chinese characters) that were thought to make them more ‘elegant.’

To better explain what I mean, I’m going to start by offering a few specific, and probably the most obvious, examples of how these names changed:

The most obvious example of these name changes was in the southern port city that we refer today as Kaohsiung. Originally inhabited by the Makatao (馬卡道族) and Siraya (西拉雅族) indigenous groups, the area was referred as ‘Takau Island’ translating to 'bamboo forest island’ in the indigenous languages. When Chinese settlers arrived in the area, they heard the name ‘Takau’ and assigned the Chinese characters ‘打狗’, which translates literally as ‘beating a dog,’ something none of us should ever do.

When the Japanese arrived in Taiwan, the name of the city remained the same, but in 1920, they changed the Kanji from ‘打狗’ to ‘高雄’ (高雄 / たかお), which had the same 'pronunciation in Japanese. Considered far too crude to be the name of a Japanese city and an international port, the colonial government came up with something that was so good that when the Chinese Nationalists arrived in 1945, instead of changing the name from the Japanese 'Takao', they just left the Chinese characters the same, which is why the city has since been known as ‘Kaohsiung' in the Chinese language.

In a similar case, the town we know today as Minxiong (民雄) also had a name that the Japanese frowned upon - The (then) small village in Chiayi (嘉義) was originally named ’Dovaha’ (擔貍社) by the Dutch, who gave it the name in honor of the Pingpu Tribe (平埔族) that settled there. Later, the name was translated from Dutch into Taiwanese Hokkien as ‘Tá-bâ’ (打貓), or ‘beating a cat.’ Once again, instead of changing the pronunciation of the name, different characters were chosen to represent the town. Pronounced ‘Tamio’ (たみお) in Japanese, the words “民雄” (Hero of the People) were chosen instead.

There are of course other examples of how these name changes took place that didn’t have to do with animal cruelty, or the names being inappropriate. Take Kaohsiung’s district of Gangshan (岡山區) as an example. Originally named ‘A-kong-tiàm‘ (阿公店), or ‘Grandfather’s Shop’, the origin of the name of the town has a few different interpretations. One explanation was that due to its geographic location as a trading space between the ports in Tainan and Kaohsiung, the area was full of stores run by seniors. Hilariously, there are also claims that the name was actually just given to the space because there was an old guy in the middle of no where with a store.

Either way, the name ‘A-kong-tiàm’ didn’t really translate very well to Japanese, so they changed it entirely - The new name for the district of Takao Prefecture, which was being developed as a suburb became known as ‘Okayama’ (岡山 / おかやま), named after one of the Japanese main island’s prefectures. Once again, when the Republic of China took over in the 1940s, the name remained the same, with the pronunciation changed to ‘Gangshan’ instead of ‘Okayama’ and remains so to this day.

There is, however, a reservoir in the area that retains the ‘A-kong-tiàm’ name, a nod to the town’s history.

Link: 大字 (おおあざ) | 小字 (こあざ) - Wikipedia

My final example before moving on is one that is simply just a linguistic difference between Chinese, Taiwanese and Japanese, and most of the name changes that took place are due to these linguistic differences. If I use the Japanese-era ‘Shanjia Train Station’ (山佳車站) as an example, the original name of the area was ‘Suann á kioh’ (山仔腳), referring to its location at the foot of a mountain. The problem was that the character ‘仔’(zai), which is quite common in Taiwanese Hokkien isn’t very common in Japanese.

When it came to characters that weren’t commonly used in Kanji, like this, they simply replaced the ‘仔’ with a similar, simplified version of the character, like ‘子’, for example.

With these examples, I think you should have somewhat of an introduction to the thought process behind some of these changes. In some instances, the Japanese felt the names were inappropriate, in others they just didn’t translate well, and in others, they were simplified for convenience. Below, I’ll list each of the name changes that are displayed on the chart.

At this time, I’m not going to go into detail about the origin of each of the names, but I will provide their original name, their Japanese-era name, and their current name so that you can better understand how these things have evolved over time. If you’re interested in the linguistic changes mentioned in the third example above, click the drop down below, where I’ve provided a list of the most common character changes:

‘(á) zi’ 「仔」was changed to ‘zi’「子」
‘hong’「藔」was changed to ‘liáo’「寮」
‘hun’ 「份」was changed to ‘fèn’ 「分」
‘bei’ 「陂」was changed to ‘po’ 「坡」
‘shén’「什」was changed to ‘shí’「十」
‘tun’「墩」was changed to ‘tún’「屯」
‘ào’「澚」was changed to ‘ào’「澳」
‘gang’「崗」was changed to ‘gang’「岡」
‘khu’「坵」was changed to ‘qiu’「丘」
‘muâ’「蔴」was changed to ‘má’「麻」
‘diàn’「佃」was changed to ‘tián’「田」

Now, let me spend some time dissecting the inspiration for this article, the photo that appeared on my social media feed, all of which I’ve broken up and translated for you below:

To start, in the direct center of the diagram, you’ll find the vertical text: “Taisho Year 11, Taiwan Railway Station Name Change Chart” (大正十一年台灣鐵道停車場中改稱名新舊對照表), splitting the diagram into four different sections, or regions of the island.

For each of the stations, I’ll start with their original Japanese name, their name after being changed, and then their current name. I’ll also provide a link to each of the stations for any of you who are interested in learning more about the stations, many of which are now well-over a century old.

Note: In some cases, the romanization of these names could be a bit off, but I’ve done my best translating from several different languages to give readers a better idea of these changes.

