Travel Guide

Paochueh Temple (寶覺禪寺)

Thanks to Instagram, there’s a Buddhist Temple in Taichung that has become quite popular in recent years on, thanks mostly to the clever positioning of a street light, and the eyes of a massive Buddha statue.

Located a relatively short distance from the Taichung Railway Station and Taichung Park, like most people, having seen these photos often showing up in my feed, I figured the temple was likely a pretty popular tourist attraction, at least for Taiwanese Instagrammers, but I was surprised to learn that most people don’t even bother going inside!

Looking into the temple, I noticed something quite special about it.

Not only was there a giant Buddha statue, but there was also a Japanese-era brick temple located within the temple grounds, which peaked my interest. The historic temple, which has since been ‘protected’ by a massive Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall-esque building, constructed around its perimeter, was a special one given that there weren’t so many Buddhist temples constructed during that period of Taiwan’s history in this particular style of design.

So, with some time in Taichung, I decided to hop on a Youbike and ride over to check it out. Arriving at the temple, I found it strange that despite its popularity, only myself and another tourist from Japan were walking around. It was the weekend, so it was a bit odd that there were so few visitors. I did notice, though, that there was quite a bit of construction taking place on the temple grounds, with several very large, and empty-looking buildings, which appeared as if they had just been recently completed, while others were still under construction or being restored.At the time, I figured that might have something to do with with the lack of visitors.

As is the case when I visit (larger) Buddhist temples in Taiwan, I couldn’t help scratch my head at the ‘excessive’ nature of some of the buildings that were being constructed. At its heart, the Buddhist philosophy stresses the impermanent nature of all things, and that detachment from worldly possessions is one of the key elements to living a content life, but I’ve become accustomed to the fact that Taiwanese-style Buddhism tends to completely disregard these kinds of things.

If you’ve seen photos of this particular giant Buddha in the past, you’ll likely remember that it was painted gold, however, on my visit, the statue had also appeared to have undergone some reparations, and the ‘golden’ paint that covered it was removed, and was now matching the color scheme of the newer buildings that have been constructed on site, which were both massive in scale, and the amount of money it would have taken to construct them!

My interest in visiting, obviously, stemmed from the fact that the temple originated during the Japanese-era, and because there were a number of well-preserved objects that dated back to that period of Taiwan’s history. That being said, the entire time I was there, the vibe was a bit off, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. This time, it wasn’t the displays of wealth, it was something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and it was only until I returned home and started doing research for this article did I actually figured it out.

When I started searching for information in order to write this article, I found it odd that there was very little available about it’s history, except from the bare minimum ‘one paragraph’ kind of introduction you get from Taiwanese travel websites and none of my go-to resources had much, if anything, available.

I also found it odd that the Japanese-era portion of the temple, which has been both protected and preserved by the organization that runs the temple hasn’t received ‘official historic preservation’ status from either the Taichung City Government nor from the national government. Typically, for places like this, especially those that have such a long history, and are religious in nature, that kind of recognition is quite common.

Then, after a few frustrating hours of research, it suddenly dawned upon me what was going on, which is something I really should have picked up much sooner than I did, but I guess I was just having one of those days.

You see, prior to the Japanese era starting in Taiwan, Japan went through a political revolution known as the ‘Meiji Restoration’ (明治維新), which brought about a transformation in the country’s political and social structure. In most cases, at least in modern history, when a developing nation seeks to modernize and develop itself into a major superpower, one of the first things to get left behind would have been its monarchy, but in Japan, the ‘restoration’ was quite different in that it referred to the return of the emperor’s complete authority, which had been usurped by the shoguns.

Of all the changes that were taking place in Japan at the time, one that doesn’t usually receive much attention was the forced separation of Buddhism from Shinto places of worship. Known in Japan as ‘Shinbutsu Bunri’ (神仏分離 / しんぶつぶんり), the separation policy ended the thousand year syncretic relationship between the two religions. Despite being ingrained within Japanese culture, when the restoration took place, Buddhism was regarded as a foreign influence, whereas Shintoism would become one of the vehicles for the promotion of Japanese nationalism.

The separation originally meant to eradicate Buddhism in Japan, but that is something which ultimately failed. Where it was successful, though, is that the roles of the two religions became more clearly defined, and although Shinto was regarded as something that should be a part of daily life, Buddhism, on the other hand maintained its role as an essential means for which the people of Japan would memorialize their loved ones, acting as the vessel for funerals, graves and ancestral rites.

With that in mind, one of the main reasons why I felt like the vibes during my visit were a bit strange, and also why there’s very little information available about the temple, is simply due to the fact that from the Japanese-era until now, it has been an important place for holding funerals, and from what I’ve seen, it’s one of the most expensive venues in central Taiwan.

Today, I’ll try my best to introduce the history of Taichung’s Paochueh Temple, but I should add that I’m going to focus the most on the historic Japanese-era part of the temple rather than spending much time on the services that it offers to the bereaved. I’ll detail the history and the architectural design, and in the end, if you still feel like visiting, there will be information about how to get there!

Hogaku-ji (寶覺寺 / ほうがくじ)

The temple in its original condition.

Briefly touching on the events that took place during the Meiji Revolution earlier, what I didn’t really explain were the hardships that Buddhists had to face, and the ultimate evolution that the religion had to go through in order to ensure its survival in such a climate.

The purpose of the revolution was meant to modernize Japan, and the reforms pushed by the government focused on aspects of Japanese society that were deemed to be ‘feudalistic’ as well as ‘foreign.’ This brought about not only the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate (徳川幕府), but the daimyo (大名), and the samurai classes, as well, all of which were considered a burden on the state, despite their cultural and historic importance.