Starting in the south, we have the following eleven name changes:

Chushusou Station (中州庄乗降場) → Chushu Station (中州驛 / ちゅうしゅうえき) → Zhongzhou Station (中洲車站)
Shinshigai Station (新市街驛 / しんしがいえき) → Shinshi Station (新市驛 / しんしえき) → Xinshi Station (新市車站)
Wanri Station (灣裡驛／わんりえき) → Zenka Station (善化 / ぜんかえき) → Shanhua Station (善化車站)
Hanshiten Station (番仔田停車場) → Hanshiten Station (番子田驛 / はんしてんえき) → Longtian Station (隆田車站)
Shin’eisho Station (新營庄驛 / しんえいしょうえき) → Shin’ei Station (新營驛 / しんえいしょうえき) → Xinying Station (新營車站)
Koheki’ryo Station (後壁藔停車場 / こうへきりょうえき) → Koheki Station (後壁驛 / こうへきえき) → Houbi Station (後壁車站)
Suikuttao Station (水堀頭驛 / すいほりとうえき) → Suijo Station (水上驛 / すいじょうえき) → Shuishang Station (水上車站)
Dabyo Station (打猫驛／だびょうえき) → Tamio Station (民雄驛 / たみおえき) → Minxiong Station (民雄車站)
Taihorin Station (大莆林驛 / たいほりんえき) → Tairin Station (大林驛 / たいりんえき) → Dalin Station (大林車站)
Tarimu Station (他里霧驛 / たりむりんえき) → Toroku Station (斗六驛／とろくえき) → Douliu Station (斗六車站)
Nihachisui Station (二八水驛 / にはちすいえき) → Nisui Station (二水驛) → Ershui Station (二水車站 / にすいえき)

On the top right, we have the following eleven name changes in the north:

Komota Station (紅毛田驛 / こうもうたえき) → Komo Station (紅毛驛 / こうもうえき) → (1934) Chikuhoku Station (竹北驛／ちくほくえき) - Chubei Station (竹北車站)
Taikoko Station (大湖口驛 / たいここうえき) → Kokō Station (湖口驛 / ここうえき) → Hukou Station (湖口車站)
Yōbair Station (楊梅壢驛 / ようばいれき) → Yobai Station (楊梅驛 / ようばいえき) → Yangmei Station (楊梅車站)
Heianchin Station (平安鎮驛 / へいあんちんえき) → Heichin Station (平鎮驛 / へいちんえき) → Puxin Station (埔心車站)
Kanshikyaku Station (崁仔脚驛 / かんしきゃくえき) → Kanshikyaku Station (崁子脚驛 / かんしきゃくえき) → Neili Station (內壢車站)
Okaishi Station (鶯歌石驛 / おうかいしえき) → Oka Station (鶯歌驛 / おうかえき) → Yingge Station (鶯歌車站)
Yamakogashi Station (山仔脚驛 / やまごあしえき) → Yamakogashi Station (山子腳驛 / やまごあしえき) → Shanjia Station (山佳車站)
Bankyo Station (枋橋驛 / ばんきょうえき) → Itahashi Station (板橋驛 / いたはしえき) → Banqiao Station (板橋車站)
Báng-kah Station (艋舺驛 / まんかえき) → Manka Station (萬華驛 / まんかえき) → Wanhua Station (萬華車站)
Suzuko Station (錫口驛 / すずこうえき) → Matsuyama Station (松山驛 / まつやまえき) → Songshan Station (松山車站)
Suihenkyaku Station (水返脚驛 / すいへんきゃくえき) → Shiodome Station (汐止驛 / しおどめえき) → Xizhi Station (汐止車站)

On the bottom left, we have the following eleven name changes on the east coast and in the south of Taiwan.

Suo Station (蘇澚驛 / そおうえき) → Suo Station (蘇澳驛 / そおうえき) → Su’ao Station (蘇澳車站)
Togazan Station (冬瓜山驛 / とうがざんえき) → Tozan Station (冬山驛 / とうざんえき) → Dongshan Station (東山車站)
Nonnongai Station (暖暖街驛 / だんだんがいえき) → Nonnon Station (暖暖驛 / だんだんえき) → Nuannuan Station (暖暖車站)
Tonbutsu Station (頓物驛 /とんぶつえき) → Takeda Station (竹田驛 / たけだえき) → Zhutian Station (竹田車站)
Ako Station (阿緱驛 / あこうえき) → Heito Station (屏東驛 / へいとうえき) → Pingtung Station (屏東車站)
Takao Station (打狗驛 / たかおえき) → Takao Station (高雄驛 / たかおえき) → Kaohsiung Station (高雄車站)
Nanshiko Station (楠仔坑驛 / なんしこうえき) → Nanshi Station (楠摔驛 / なんしえき) → Nanzi Station (楠梓車站)
Kyokoto Station (橋仔頭驛 / きょうことうえき) → Kyokoto Station (橋子頭驛 / きょうことうえき) → Qiaotou Station (橋頭車站)
Akotentei Station (阿公店驛 / あこうてんていえき) → Okayama Station (岡山驛 / をかやまえき) → Gangshan Station (岡山車站)
Hanrochiku station (半路竹驛 / はんろちくえき) → Rochiku Station (路竹驛 / ろちくえき) → Luzhu Station (路竹車站)
Daikogai Station (大湖街驛 / だいこがいえき) → Daiko Station (大湖驛 / だいこえき) → Dahu Station (大湖車站)

Finally, on the bottom right, we have the following eleven name changes in central Taiwan:

Tanakaou Station (田中央驛 / でんちゅうおうえき) → Tanaka Station (田中驛 / でんちゅうえき) → Tianzhong Station (田中車站)
Katokyaku Station (茄蔘腳驛 / かとうきゃえき) → Kadan Station (花壇驛 / かだんえき) → Huatan Station (花壇車站)
Daito Station (大肚驛 / だいとえき) → Oda Station (王田驛 / おうたえき) → Chenggong Station (成功車站)
Tanshiken Station (潭仔乾驛 / たんしけん) → Tanshi Station (潭子驛 / たんしえき) → Tanzi Station (潭子車站)
Koroton Station (葫產激驛 / ころとんえき) → Toyohara Station (豐原驛 / とよはらえき) → Fengyuan Station (豐原車站)
Korisou Station (后里庄驛 / こうりそうえき) → Kori Station (后里驛 / こうりえき) → Houli Station (后里車站)
Taiankei Station (大安溪驛 /だいあんけいえき) → Tai’an Station (大安驛 / たいあんえき) → Tai’an Station (泰安車站)
Sansagawa Station (三叉河驛 / さんさがわえき) → Sansa Station (三叉驛 / さんさえき) → Sanyi Station (三義車站)
Dorawan Station (銅鑼灣驛 / どうらわんえき) → Dora Station (銅鑼驛 / どうらえき) → Tongluo Station (銅鑼車站)
Koryu Station (後壠 /こうりゅうえき) → Koryu Station (後龍驛 / こうりゅうえき) → Houlong Station (後龍車站)
Chuko Station (中港驛 /ちゅうこうえき) → Chikunan Station (竹南驛 / ちくなんえき) → Zhunan Station (竹南車站)

Now that we’ve got all of that out of the way, it’s time to talk a little about the photo, and some rather obvious aspects of it that I probably should have noticed much earlier than I did.