This is a part of Japanese history that has been well-documented in that there have been books, films, television shows and anime that help people around the world better understand the changes that the nation underwent in the late nineteenth century. What doesn’t often get mentioned, though, is that Buddhism, which was the most widely practiced religion at the time, was also targeted, and replaced by Shinto as the state religion - all in an attempt to cultivate Japanese nationalism, the notion of Japanese cultural superiority, and most importantly the idea that the emperor was divine.

The temple grounds, likely taken from the former pagoda.

In areas where Shinto Shrines and Buddhist temples were once located together sharing the same space, Buddhists faced forced eviction, with temples, often hundreds, if not more than a thousand years old, left abandoned. Similarly, many monks and nuns across Japan were left homeless, with only the larger sects able to cope with the changes.

Link: Usa Grand Shrine (宇佐神宮) - I expand more on the forced separation of Shinto and Buddhism in this introduction to one of Japan’s most important shrines.

Making matters worse, many of the larger Buddhist sects were once closely linked with the former feudalistic social system, and for centuries enjoyed the perks of being under the patronage of the samurai class. This meant that in order to survive, Buddhism had to quickly adapt to the new social order or face destruction. Thus, modifications were made by the various schools of Buddhism, which altered the core approaches and interpretations of the Buddha’s teachings to coincide with an unquestioning support for the Japanese government, its policies, and the divinity of the Emperor.

This new alignment with the Japanese government allowed for Buddhism to survive, but it also meant that Buddhism was forced to abandon some of its key principles and practices to assist in the promotion of nationalism, and ultimately militarism as well. However, even though concessions were made to conform to state ideology, the forced separation of temples and shrines ultimately resulted in the closure or destruction of over 4,500 Buddhist temples across Japan. Similarly, monks and nuns were either drafted into the Imperial army, or forced to return to ordinary life, depending on their age.

It should be noted, though, that although Buddhism underwent modifications in order to survive, what didn’t really change is that a large portion of the population continued to follow and support the religion, and even high-ranking members of the government took issue with what was going on.

With all of that in mind, it’s somewhat surprising that when the Japanese arrived here in Taiwan, Buddhism was something that helped bridge the cultural gap between the locals and their new colonial ruler. Japanese monks were sent over with military regiments in order to provide spiritual service to the army, but they served as medical practitioners and educators, as well, and as the army made its way around the island, the monks were also able to perform missionary-like services. Suffice to say, the work that Buddhist monks did in the early years of the colonial era earned them political support from Taiwan’s Governor Generals, who in turn allowed Japan’s major Buddhist sects to came to Taiwan to propagate their teachings while also continuing to serve a myriad of roles within the public space.

Throughout the half-century of Japanese rule, the Kegon (華厳宗), Tendai (天台宗), Shingon (真言宗), Rinzai (臨済宗), Soto (曹洞宗), Jodo (浄土宗), Nichiren (日蓮宗), and several other schools of Buddhism were active in Taiwan. Similar to the hierarchical system in Japan, each of these sects would become associated with a central regional temple in Taiwan, known as the ‘Four Holy Mountains’ (台灣四大名山), which were set up to represent the four cardinal directions of north, east, south, and west.

The (original) Four Holy Mountains are as follows:

  1. Yue-Mei Mountain (月眉山派) in Keelung, associated with the Soto Sect (曹洞宗).

  2. Kuanyin Mountain (觀音山派) in Taipei, associated with the Rinzai Sect (臨済宗).

  3. Fayun Temple (法雲寺派) in Miaoli, associated with the Soto Sect (曹洞宗).

  4. Dagang Mountain (大崗山派) in Kaohsiung, associated with the Rinzai Sect (臨済宗).

Note: Coincidentally, when the Japanese-era came to an end, this system remained relatively the same with the Rinzai and Soto sects remaining, but in this case, the Four Holy Mountains are currently, Fo Guang Mountain (佛光山), Dharma Drum Mountain (法鼓山) and Chung Tai Mountain (中台山), which kept (a loose) association with the Rinzai and Soto schools, while the fourth, Tzu Chi (慈濟) is somewhat of a mixture of Buddhist schools and beliefs.

In each case, these organizations have grown exponentially, and although they are representative of Taiwan’s ‘Humanistic’ (人間佛教) approach to Buddhist philosophy - ‘promoting social engagement and involvement with society, modernizing Buddhist teachings, and focusing on issues of environmental protection, human rights and wildlife conservation’ - they also command massive wealth and political power, which is something that they’re often criticized for.

What you’re likely to have noticed is that both the Rinzai and Soto schools, during both the Japanese-era and the modern era, have remained the two more prominent schools of Buddhism in Taiwan, but that isn’t something that should be too surprising, given that both of these schools of ‘Zen Buddhism’ (禪宗) originated in China, and are simply considered to be the Japanese lineage of a much older school of Buddhism.

Despite Buddhist monks having been active in Taiwan since 1895, when the Japanese first arrived on the island, it took at least five years for the first temple to appear. In 1900 (明治33年), Governor General Kodama Gentaro (兒玉源太郎) made an official request for the monks who were active in Taiwan to start construction on a temple as well as being given official permission to promote of Japanese Buddhism in Taiwan.

Whether or not the Governor General himself was a Buddhist is open for debate, but what’s important to note is that he was sent to Taiwan during a period of social and political turmoil, and the living conditions for people on the island were considerably difficult. Kodama was of the opinion that the power of religion could help to stabilize society, and since Buddhism was more well-established with the locals than Shinto was, Japanese monks were able to find a new home in Taiwan, which, ironically was probably a far more friendlier place than the Japanese mainland.

For the Rinzai School (臨済宗 / りんざいしゅう) in particular, construction on the Chin'nanzan Gokoku-ji Temple (鎮南山護國禪寺), which is located next to Yuanshan MRT Station (圓山捷運站) in Taipei, was completed in 1911 (明治44年), and would act as the headquarters for the a number of their temples across Taiwan. One of those temples in its network would be ‘Hogaku-ji’ (宝覚寺), or ‘Paochueh Temple’ as it is known today. Established in Taichu Prefecture (台中州) in 1928 (昭和3年), with temple acting as central Taiwan’s Myoshin-ji (妙心寺 / みょうしんじ) branch.

Note: I realize, for anyone not particularly familiar with Japanese Buddhism, I just threw out a lot of terms. Rinzai is essentially just one of the largest Buddhist lineages in Japan, and it’s split into about fifteen different branches. Each of the branches is purely based off of a head-temple, and not particularly that they have different beliefs of practices. The Myoshin Branch, which is headquartered in Kyoto, just so happens to be the largest and most well-known of the branches.

Hogaku-ji was established by Gisei Higashiumi (東海宜誠禪師), a monk who was known for completely devoting himself to Taiwan, and learning the Taiwanese language in order to better serve the people here. The newly constructed temple wasn’t just an important place of worship, but also featured a Buddhist academy, and a kindergarten for local children.

Official literature points out that the first abbot of the temple was known as the ‘Art Monk’ (藝僧), but that doesn’t really explain very much given the special circumstances of who this person actually was. It took me a big of digging, but I was quite surprised to learn the first abbot of the temple, was a locally born Hakka monk. Born as Chang Miao-Chan (張妙禪) to a well-off family in Hsinchu’s Beipu township, at a young age, he was afforded the opportunity to learn how to play the piano and chess and was skilled at calligraphy, painting and various sculpture techniques, which is where his ‘Art Monk’ nickname would eventually be derived.

Rising to prominence for his work at the Rinzai temples on Shitoushan (獅頭山), a short distance away from his home in Beipu, at the time, this sort of a promotion for a local Formosan citizen would have been pretty rare. However, with the influence of Taiwanese-speaking Gisei Gigashiumi and the Chinese and Hakka-speaking Chang Miaochan, the two monks worked hand-in-hand to promote education in Taiwan through the Rinzai sect’s Chin’nan Academy (鎮南學林), and since the newly established Hogaku Temple in Taichung also served as a Buddhist academy, he was the perfect choice to act as the head abbot.

Keeping in mind what I mentioned above with regard to the ‘Four Holy Mountains’, the idea of a ‘mountain’ (山) in both Chinese and Japanese Buddhist traditions is a special one. In both languages, the ‘mountain’ speaks to the temple’s affiliation. In Japanese, the term ‘sangou’ (山號 / さんごう) is used when referring to the name of a temple. The ‘sangou’ always appears before the name of the temple, similar to how the different denominations of Christianity give titles to their churches, but in this case it just helps people better understand the association.

This, however, is an area of my research for this temple that has been quite frustrating. In the official literature, there are two of these ‘sangou’ listed, and for some reason the few resources available insist that they were both used during the Japanese-era.

Thus, the temple has (apparently) had the following names:

  1. Juheizan Hogaku-ji (鷲屏山寶覺禪寺 / じゅへいざんほうがくじ)

  2. Shobozan Hogaku-ji (正法山寶覺禪寺 / わしへいざんほうがくじ)

In the case of the latter, ‘Shobozan’ (しょうぼうざん), it’s a common ‘sangou’ used to mark an affiliation with the Myoshin sect of the Rinzai School, so it shouldn’t be surprising to see that this name would be used to demarcate the temple. Where I got really confused, though, was with the other name. The issue was that there isn’t actually a mountain titled ‘Juheizan’ (鷲屏山), and even more confusing is that the pronunciation of the first character in the word is most often pronounced ‘washi’ (わし), which refers to an eagle, among other things. It took a while, but I eventually put two and two together to figure out that they were actually referring to the ‘Vultures Peak,’ a prominent location in the stories of the life of the Buddha.

The peak, which is known as ‘Gridhrakuta’ in Sanskrit, is most often referred to as ‘Ryo-zen’ (霊鷲山 / りょうじゅせん) in Japanese, referring to the ‘Vulture’s Peak’ where the Buddha would often bring his disciples for training and retreat. This is something that is often mentioned in Buddhist sutras and the koans used by practitioners of Rinzai. Similarly, if we keep in mind the name of the temple, ‘Hogaku’ (寶覺 / ほうかく) which translates to the ‘awakening’ (or the enlightenment) of the Buddha, its probably not too difficult to see why it would be used, with the temple acting as both a place of worship and of learning. That being said, I couldn’t find any other Buddhist places of worship with this ‘sangou’, so if it was, in fact, the title used for this temple, it was likely that it was unique.

When Taiwan’s Japanese-era came to an end with the empire’s surrender at the end of the Second World War, Hokgaku Temple became known as ‘Paochueh Temple,’ which was just a simple change to the Mandarin pronunciation of the original name. That, however, was just a minor change compared to everything else that would take place over the next several decades. From the historic photos that I’ve seen of the temple, there were actually quite a few interesting buildings constructed on the grounds, including a beautiful seven-layered pagoda, a school building, dormitories for the monks, a bell tower, in addition to a large courtyard with a considerable amount of nature, including trees, ponds, etc. Essentially, the layout of the temple followed what is known as the ‘Shichido garan’ (伽藍 / がらん) style of design, which essentially just means that it featured what the Japanese referred to as a ‘complete temple complex.’

Fashionable tourist visiting the temple

At first, not much changed, but as the decades passed, a number of the original buildings were torn down to make way for newer, much larger buildings, a giant cement statue of the Laughing Buddha was added, and most of the trees were removed, and eventually a wall was erected around the complex.