The old adage ‘a picture tells a thousand words’ proves quite important with regard to the chart. You could argue that it’s not exactly a ‘picture,’ nor are there a thousand words on it, but after studying it for a while, I started to notice things that wouldn’t have been there if it were an original announcement from 1922. One of the first things that I should have noticed was that on the very top of the chart, under the two crests, the words “Showa Era” (昭和時代) and “Taisho Era” (大正時代).

The problem with this was that if the chart was released in 1922, it would be a bit strange to see the acknowledgement of the Showa Era there, given that it started on December 25, 1926, and lasted until the death of Emperor Showa on January 7th, 1989. Those ‘era’s are repeated once again at the top of the chart in smaller-case font with the addition of the Meiji Era (明治時代), which preceded the Taisho era. Essentially, the chart was more or less just listing the three emperors who oversaw control of Taiwan during the Japanese-era.

Historic railway stations in Taiwan, recreated by Taiwan Restoration.

What I should have noticed from the outset were the words “Taiwan Restoration” (台湾維新) - You’ll have to forgive me if what I say here seems like an advertisement, but a few years back I purchased a beautifully designed poster-like print that featured the logos that represented Taiwan’s various cities during the Japanese-era. Design-wise, I’m a big fan of them, especially compared to the ghastly logos that are used these days.

I purchased the print at a local bookstore, but it was produced by the very same ‘Taiwan Restoration’ person (or group) mentioned above. While you can still find quite a few of their designs for sale online, they haven’t really been very active updating their social media page in the past few years, so I can’t really tell you if it’s all being designed by a single person or a group of people. What I can tell you is that they’re (probably) not affiliated with the ‘Taiwan Renewal Party’, which shares the same Chinese name.

Link: Taiwan Restoration (Facebook) | Ruten Store: 台湾維新 | GJ Taiwan Store

Taking a look at the Facebook page, it strikes me that the products that they’re selling are all designed quite well, making use of some of the iconography that was prevalent during the Japanese-era. Obviously, as I mentioned earlier, I’m a fan of the logos that were created to signify Taiwan, and its major towns and cities. That being said, they’ve designed quite a few things that celebrate Taiwan’s railroad, which I really appreciate.

Now that I’ve done some looking into their products, I might actually try to purchase some more, if they’re still available. Unfortunately, it seems like quite a few of their products are sold out, have been for some time, and I’m not particularly sure if they’ll ever be restocked.

Nevertheless, before I leave you, with regard to all of the name changes that took place in Taiwan during the Japanese-era, the diagram above only features a small percentage of the location names that were changed. This is because it is only a representation of the railway stations that changed their names to reflect the changes in their community. The evolution of how these names of places around the country have changed over the centuries is a subject that is not covered very well in the English language, but it is a fascinating topic that paints a much broader story of how this beautiful island has changed as it has developed over the past few centuries.

References

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Mar 9, 2024

Usa Grand Shrine (宇佐神宮)

Mar 9, 2024

Qiding Railway Tunnels (崎頂子母隧道)

May 28, 2022 in Japanese Colonial Era, Miaoli, Photo Post, Travel

I’ve spent a considerable amount of time over the past year taking photos, researching, and writing about Japanese-era related railway destinations around the country. Having posted articles about railway museums, railway factories, railway stations and dormitories, today’s subject is somewhat of a new one for me as I haven’t had the chance to write about railway tunnels thus far.

Given that my main focus with these articles is related to Japanese-era architecture, you might wonder why I’d make an effort to write about a set of tunnels - Sure, they date back to the colonial era, but their architectural significance is clearly not what I usually spend my time writing about. For many reasons however, these two tunnels located in northern Miaoli are historically significant, and they are actually rather photogenic, if I’m telling the truth.

That being said, I’ve always found it a bit strange when I’m out taking photos of all of these beautiful old Japanese-era buildings that I rarely ever come across Instagram influencers taking a billion photos of themselves with all of their weird poses, while a couple empty railway tunnels in Miaoli attracts them them like vultures hovering over a dead body.

Coincidentally, even though I’ve had these tunnels on my list of places to visit for quite a while, it wasn’t actually me who suggested visiting. I had planned a day trip along the Coastal Railway taking photos of the so-called Miaoli Three Treasures (苗栗三寶), three stations located along the coastal railway that have each been in service for a hundred years. To take away from the monotony of visiting a bunch of railway stations, my significant other suggested we add these tunnels as part of our itinerary, to which I agreed.

Link: Miaoli Three Treasures: Dashan Station, Tanwen Station, Xinpu Station

For reasons I don’t particularly understand, these century-old tunnels are considerably more popular than the vast majority of the restored Japanese-era buildings that have opened to the public as culture parks. So, when the local government re-opened them as part of the Qiding Tunnel Culture Park (崎頂隧道文化公園), all it took was a few clever Instagram posts, and a scene reminiscent of a popular Japanese anime to turn the area into an overnight sensation, with people coming from all over the country to visit.

But before I start to introduce the tunnels, allow me a quick minute of your time to rant about something that I think is pretty important: Miaoli is a pretty special place, almost like a country of its own if you will - It’s also a very historic place, with a considerable amount of locations that are significant with regard to Taiwan’s history. Unfortunately Miaoli has been run into the ground by successive local governments that have one after another bankrupted the county. Given that there is so little money to go around, it shouldn’t be a huge surprise that the local government is forced to be very particular about the historic sites that they choose to restore when the annual budget is released.

In recent years, these Qiding Tunnels, as well as some other railway tunnels have received some much needed attention and have opened up as popular tourist attractions, and that’s great. However, there are other historic sites, which are arguably more important and require more attention.

Within the vicinity of these tunnels, you’ll find the so-called ‘three-treasures’ mentioned above, each of which are desperate for a little attention. Similarly parts of the Tungxiao Shrine have yet to receive much attention, despite the amount of tourists that visit. In addition to Japanese-era sites, there is also a long list of other buildings that span hundreds of years of Taiwan’s history that are being sorely neglected.