Sadly, the seven-layered pagoda (in the photo above) that once stood on the western side of the grounds was removed, and replaced with a much larger, much more posh building for funerary services. Similarly, the bell tower, the school, and the dorms were all torn down. Architecturally speaking, the loss of these buildings, at least as far as I’m concerned, is quite unfortunate, because they were all constructed with Showa-era architecture, and from the photos I’ve seen of them, there aren’t many buildings like them left standing in Taiwan today.

Tourists visiting the temple in the 1970s.

Obviously, one of the more significant changes came in the 1970s when the temple’s 100 foot tall Buddha was constructed. I’ll spend more time introducing the statue a bit later, but as you might imagine, the addition of such a large statue within the heart of the city made the temple a popular tourist attraction once it was completed.

With all of the expansion that has taken place over the seven decades since the Japanese left Taiwan, the temple has transformed from a beautiful natural space within the heart of the city to a large cement shadow of its former self. That being said, with all of the modernization taking place, efforts have been made to preserve important parts of its history, which is admirable, because the loss of the original temple would have been a shame.

One of the admirable aspects about the temple that doesn’t really get mentioned too often, is that even though the Japanese gave up control of Taiwan decades ago, the close links and associations between Taiwan and Japan have remained strong. As I mentioned earlier, it’s important to note that the temple was originally a place where the Japanese would hold funerals as that was something that Shinto Shrines don’t actually take care of. So, even though the Japanese left, the Japanese and Taiwanese citizens who were interred within were never moved. In order to allow for the families of the deceased to be able to pay their respects, former Governor General of Taiwan, Kiyoshi Hasegawa (長谷川清/はせがわきよし) visited the country in 1957 in order to assist in the organization of ossuaries for deceased Japanese nationals at Buddhist temples across Taiwan.

To this day, Paochueh Temple remains home to one of these ossuaries, and every year a ceremony is held to honor the dead.

Tourists visiting the temple with a pavilion that has since been torn down.

The friendship that the temple has shown to Japan has also been of benefit as the Japanese Buddhist Association (全日本佛教會) has donated several generous gifts over the years, while the organization that runs the temple today also maintains its links to the Myoshin Rinzai sect.

Before I move on to detailing what you’ll see when you visit the temple, I’ve put together a condensed timeline of events in the drop down box below with regard to its history, for anyone who is interested:

  • 1895 (明治28年) - The Japanese take control of Taiwan as per the terms of China’s surrender in the Sino-Japanese War.

    1911 (明治44年) - The Myoshin Rinzai Chin'nanzan Gokoku-ji Temple (鎮南山護國禪寺) is completed in Taipei

    1928 (昭和3年) - Hogaku Temple is established in Taichu Prefecture by monk Gisei Higashiumi (東海宜誠禪師) on a large plot of land to the west of the downtown core of Taichu City.

    1929 (昭和4年) - Taiwan-born Hakka monk, Chang Miao-Chan (張妙禪), also known as the ‘Art Monk’ (藝僧) is appointed the temple’s first abbot, and a Buddhist academy and a kindergarten open on the grounds.

    1954 (民國43年) - The Japanese Buddhist Association (全日本佛教會) donates a statue, known as the “Peace Buddha” (和平觀音) to the temple.

    1957 (民國47年) - Former Governor General of Taiwan, Kiyoshi Hasegawa (長谷川清/はせがわきよし) helps to organize ossuaries for deceased Japanese citizens in several locations across Taiwan. The ossuary (日本人遺骨安置所) in central Taiwan is located within the temple grounds, and every year a ceremony is held to honor the memory of both the Japanese and Taiwanese citizens memorialized within.   

    1964 (民國53年) - Construction on a giant cement statue of the Laughing Buddha gets underway with more than two million dollars raised in funds from local businesses and citizens.

    1973 (民國62年) - An eight foot fall statue of Jizo (地蔵菩薩 /じぞうぼさつ) is donated to the temple by the Myoshin Temple in Japan.

    1975 (民國64年) - The statue of the Laughing Buddha is completed.

    1987 (民國76年) - Due to the theft of the temple’s property over the years, the temple undergoes a period of renovation with a giant front gate and a wall that surrounds the complex added for security. It was also during this time that the ‘Folklore Museum’ (民俗文物館) within the interior of the Buddha statue was converted into a library and a filial piety education hall.

    1990 (民國79年) - For some odd reason, the giant Buddha statue is painted gold.

    2008 (民國97年) - A monument with a Haiku by famed Japanese poet Haneda Gakusui (羽田岳水), who spent his youth studying and teaching in Taiwan was donated to the temple. The Haiku, translates literally as: “The smile of the Maitreya Buddha under the flowers of the Bodhi Tree” (在菩提樹花下彌勒佛的微笑).

    2008 (民國97年) - The original temple is elevated from its original position and a completely new massive bell tower-like structure is constructed around it.

Architectural Design

Most of the time when I get to the architectural design section of these articles, I do a deep dive into the specifics of the building’s design so readers can better understand what they’re seeing when they visit. This time, I’m going to be introducing a couple of different aspects of the temple that you’ll want to take note of when visiting, but for brevity, and due to a lack of resources, I’ll be offering fewer details than usual.

More specifically, I’ll be introducing the main attraction, the historic part of the temple, but I’ll also offer information about the Buddha statue, and some of the other significant objects that most people may not realize are significant.

Hall of Great Strength (大雄寶殿)

Traditionally, the Main Hall of a Buddhist Temple is known as the ‘Mahavira Hall’ (大雄寶殿 / だいゆうほうでん), but due to confusion with its name in Mandarin and Japanese, when it’s translated to English, it’s often literally translated either as the ‘Precious Hall of the Great Hero,’ or the ‘Hall of Great Strength,’ which probably aren’t the best ways to describe the building. Personally, I prefer to just refer to these buildings as the ‘Main Hall’ (正殿), because its the most important area of the temple where worship takes place, and where you’ll find statues of the Buddha.

On that point, the Buddhist figures enshrined within the ‘Main Hall’ share similarities with most of East Asia’s Buddhist temples, but when it comes to the building’s architectural design, what doesn’t get mentioned very often is that it is a fusion of Japanese, Taiwanese and Western styles of design, which makes it stand out from most of the Buddhist temples you’ll find in Taiwan today, especially those that remain from the Japanese era.

Starting with the interior, the main shrine is dedicated to the ‘Three Jewels’ (三寶佛), with the number ‘three’ being a significant one in that the cornerstones of Buddhism are the Buddha (the teacher), the Dharma (the teachings), and the Sangha (the community of practitioners). Similarly, the three Buddhist figures who make up the ‘Three Jewels’ are said to represent the ‘Buddhas of past, present, and future’ (過去未來現在諸佛), another core aspect of Buddhist philosophy.

The ‘Three Jewel’ Buddha’s enshrined within the Main Hall are as follows:

  1. Amida Buddha (阿彌陀佛 / あみだぼさつ) - located on the left

  2. The Buddha (释迦牟尼佛 / しゃか) - located in the center

  3. The Medicine Buddha (藥師佛 / やくしにょらい) - located on the right

Unfortunately, the size of each of the statues, what material was used to craft them, and the year they were created is all information that is unavailable. From what we can see from the historic photos available of the shrine above, it’s possible that the statues were replaced at some point, but given the angle that the photos were taken, and the fact that they’re monochrome, it’s difficult to compare. One aspect that is more obvious, though, is that the eight foot statue of Jizo, which at one time accompanied the three Buddhas has been removed. It’s possible that it was moved to the funeral area of the shrine, but there isn’t any information as to where it was moved or why.

An important aspect of the temple that does remain, though, are the two white elephants that were originally located at the entrance. They’ve since been moved to accommodate the building’s migration, but they remain just outside the main entrance. If you’re wondering why there are two white elephant statues in Taiwan, it’s not actually out of the ordinary for Buddhist temples as the elephant is a symbolic animal for Buddhists. Elephants are renowned for their wisdom, intelligence and patience, and have long been associated with the Buddha, which is why they’re often found in Buddhist iconography.

One of the more notable aspects of the interior design of the building is the inclusion of a caisson ceiling (八卦藻井) in the middle, just above the heads of the statues. A caisson, or a ‘Bagua Ceiling’ is basically a sunken layered panel in a ceiling that raises above the rest of the ceiling almost as if there were a dome above it. The layers of a caisson are often beautifully decorated and with a design at the center. In this case, there’s a Buddhist swastika (no not that one). The most amazing thing about these ceilings are that they are designed using expertly measured interlocking pieces that connect together in a way that neither beams nor nails are used to keep them in place.

In terms of the building’s architectural and interior design, this would be what I was referring to as the ‘Taiwanese’ inclusion, but I may be letting you down by reporting that it was an addition to the temple that came well-after the its original construction. There isn’t any information available as to when it was added, but a safe guess would be that it was part of the restoration and renovation project that took place in the late 1980s.

Even though it’s not an original part of the temple, it’s still quite nice, and whenever I see one of these things, I get completely distracted by how beautiful they are.

Now onto the architectural design specifics.

The building was constructed using a Japanese style of design for Buddhist Temples, known as the ‘Drum Tower’ (樓造), or ‘korou’ (ころうぞう) design. Mimicking a bell-tower, which is often an important inclusion for larger Buddhist temples, from the exterior, the building appears to be a two-storied structure that first and foremost makes use of the ubiquitous irimoya (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) style of design. This is a style that has a wide range of uses within Japanese-style architecture, and is used not only in Buddhist temples, but also Shinto Shrines, castles, and even in houses.

In this style of design, the roof is one of the most important aspects of the overall design, but as far as I’m concerned, the most important thing to keep in mind about buildings with this style of design is that the ‘moya’ (母屋 / もや), which is essentially just the ‘core’ of the building is constructed with a genius network of pillars and trusses both in the interior and exterior that ensures the building’s stability, but also adds an ample amount of support for the weight of the (whatever style of) ‘hip-and-gable’ roof that is chosen to cover it.

What ends up completing this style of design is that the core of the building is complimented by a roof that eclipses the size of the core, and although the roof in this case doesn’t extend that far beyond the base, the ‘bell-tower’ aspect of the design is what’s important.

Like many Japanese-style Buddhist temples, the roof was constructed as a ‘double-eave hip-and-gable style’ (重簷歇山式), and is covered with beautiful Japanese black tiles (黑瓦). Despite its comparable simplicity in design, the roof is actually quite similar to what you’ll see at the Huguo Rinzai Temple (臨濟護國禪寺) in Taipei in that it has the highest section has flat main ridge (正脊) with a four-sided hip roof that slopes down on all four sides, with two triangular gables on the eastern and western sides.

The upper eaves and the lower eaves are separated by a section of the core that has windows on all four sides of the building, and the lower eaves, another four-sided sloping roof extend well beyond the core of the building, covering what is known as the ‘hisashi' (廂 / ひさし), which is more or less like a veranda that surrounds the building and is complimented by pillars that help to stabilize the roof’s weight.

Where this temple differentiates itself from the Rinzai headquarters mentioned above is that it was constructed using the Showa-era approach to construction. While the temple in Taipei is one of the largest remaining Japanese-era temples constructed entirely of wood, this one is special in that it was, instead, constructed with reinforced concrete and Taiwan’s iconic red bricks. This kind of construction is something that became quite common in the latter stages of the Japanese-era, for both practical and decorative reasons.