My point here is not to say that important restoration funding being provided for these tunnels was a bad decision - in fact I’m happy when any historic structure gets restored, but I think it does point to a larger problem with regard to a lack of priorities from the local government.

Miaoli is a huge county that spans almost 2000 square kilometers from the mountains to the coast, and my sincere hope is that the local government can at some point turn things around and get back on track so that these issues can be addressed in a responsible manner.

Ok, thats the end of my rant. As I move on below, I’m going to focus simply on the history of these tunnels, and will spend some time on the culture park that is located there today. I’ll also talk a bit about the train station that is an important part of the park, and contributes to the popularity of the area today. Before I do that though, I’ll provide a brief explanation of the historical signifiance of the area.

Laoquqi / Kicho / Qiding (老衢崎 / きちょ / 崎頂)

The Qiding area, known historically as ‘Laoquqi’ (老衢崎) is located just across the border from Hsinchu County as you pass into Miaoli, and is currently part of Zhunan Township (竹南鎮), separated from the rest of the town by Jianbi Mountain (尖筆山). Amazingly, this quiet part of town was part of a strategically important historic road system that allowed people to travel from the north to south and vice versa.

The road was strategic in that it was close enough to the coast, but far away enough from the mountains that people could pass by relatively safely. This was due to the fact that prior to the arrival of the Japanese, the area was scarcely populated, and the further you moved inland, the higher the percentage you had of never returning. During the Qing dynasty, transporting goods by land was a treacherous enterprise, and the indigenous people didn’t take kindly to immigrants from China - or anywhere else for that matter - encroaching on their territory.

That being said, two separate events have made the ‘Laoquqi’ area stand out as it was the setting for an important battle, and the arrest of a renowned rebel leader. Starting with the latter, in 1786 (乾隆51年), Lin Shuangwen (林爽文), leader of the Heaven and Earth Society (天地會), a secretive Anti-Qing group, formed an army of Ming-loyalists and quickly incapacitated the weak hold that the Qing governors held over Taiwan.

In response, the emperor quickly sent troops to Taiwan to put down the rebellion, but the poorly organized army found themselves easily bested by the rebels who knew the land much better. The turning point in the short-lived war however came when the rebels started murdering the Hakka and Teochew immigrants, resulting in them forming their own militias and working together with the Qing forces to put down the rebellion. With his army’s defeat, Lin Shuangwen retreated and was later found hiding in the Laoquqi area where he was arrested and then later executed.

The rebellion may have only lasted for a year, but its ramifications have had long lasted effects on Taiwan, making it one of the island’s most significant military-related events, and even though the man himself was branded as a criminal and a rebel, his reputation has somewhat improved over the years as his ‘bravery’ at taking on the Qing rulers is something that the Chinese Nationalists tried to capitalize given that they waged the same battle.

Making things a little more interesting, both Sun Yat-Sen (孫中山) and Chiang Kai-shek were members of the same secretive society that Lin himself was once a prominent leader in.

Link: Linshuang Wen Rebellion | Tiandihui (Wiki)

Then, in 1895 (明治28), shortly after the Japanese took control of Hsinchu, a group of anti-Japanese rebels started massing on Jianbi Mountain in an attempt to prevent Japanese forces from moving further south.

The group, numbering around 7000, put up a valiant effort against the Japanese, who outnumbered them and were better equipped, resulting in a relatively quick defeat.

Still, like the situation above, they are remembered today for their heroic efforts.

What do either of these events have to do with the tunnels? Not a lot.

But they do cement the fact that the area we currently refer to as Qiding has been a significant one throughout Taiwan’s modern development and that there are quite a few stories to be told thanks to these beautiful little hills along the western coast.

Fortunately those stories are told as you pass through the tunnels and make your way along the newly created culture park that offers informative guides about the history of the area.

Kichō #1 and #2 Tunnels (崎頂隧道)

You might be thinking, they’re just a couple of tunnels, how could they be all that important?

And sure, I’d tend to agree, but when it comes to the Japanese, there has always been a bit of an obsessive compulsive tendency to ensure that things run as efficiently as humanly possible. These tunnels are essentially a result of that cultural drive for perfection in all things and their construction was an important step in ensuring the efficiency of the Western Trunk Railway, years after it went into service.

Construction on the Kicho #1 and #2 Tunnels (崎頂一號隧道崎頂二號隧道), better known today as the “Qiding Tunnels” (崎頂隧道) or the “Qiding Mother and Son Tunnels” (崎頂子母隧道) started in 1926 (昭和元年) and were completed two years later in 1928 (昭和三年).

Something important that you’ll want to keep in mind is that 1926 was officially the inaugural year (元年) of the Showa Emperor’s (昭和皇帝) rule, and as it was a period of transition within Japan, it as also an important year for the construction of ambitious projects across Japan, and here in Taiwan as celebrations were taking place throughout the empire for the new era.

The Jūkan Tetsudo Project (ゅうかんてつどう / 縱貫鐵道), otherwise known as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway Project’ sought to have the railroad pass through all of Taiwan’s already established settlements, including Kirin (基隆), Taihoku (臺北), Shinchiku (新竹), Taichu (臺中), Tainan (臺南) and Takao (高雄). Completed in 1908 (明治41), the more than four-hundred kilometer railway connected the north to the south for the first time ever, and was all part of the Japanese Colonial Government’s master plan to ensure that Taiwan’s precious natural resources would be able to flow smoothy out of the ports in Northern, Central, and Southern Taiwan.

After several years of operation however, the Railway Department of the Governor General’s Office (臺灣總督府交通局鐵道部) came to the conclusion that the existing track between Kozan (香山驛 / こうざんえき) and Chikunan (竹南驛／ちくなんえき) had some fundamental issues that needed to be resolved as the stretch of rail around the Jianbi Mountain (尖筆山) area needed to be addressed. The railway, which originally traveled directly from Kozan to Chikunan (Currently Xiangshan and Chunan) featured the 146 meter-long Jianbi Mountain Tunnel (尖筆山隧道), and an unfavorably steep incline that slowed trains down.