The architects of the time were big fans of using this western-fusion style of design, but it was also important as a functional aspect to construction as earthquake-proofing was important for the longevity of buildings. That being said, of the Buddhist temples that remain in Taiwan today, it’s not common to see one constructed of bricks like this one, so it’s pretty special.

I’m not going to spend much time detailing the design of the newly constructed building that currently encircles the original temple. Looking at it from afar, its obvious that a considerable amount of money was spent to build it, but it’s not (currently) completely open to the public.

There isn’t much information available about what’s on the top floor of the building, but I’m assuming that since it is also bell-tower-shaped, its purpose is not only to ensure the protection of the historic temple, but also to replace the original bell tower that has since been demolished.

It’s also important to keep in mind that the temple is home to three historic bells, one known as the ‘Sanskrit Bell’ (梵鐘) donated by former Japanese Governor General of Taiwan, Hasegawa Kiyoshi (長谷川 清 / はせがわ きよし), another known as the ‘Friendship Bell’ (友愛鐘) donated by the ‘Japan-Taiwan Memorial Tower Construction Association’ (日本囯台湾物故者慰靈塔建設会), and another constructed with funds from more than a thousand Japanese citizens, with the inscription, ‘Eternal Friendship’ (友愛永傳).

In total, the three bells are likely to weigh over a thousand kilograms, so its likely that they’re being protected in the tower above. If you walk around to the rear, you’ll find a private elevator that could probably transport you to the top of the building, but you might have to ask nicely if you want to go up and see what’s there. Unfortunately, like so many other things about this temple, the lack of information makes it a bit of mystery.

Giant Buddha Statue (巨佛像)

Despite the constant stream of Japanese visitors over the years, Paochueh Temple’s status as a tourist destination was firmly ‘cemented’ in the 1970s with the addition of a massive statue of the ‘Laughing Buddha’ constructed on the grounds. Planned and constructed at a time when the Taiwanese Economic Miracle (臺灣奇蹟) was taking place, the temple successfully raised more than two million dollars in donations from local companies and citizens for the project, which would take almost a decade to complete.

When it was finally completed in 1975, the 10 foot wide, 100 foot tall cement statue became an instant hit with people from all over Taiwan visiting. This was likely a time when giant statues were few and far between, which isn’t the case these days.

Often mistaken by people in the west, the so-called ‘Laughing Buddha’ isn’t actually the progenitor of Buddhism, but instead is the likeness of the Chinese Buddhist monk, ‘Qieci’ (釋契此) who lived during the Later Liang Dynasty (後梁), around the 10th Century.

More commonly known here in Taiwan as ‘Budai’ (布袋), or in Japan as ‘Hotei’ (ほてい), he is traditionally depicted as an overweight, bald monk wearing a simple robe. As a monastic, he carries few possessions, save for his ‘cloth sack’ (布袋), which is where his name is derived. Despite having few possessions and living in poverty, he remains content and always has a smile on his face.

Within some circles in the Chinese Buddhist tradition, the image of the monk Budai has become synonymous with the ‘Maitreya Buddha’ (彌勒菩薩), or ‘The Future Buddha’, a Jesus-like figure, who it is said is the direct successor to the Buddha himself, and will appear at a time when the world needs saving.

Note: Given the ‘savior-like’ nature of the idea behind Maitreya Buddha, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that a number of prominent cult leaders over the years have claimed that they were a reincarnation of Budai. Similarly, there are several large religious groups operating in Taiwan today that worship Maitreya, or have leaders claiming to be him, including Yiguandao (一貫道), Falun Gong (法輪功), and the Maitreya Great Tao (彌勒大道). Fortunately, in this case, you don’t have to worry about getting sucked up into any cult-like activities with regard to this statue.

When the statue was completed in 1975, its purpose was to simply help bring a smile to anyone looking at it, which would have been quite easy as the area around the temple had yet to really develop very much, making it the tallest structure in the area, dominating the skyline.

Looking at the statue, you’ll find the phrase, “Everyone is Happy!” (皆大歡喜) etched in Chinese calligraphy on the ten foot high base. Similar to the Great Buddha on Changhua’s Bagua Mountain, the interior of the statue has several floors, and has been used for a number of purposes over the years. It seems like the interior hasn’t been accessible to the public for quite a while, but when the restoration of the statue is completed, maybe it’ll reopen for visitors.

Featuring seven floors, and a large window in the Buddha’s belly, the interior space has been used as a library, with the other floors reserved as folklore galleries and exhibition spaces.

In the 1990s, for reasons that aren’t really well-documented, the statue was painted gold, and if you’ve seen photos of the statue in the past, you’re likely wondering what happened. My personal opinion on this might be divisive, but the yellowish-brown paint that coated the statue was pretty tacky, so I’m happy to see that it has been returned to its original condition during the recent restoration and expansion project that the temple has been going through, especially since the statue matches the color scheme of the other new buildings constructed inside.

Japanese Ossuary (日本人遺骨安置所)

One of the things that makes this temple quite special is something that I mentioned earlier, and also something that I’m sure quite a few people might pass by without actually realizing it.

Located near the main gate, you’ll encounter an object that has become an important bridge between the peoples of Japan and Taiwan, and something that has been part of this temple’s legacy for almost a century. For anyone unaware, an ossuary is essentially a ‘container’ for the cremated bones of the deceased, and the ossuary you’ll encounter here is dedicated to the memory of members of the Japanese armed forces, both Japanese and Formosans alike, who passed away during the fifty year colonial era.

Taiwan is currently home to three of these ossuaries, with one located in the north, another in the south in addition to this one at Paochueh Temple, dedicated to the fallen service members who resided in central Taiwan.