Given that the late 1920s thrust Chikunan Station into a more important role as it was where the Mountain Line (山線) and the Coastal Line (海岸線) split, there would have been a considerable amount of freight traffic passing through the area in addition to passenger trains. The inefficiency of the single-lane tunnel forced the railway engineers to come up with plans for the Jianbi Mountain Railway Improvement Project (尖筆山附近改良線), which rerouted the railroad through Kicho (崎頂) on the western side of the mountain and then south-east into Chikunan.

As a result, the railway added the “Kicho Signal Station” (崎頂信号場 / きちょしんごうじょう) in 1928 (昭和3年), which three years later was upgraded into Kicho Railway Station (崎頂驛 / きちょえき). However, as the railway was rerouted to the western side of Jianbi Mountain, the problem still remained that the railway would at some point have to pass through a mountain tunnel prior to arriving in Qiding.

This time the engineers solved a couple of issues:

The tunnels were constructed in an area where there wasn’t an incline.
The tunnels were constructed to be wide enough to allow two lanes of traffic to pass through.

The first tunnel (一號) has a length of 130.78 meters while the second (二號) is 67.48 meters, both of which have a width of 8 meters each, making them wide enough for dual rails. The lower potion of each of the tunnels was fortified with reinforced concrete while the curved upper half has beautiful red brick masonry, which is considered to be rather unique for the construction of rail tunnels like this in Taiwan. It also ensured that the tunnels were extremely durable as the high-quality materials have allowed the tunnels to remain intact for close to a century.

For most English speakers, I’m assuming that naming of the tunnels seems a bit generic - However, for reasons I don’t particularly understand, they have been nicknamed by locals as the “Mother and Son tunnels” (子母隧道), which I’m assuming is due to the fact that one of them is longer than the other? Personally, I prefer to stick with #1 and #2 for clairity sake.

Anyway, they’re just railway tunnels, there’s not much else to say about them save for the events of the Second World War, and their ultimate abandonment.

In 1945 (昭和20年), during the latter stages of the Second World War, the frequency of allied airstrikes on Taiwan had increased considerably, and the railway was one of their favorite targets. Chikunan Station for example was bombed on several occasions and as the trains stretched along the coast they became sitting ducks for bombers. The tunnels thus became an important area for not only hiding trains as the airstrikes were taking place, but also a safe space for the locals to evacuate. Knowing this, the allies often fired machine guns from the air at the tunnels and today you can still find traces of these attacks within the tunnels in the form of bullet holes.

In the 1970s when the Taiwan Railway Administration started to electrify the railway, the clearance within the tunnels proved to be insufficient, so the railway had to once again be diverted. The tunnels were officially abandoned in 1978 (民國67年) when the electrified route between Keelung (基隆) and Jhunan (竹南) was completed.

On June 24th, 2005, the tunnels were registered as as Miaoli County Protected Historic Site (苗栗縣歷史建築) and funding was allocated through the Jhunan Township Office (竹南鎮公所) to restore the area and open it up for tourism. Soon after the Qiding Tunnel Cultural Park (崎頂隧道文化公園) was opened, offering a walking path from the nearby railway station to the tunnels and includes some informative displays for visitors to learn about the history of the area.

And then shortly after they became a huge hit on Instagram and people from all over Taiwan started visiting!

Qiding Railway Station (崎頂火車站)

Taking into consideration how Qiding Railway Station is the starting point for most people’s visit to the culture park, I’m going to take just a minute to talk about the railway station in its current existence, and why it is an Instagram hot spot in its own right.

First, as mentioned above, Qiding Station first opened in 1931 (昭和6年) as a small Japanese-style wooden station similar to that of nearby Xiangshan Station, Dashan Station and Tanwen Station. Unfortunately in 1996 (民國85年) that station was torn down and replaced with an unimpressive-looking modern structure.

The highlight of the station however isn’t actually the station itself.

To reach the station you have to walk down a steep set of stairs, which has become a popular Instagram spot thanks to its resemblance to a scene in the popular 2016 Japanese anime titled “Your Name” (你的名字/ 君の名は). Taking inspiration from the real-life stairs at the Suga Shrine (須賀神社) in Shinjuku, Tokyo, the stairs at Qiding Station have become a popular spot for young Taiwanese couples who recreate the scene for Instagram or even wedding photos.

No matter what your reason for visiting, the Qiding Tunnel Culture Park is a nice spot to spend part of your day if you find yourself in the area. If you’re there just for the Instagram photos, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself as the area really is quite picturesque.

I know I tend to go far too in-depth with these things, but with so little historical information available about the area, I hope this article helps people understand the tunnels a bit more.

Getting There

Address: No. 12, Nangang St, Zhunan Township, Miaoli County (苗栗縣竹南鎮南港街12號)
GPS: 24.730040, 120.878690

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

In fact, if you don’t have access to your own means of transportation, be it car, scooter or a bicycle, you’ll discover that it’s going to be somewhat difficult to visit Qiding as it is located in a remote area where public transportation is pretty much non-existent, save for the train!

Located just across the border from Hsinchu, the Qiding area is only a few stops south of Hsinchu Train Station, so if you’re traveling from the north, getting to the area shouldn’t take that much time. More precisely, Qiding is a fourteen minute ride south from Hsinchu Station on one of Taiwan Railway’s local commuter trains (區間車). That being said, once you’ve arrived at Hsinchu Station, if you’ve taken an express train, you’ll have to get off and transfer to one of the local trains as the express trains won’t stop at Qiding Station.

From Qiding Station, the tunnels are a short walk away through a well-developed tourist path, so you shouldn’t have much trouble finding your way.

If you have access to your own means of transportation, you should be able to get yourself to the area quite easily if you input the address or the GPS provided above. There are however two different sides to the park that you’ll want to keep in mind. The first is the northern portion, which is closest to the tunnels.

This area is located along a very narrow road, but provides an ample amount of free parking. If you’re driving a car, this is probably the better area to park, but getting in and out can be somewhat treacherous as the road to the parking lot wasn’t constructed to accommodate a lot of traffic.

The other area where you can park is on the southern side closer to the train station. This side only allows for road-side parking, but can be rather difficult to find a space when the area is busy.

If you’re driving a scooter on the other hand, both sides are pretty easy to get to and you’ll easily find a place to park your scooter.

Finally, if you’re out for the day enjoying the beautiful Xiangshan Wetlands (香山濕地) on your bicycle, or a rented YouBike, with a little extra effort, you’ll also be able to enjoy the Qiding Area as it is a short detour off of the southern portion of the popular coastal bike path. The tunnels are a little over five kilometers from Xiangshan Train Station, and you’ll get to pass by the popular Xiangshan Sand Dunes (香山沙丘), the Sound of the Sea (海之聲) in the southern section of the wetlands.

References

崎頂車站．當日光穿透過子母隧道時 (旅行圖中)
崎頂一、二號隧道 (Wiki)
尖筆山隧道 (Wiki)
崎頂車站 (Wiki)
說走就走的親子半日遊，苗栗火車小旅行漫步崎頂車站與子母隧道 (微笑台灣)
[苗栗竹南]．崎頂鐵路懷舊隧道 (Tony的自然人文旅記)
見證歷史的小鎮──崎頂 (民報)
Venturing Forth —Taiwan’s Branch Rail Lines (台灣外交部)
Qiding Tunnels (苗栗旅遊網)

Gallery / Flickr (High Res Shots)

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Shanjia Train Station (山佳車站)

April 30, 2022 in Japanese Colonial Era, New Taipei City, Photo Post, Travel

I’ve been criss-crossing the country over the past year in search of the sites related to the Japanese-era railway. As one the research projects I started this year, I’ve tried my best to visit as many of the historic railway factories, offices, dormitories, and historic stations as I could in order to document what many people believe to be one of the most important aspects of Taiwan’s modern development. Having authored close to a dozen articles this year, I’ve only covered a small percentage of what actually remains, so this is one of those projects that will continue for the foreseeable future.

The ironic thing is that while I’ve been traveling across the country in search of these historic buildings, the one that was actually the closest to me, a station that I must have passed by hundreds of times remained at the back of my long list of places to visit. Located just a few stops away from home, Shanjia Station in New Taipei’s Shulin District (樹林區) is one of those beautiful Japanese-era stations that has been recently restored and re-opened to the public as a cultural attraction, while the modern station to the rear continues service.

Every time I passed by the station on my way to Taipei, I’d say to myself “I should really stop by some day soon to get some photos” as I enjoyed the view of the station from the window of the train. It started to become a bit of a running joke that I would repeatedly say the same thing every time we passed by.

I realize this probably isn’t a huge selling point for anyone thinking of visiting, but one of the main reasons why I never actually got off the train to check out the station is that there isn’t very much else to see in the area.

For reasons I’ll get into later, the station was historically an important one, but the area around it doesn’t really offer much for tourists looking for something to do, unless you’re riding a bike along the river.

Fortunately I found myself on beautiful Autumn day with some extra time, and since I was already in the area, I decided to finally make an effort to stop by to check out this beautiful little station. That being said, unlike some of the Japanese-era stations along the Coastal Railway (海岸線) that I’ve already introduced, this one is similar to the historic Qidu Railway Station (七堵車站) in that it has been completely restored and reopened to the public, while a newly constructed modern station has taken over with regard to passenger services.

There are quite a few Japanese-era stations around the country that have been restored and continue to exist in conjunction with a modern station nearby - Shanjia Station however was the first to follow this model, so the others that we’ve seen reopening around the country as of late are simply following its excellent example.

As I move on below, I’ll introduce the history of this nearly 120 year old station, explain why it was so important for so long, and then go into detail about its architectural design, which is considerably different from many of the wooden Japanese-era stations that remain in Taiwan today.

Shanjia Train Station (山佳車站 / さんかえき)

Dating back to the early years of the Japanese Colonial Era, the station we refer to today as Shanjia Station (山佳車站) was constructed in 1903 (明治36年) as Yamakogashi Station (山仔脚駅 / やまごあしえき) along the Jukan Tetsudo (ゅうかんてつどう ), otherwise known either as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway’ (縱貫鐵道), or the West Coast Railway.

Within a few short years of Japanese control, railway stations started opening for service around the island thanks to the over four hundred kilometer railway constructed between Keelung and Kaohsiung. For the first time in the island’s history, population centers were connected to a modern form of transportation and Yamakogashi Station was one of them.

Over the years, the name of the station has changed on several occasions, but essentially it was named due to its proximity to the base of Datung Mountain (大棟山), a mountain that these days is split between Taoyuan and New Taipei City, and was important to the local community involved in the mining industry.

Interestingly, the name was changed once during the colonial era, but only with regard to the Kanji (Chinese Characters) in the name, and not the actual pronunciation of the station. Originally named “Yamakagashi” (Or Yamagoashi depending on your preferred romanization) with a “仔“ (zi/ zai), a commonly used character in Taiwanese/Hokkien (台語/閩南話), it was later renamed with the character “子” (zi), in a move that was likely made for the convenience of the technology at the time as the original character was less common in Japanese.

Like many of its contemporaries around Taiwan, Yamakagashi Station was originally constructed as a traditional wooden station house, but a few decades after its construction, it was torn down and replaced with the concrete building that we can see today. When you visit the station today you’ll find reference to it being a “century-old” (百年) station, but that’s not exactly true given that the building was we see today was constructed in the early years of the Showa era (昭和) when the usage of concrete was becoming more common around the island. Factually speaking, the beautiful station we can visit today is about ninety years old, but I suppose it sounds more impressive if you say it is almost 120 years old.

For a small station, in what is even much smaller community, especially since the much larger Shulin Station (樹林車站) is located nearby, the number of passengers that pass through the station on a daily basis remains quite impressive. The numbers have gone up and down over the years, but an average of half a million passengers make use of the station on an annual basis, making it a relatively busy station. That being said, historically Yamakagashi Station was known more for the important freight that was loaded at the station than the number of passengers that passed through the turnstiles.

Records from the Japanese era (1917 specifically) indicate that the area around the station accounted just around 300 households, or about 1700 people in total. The station today serves on average around 2000 passengers a day, but back then only around 5-6 people per day.

From this, I’m sure you can gather that the local community has grown quite a bit over the past century.

As mentioned above, the lack of passengers getting on the train at the station didn’t really matter all that much given that it was the loading point for an estimated 25,000 metric tons of coal on an annual basis during the heyday of the mining industry. Similarly, the station was also a focal point for the loading of sand and gravel excavated from the nearby Dahan River in addition to locally farmed white rice.