In front of the ossuary, you’ll find two stone lanterns, the exact same kind that you’ll encounter at a Shinto Shrine. The ossuary itself is an urn-like structure with a plaque on the front that signifies that it is for resettled Japanese remains. The ossuary isn’t very large, but it is respectfully surrounded by some well cultivated bushes, making it a bit more attractive than it would be if it were there all by itself.

The ossuary as we know it today with the former seven-layered pagoda to its rear.

The temple holds memorial services in front of the ossuary in the spring and in the autumn, which is often attended by Japanese citizens living in Taiwan, or families members who have flown over specifically for the event.

In addition to the ossuary, there has also been a stone plaque erected nearby for the benefit of the family members of Japanese citizens coming to pay their respects as well as a pavilion where you’ll find a statue of Guanyin, which is dedicated to peace.

In the first case, the Hometown Memorial Monument (靈安故鄉慰靈碑) is a large slab of stone erected on a pedestal, which has the purpose of comforting those to stand in front of it. The Peace Pavilion (和平英魂觀音亭) on the other hand is dedicated to the memory of the fallen soldiers, and the pursuit of peace in the post-war era and features a golden statue of a standing Guanyin.

Finally, just around the bushes from the ossuary, you’ll find a statue of Jizo, one of Japan’s most well-loved Buddhist figures. In Chinese, the statue’s name is literally translated as The ‘Guardian of Children Jizo Bosatsu’ (護兒地藏王菩薩), an important Buddhist figure in East Asia, who is regarded as the guardian of children and patron deity of deceased children and aborted fetuses in Japanese culture.

The inclusion of the statue here might lead one to believe that there are also the ashes of children interred within the ossuary, but given his importance within Japanese Buddhist traditions, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that he makes an appearance at the temple

Getting There

 

Address: #140 Jianxing Road, North District, Taichung City (臺中市北區健行路140號)

GPS: 24.159440,120.687930

Located within the heart of downtown Taichung, and walkable from Taichung Train Station, the temple is close to a number of tourist attractions, including the Taichung Confucius Temple, Taichung Martyrs Shrine, Yizhong Street Night Market, Taichung Park, etc. Getting to the temple is pretty easy given that you can simply walk from the train station, take a Youbike, or make use of Taichung’s public transportation network.

My visit coincided with a trip to Taichung Park and Taichung Train Station, so I started with a GoShare scooter ride to the temple, and when I was done, I walked to the other two. How you get there, though, is completely up to you. If you decide to walk, simply input the address provided above into the maps app on your phone and it’ll map out the best route for you to take.

As mentioned above, there are quite a few tourist spots along the way, so it could be an eventful walk.

Public Transportation

If you’re already in the city and would like to visit, the temple unfortunately isn’t accessible via the Taichung MRT, and it doesn’t look like it will be in the near future. So, if you want to make use of public transportation, Taichung has a number of buses that stop nearby.

If you weren’t already aware, due to the lack of a proper subway system in the city for so long, the bus network has become quite expansive, convenient and reliable. So, if you’re in town, taking the bus is probably one of your better options for getting around.

Admittedly, though, the network is expansive, and can be a bit intimidating for people who are unfamiliar, but that’s why Google Maps should be your best friend! Simply open up the app on your phone, set the temple as your destination, and it’ll provide you with the bus routes that you’ll need to take to get there.

Still, given that there are a number of options, I’ll list the closest to the temple and link to them below. It’s important to note that the three closest bus stops to the station could be confusing for travelers given that they have the same name, with just a slight difference. Each of the stops are named ‘Shin Ming High School’ (新民高中), but they’re differentiated by the road that they stop on. The closest stop to the temple is the Jianxing Road (健行路) stop, which is just across the street, while the other two are located a two minute walk away on Sanmin Road (三民路) and Chongde Road (崇德路).

1. Shin Ming High School (Jianxing Road)

Bus Routes: 200, 303, 304, 307, 308

2. Shin Ming High School (Sanmin Road)

Bus Routes: 8, 14, 21, 59, 203, 270, 271, 277, 900

3. Shin Ming High School (Chongde Road)

Bus Routes: 12, 58, 65, 77, 651, 700

Youbike

Just outside of the temple on the sidewalk, you’ll find a large Youbike Station where you can swipe your EasyCard and hop on one of the shared bicycles. Keeping in mind that there is a large school just across the street, there are Youbike docks on both sides of the road, and other docking stations nearby as well. You shouldn’t have much difficulty finding a bike, or finding a spot to dock it when you’re done.

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

Link: Youbike - Apple / Android

If my introduction, and all that I’ve described about its history is any indication, I’m slightly on the fence as to whether or not this temple should really be considered a ‘tourist’ destination. For a lot of locals, the fact that it’s a place where funerals are held is probably one of the reasons why they’d be prone to staying away, unless they absolutely had to visit, but over the years the temple has expanded considerably, and the inclusion of the giant Buddha statue made it a popular stop.

The Taichung City Government promotes the temple on its travel website, so I suppose its marketed as a place for people to visit when they’re in town, but it’s important for anyone visiting to keep in mind that certain areas are off-limits, and as I’m writing this, with all the construction taking place, a large portion of the grounds aren’t accessible. When everything is finished, though, I’m sure there will be more for tourists to enjoy during a visit.

Until then, it’s probably good enough to enjoy a view of the giant Buddha statue and the historic Japanese-era temple that has been so well-preserved. If you do end up visiting, I hope this introduction to the temple helps you better understand what you’re seeing.