As one of Taihoku’s (current day ‘Greater Taipei’) six mining communities, Yamakagashi was the only one located on the western side of the Dahan River (大漢溪). The mining industry in the area flourished for quite some time, outlasting the Japanese-era, but at some point in the early 1980s, the area more or less dried up, and it became far too dangerous to continue mining, having a detrimental effect on the local community and the local economy.

Today, many of the old coal mine shafts remain open and a few of them have been restored to allow visitors to go check them out. If you’re so inclined, a visit to the station could also include a hike up the mountain nearby to see some of the mining-related sites. If you’re interested in that, I highly recommend checking out the link below where fellow blogger Tom Rook made the effort on a miserable day to go check out the old shafts.

Link: The Old Mining Village of Shanjia (Over The City)

A few years after the Japanese-era ended, the station was renamed Shanjia Station (山佳車站) and the community around the station grew and diversified around it. As the decades passed the number of passengers traveling through the station ultimately became far too many for the small station house to handle, so it was decided that a larger modern station would have to be constructed to better suit the needs of the local community.

Fortunately the Taiwan Railway Administration had the foresight not to knock the original station down to make way for the new one. So when the new iteration of the station, a gaudy structure devoid of any architectural style, opened to the public in 2011, it was made a bit more respectable by the fact that it had the original Japanese-era station in front.

Before I get into the architectural design of the station, I’ll provide a bit of a timeline of events that took place at the station over the past century.

Timeline

1903 (明治36年) - Yamakoashi Station (山仔脚駅) opens for service.
1920 (大正9年) - The station is renamed Yamakoashi Station (山子脚駅), a slight variation on the original Kanji characters given that the character “仔” is rarely used in Japanese.
1928 (昭和4年) - The original wooden station is demolished and construction on a new station begins.
1931 (昭和6年) - The new (current) cement station is completed and is reopened for service.
1962 (民國51年) - The station is renamed Shanjia Station (山佳車站).
2008 (民國97年) - The station switches primarily to the EasyCard swiping system rather than issuing tickets.
2009 (民國98年) - The original “S” shaped platform is demolished in order to allow express trains to pass through the station more easily.
2011 (民國100年) - The new cross-platform elevated Shanjia Station is opened to the public while the original station is covered in canvas and plans are drawn up to have it restored.
2014 (民國103年) - Typhoon Soudelor (強烈颱風蘇迪勒) causes a considerable amount of damage to the protective covering placed over the historic station. Afterwards, a new protective tent is installed to help preserve the station.
2015 (民國104年) - The restoration project on the original station is started, making it the first of several Japanese-era stations that is set to exist side-by-side with a modern station.
2017 (民國106年) - The restoration project on the station is completed and the historic Shanjia Station is reopened to the public with a railway culture park located along the platform, highlighting the history of the station and the mining activities that made it important.

Architectural Design

The modern Shanjia Station side by side with the historic station

These days, when you walk into the historic Shanjia Station, one of the first things you’ll notice is a very large model of its 1903 predecessor on display in one of the rooms. The original station appears to be quite similar to many of the other small railway stations constructed around Taiwan, but it only ended up lasting about twenty years before it was replaced.

The ‘newer’ historic station, which as mentioned above was completed in 1931 was constructed during a period of the Japanese-era that tends to stand out architecturally-speaking. Having taken control of Taiwan in 1895, the Japanese spent a considerable amount of time developing the island and its infrastructure. For the first couple of decades, many of the buildings constructed were somewhat rudimentary and were thought to be almost temporary as the idea was to first get everything running smoothly before refining things.

By the time the Showa Emperor (昭和皇帝), more commonly known in the west as Emperor Hirohito, took control in 1926 (昭和元年), it was generally thought that the situation in Taiwan had stabilized to the point that the Governor General’s Office was given the go-ahead to start tearing down some of the older buildings and replacing them with newer ones. Similarly this was also when the Japanese architects of the era had started to combine modern construction techniques with traditional Japanese design resulting in an architectural fusion, replacing many of the older wooden buildings with those constructed with reinforced concrete.

Note: Obviously another important factor for some of these rebuilds was due to a number of natural disasters (earthquakes and typhoons) that devastated the island on several occasions over the first few decades of colonial rule.

Official government sources claim that one of the first railway stations to receive such treatment was Yamakoashi Station, and that its construction was something that was to be emulated in other areas around the island. Unfortunately, there is little information available with regard to the architectural design of the station, so I can’t actually confirm whether or not those claims are true, but given the period that it was constructed, its quite possible.

Regardless, there are two things we should keep in mind here - the first being that it is somewhat of a tradition that whenever a new emperor takes control in Japan, it is common to see ambitious construction projects taking place with the new ruler wanting to solidify his legacy, over those that came before. Secondly, those buildings constructed in Taiwan during the early years of the Showa era tend to stand out more because they took a modern approach to construction in that they combined western techniques with Japanese design.

Note: It is important to take note that even though the early years of a new emperor’s reign are known for construction and infrastructure projects, the Showa era (1926-1989) started out suffering from the devastating effects of the Great Kanto Earthquake (関東大地震) of 1923, and a number of other economic factors resulting in the Shōwa Financial Crisis (昭和金融恐慌) of 1927. The Governor Generals Office in Taiwan at the time would have been responsible for fund raising for any construction project, but growing militarism back in Japan and the Second World War ensured that money for development projects was modest from the 1940s onward.

Preceding Emperor Showa, the Taisho Era (大正), from 1912 until 1926, was known for the way Japanese architects fused traditional design with Western architectural design, especially when it came to Art-Deco and the usage of reinforced concrete to build larger structures. Thus, the early years of the Showa era continued along that path with the preferred method of construction involving concrete rather wood. That being said, it was during this period that fervent Japanese nationalism was promoted throughout the empire, resulting in military campaigns throughout Asia.

Note: It was during this period that the strict Kominka (皇民化運動 / こうみんかせいさく), or mandatory ‘Japanization’ policies came into effect in Taiwan, which included the “National Language Movement” (国語運動) requiring citizens of the empire to speak Japanese as well as taking Japanese names under the ‘kaiseimei’ policy (改姓名 / かいせいめい). The reason I mention this now is that this is the same time when the name of the station was slightly changed to remove a common character used in Taiwanese Hokkien.

Taking into consideration that the Showa era spanned six decades before, during, and after the war - when we talk about the architecture of the era with regard to Taiwan, we have to focus primarily on what was constructed from 1926 until the 1940s, which ultimately differs somewhat from what you would have seen back in Japan.

Yamakoashi Station was, as mentioned above, one of the first of Taiwan’s railway stations to receive funding for a complete rebuild and the building we can see today (albeit slightly altered from the original design) was meant to be a model for further construction projects around the country. The station maintained the traditional wooden walls within the interior, but were fortified with brick and reinforced concrete. Similarly, the traditional network of wooden beams and trusses within the building that assisted in supporting the roof were constructed of concrete rather than making use of wood, adding to the stability of the building.

Former ticket booth located directly to the right of the main entrance.

The building however does maintain a similar design to many of Taiwan’s other Japanese-era stations in that it is a one-story rectangular-shaped structure that was split in half. The western side of the building was used as the station hall while the slightly larger eastern side was used by the station master, and those in charge of maintaining the operations of the station.

Surrounding half of the building in a U-shape (to the left of the station hall, around the side and to the back) you’ll find a number of concrete pillars used to help distribute the weight of the roof which extends beyond the base as well as providing a covered walk way around the building.

More specifically, the station was constructed using the traditional kirizuma-zukuri (切妻造) architectural design, including a variation of a ‘hip-and-gable roof’ (歇山頂) that rises up to resemble a mountain-like structure. Likened to that of an ‘open book’, or the Chinese character “入,” the architectural layout is similar to what we saw previously at the Longtan Martial Arts Hall, there is an obvious east-west fusion (和洋混和風建築) in the design, most noticeably with regard to the windows as there are large beautiful sliding-glass windows that surround the building and are set within wooden frames. You’ll also find windows on both the eastern and western ends of the building located just under the apex of the roof that allow light in from above.

Note: If you’re feeling confused by the roof description, I recommend taking a look at the link below, which rather nicely (or kawaii, if you will) illustrates some of the various styles of traditional Japanese roofs in manga form!
Link: A Manga Guide to the Beautiful Roofs in Japanese Architecture (Tsunagu Japan)

Having the building split into two halves meant that the interior space was somewhat limited between the public section and the area where the station’s employees worked. When you walk in the front door of the station, you’re automatically met with the ticket window on your right while the left-hand side was reserved as a passenger waiting area. The actual space between the front door and the door to where the turnstiles were located is only a few meters, so the building wasn’t actually constructed to serve a large amount of passengers at once.

The opposite side of the station hall would have been reserved as office space for the employees of the station, but that space likewise included pantry space, washrooms and a tool shed, so the space there was likewise cramped as well.

Today, both the station hall and the employee section are open to the public and you’re free to move back and forth between them. Unfortunately one of the aspects that seems to have stuck with the station is that the area continues to feel quite cramped given that both sides are filled with exhibitions taking up most of the free space.

Personally, I feel like all of the clutter distracts visitors from being able to enjoy the historic architecture of the interior of the building but the exhibitions within tend to change quite often, so when you visit, you may find yourself a bit luckier than I was.

Link: Shanjia Railway Station (New Taipei City Travel)

Contrary to what you’ll find on the New Taipei City website (linked above) with regard to the opening hours of the station, it is not open from 06:00-24:00 everyday. If you’d like to visit the station, its free of charge, but it is only open from 10:00-17:00, and is closed during national holidays.

Oh, and one last thing, an aspect of Japanese design that stands out at this station isn’t what you could technically refer to as part of the ‘architecture’, but is one of the most significant additions of this historic building - The century-old red-cotton tree (木棉樹) planted next to the building continues to thrive to this day and over the years has grown to twice the height of the station itself. The tree adds a natural element to the station that cannot be understated, and the fact that it continues to exist today makes the station a lot more beautiful.

Getting There

Address: #108 Zhongshan Road, Section 3, Shulin District, New Taipei City (新北市樹林區中山里中山路3段108號)
GPS: 24.972222, 121.392778

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

Shanjia Railway Station is located six stops south of Taipei Main Station (台北車站), and should only take you around twenty minutes to get there on one of the convenient Commuter Trains (區間車). Given that there isn’t really very much else in the area, you’ll also be able to hop on the train again and head back to wherever you came from, or on to your next destination.

That being said, when I say that there isn’t much else in the area, that isn’t exactly true - the next station south of Shanjia is Yingge Station (鶯歌車站), where you’ll find the popular Yingge Ceramics Old Street (鶯歌老街). Likewise, on the opposite side of the Dahan River (大漢溪) you’ll find the similarly popular Sanxia Old Street (三峽老街), both of which are really cool to visit.

One important thing to note about visiting Shanjia Station on the train is that it is classified as a ‘simple station’, which essentially means that express trains won’t stop there. If you’ve gotten on one of those by mistake, you should get off at either Shulin Station (樹林火車站) if you’re traveling south, or at Yingge Station (鶯歌火車站) if you’re traveling north, and then switch to a local commuter train (區間車).

There are of course other methods of getting to the train station if you’d like to stop by for a visit, including car, bus, scooter, and bicycle. You don’t have to take the train, but if you do plan on visiting, you’d probably be better off making use of Taiwan’s excellent railway network.

If you are driving a car or a scooter, the station is a short drive from Taipei - Simply input the address or the GPS provided above into your Google Maps or your GPS and you’ll find yourself there in no time.

In front of the station you’ll find a bus stop that services buses #702, 802, 847, 852, 885, 889, and F611, most of which originate at Banqiao Bus Terminal (板橋轉運站), or across the river in Sanxia.

If you’re looking for a bit of exercise, you can easily follow the beautiful riverside bicycle paths south from Taipei or Banqiao all the way to the station, and beyond. Along the way, the paths pass through several wetland areas offering quite a bit of outdoor recreational activities for visitors to see and do. If you have a bike, or have rented a Youbike, you should have a pretty good time - and yes, there’s a YouBike Station in front of the train station, so if you’re feeling tired you’ll be able to park your bike there and hop on the train back home.