References

  1. 寶覺禪寺 中文 | 宝覚寺 日文 (Wiki)

  2. Taichu Prefecture | 臺中州 中文 | 台中州 日文 (Wiki)

  3. Linji school | 臨濟宗 中文 | 臨済宗 日文 (Wiki)

  4. Myōshin-ji | 妙心寺 中文 | 妙心寺 日文 (Wiki)

  5. Buddhism in Taiwan | 台灣佛教 (Wiki)

  6. Japanese Buddhist Architecture | 日本佛教建築 中文 | 日本建築史 日文 (Wiki)

  7. Paochueh Temple (Taichung Travel)

  8. 台中-北區 寶覺禪寺 (Just a Balcony)

  9. 寶覺寺 (台灣好廟網)

  10. 台中市北區 寶覺禪寺 (拜好廟。求好運)

  11. 寶覺寺: 在台日本人遺骨安置所 (Vocus)

  12. 日治時代的台灣佛塔建築調查研究研究成果報告 (陳清香)

  13. 日治時期高雄佛教發展與東海宜誠 (江燦騰 / 中華佛學學報)

  14. Historic Photos (開放博物館)


Chiayi Shinto Shrine (嘉義神社)

I’ve been saying for quite a long time now that I need to spend more time in Chiayi. I’ve always had a special place in my heart for the city, which, like Tainan to the south, displays a tremendous amount of history on its streets.

For a long time, Chiayi had become run-down, and its youth were leaving for larger cities and better opportunities elsewhere. In recent years, however, all of that has changed, and Chiayi has become a hipsters paradise, its young people have returned, and they’ve brought with them genius ideas for coffee shops, restaurants, cocktail bars, etc.

The local government, to its credit, has been quick to offer a helping hand in fostering this youth takeover of the city, converting historic buildings into art museums and music venues, and opening a number of culture parks dedicated to both celebrating the history of the city, and its future at the same time. With all of the art exhibits, music festivals, restaurants and cafes, it has become considerably more difficult to make excuses for not visiting the city, especially since there are a large number of destinations that are on my list to take photos of and write about.

So, one weekend, in order to escape the rain in the north of Taiwan, I hopped on a train and made my way down south for a trip that helped reintroduce me to a city that I’ve loved for quite a while. This time, however, instead of spending all of my time taking photos, I kept my list of destinations short, and instead decided to enjoy some of the great coffee shops that have become really popular as of late, in addition to a hip new ramen shop.

Still, I had a couple of places on my list that were must visits, and the first of which was Chiayi Park, where the ruins of the historic Chiayi Shinto Shrine are located. In its heyday, the shrine was regarded as one of the most important in Taiwan, and even though only bits and pieces of it remain, what you can still see there today is arguably more complete then the vast majority of other shrine ruins that you’ll encounter in your travels across Taiwan today.

Sadly, like most of the other Japanese-era sites that I write about, there isn’t much information available in the English language about the shrine that offers visitors much of an idea about its history, or what they’re seeing when they visit. So, as usual, I’m going to be providing readers with an in-depth introduction to the history of the shrine, a timeline of events, and an explanation of each of the pieces that remain on site today.

While I was visiting primarily to check out the ruins of the shrine, for the average visitor, the park where it’s located, shouldn’t be missed as it is not only home to the shrine ruins, but also the popular Sun-Shooting Tower (射日塔), the Chiayi Confucius Temple (嘉義孔廟), the Chiayi Botanical Garden (林業試驗所嘉義樹木園), Kano Baseball Memorial Park (嘉農園區), and is a short walk from other attractions such as the historic Chiayi Prison (嘉義舊監獄), Hinoki Village (檜意森活村), Beimen Station (北門車站) and the Alishan Forest Railway Garage Park (阿里山森林鐵路車庫園區), among a number of other destinations.

There’s a lot to see and do when you’re in Chiayi, and that’s not even including all the amazing restaurants and coffeeshops that you’ll be able to visit when you’re taking a break from sightseeing.

Now that I’ve been reacquainted with the city, I’ll definitely be back soon. I had a lot of fun, and before I knew it, it was time to hop back on a train to head back home. I think if you visit, you’re likely to feel the same. Chiayi’s one of those places in Taiwan that everyone should be making an effort to visit.

Now, let’s talk about the shrine.

Kagi Shrine (嘉義神社 / かぎじんじゃ)

Group photo in front of the First Generation Kagi Shrine

Similar to Tainan to the south, Chiayi is a city that has had a long and storied history. Originally inhabited by the Hoanya (洪雅族) Indigenous People, the arrival of Han Chinese immigrants in southwestern Taiwan in the 16th and 17th centuries was when things in the area really started to change. A port was constructed in (modern-day) Beigang (北港), and even though living conditions in Taiwan at the time would have been tremendously difficult, boats from Fujian frequently made their way over to drop off newcomers, who would help cultivate the untamed land.

Shortly thereafter, the arrival of Dutch traders created another major change for the area, as the the Dutch doing what they were quite well-known for at the time, quickly sought to colonize Taiwan. Trading posts were set up in various settlements around that island, offering them an opportunity to interact with the indigenous people as well as both the Qing and the Japanese at the same time. Dutch control of Taiwan didn’t last very long, but with their capital in Tainan, it marked the first time in Taiwan’s history when the island was governed from the south.

The First Generation Kagi Shrine shortly after it was completed.

Dutch rule may have been short in terms of Taiwan’s overall history, but the legacy they left behind is something that continues to be felt today. I could spend time talking the ports they set up, the international trade that they started, the success of their missionaries in converting Indigenous Taiwanese, but as this article is about Chiayi, one of the most important things the Dutch did was introduce the domestic turkey to Taiwan. If it weren’t for the Dutch, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy Chiayi’s delicious Turkey Rice (嘉義火雞肉飯)!

Expelled by Koxinga (鄭成功) and his pirate army who then set up their own Kingdom of Tungning (東寧王國) in Tainan, the area would yet again undergo yet another new form of foreign governance, but once again, it wouldn’t last very long as the Qing sailed over with their navy and brought the Kingdom of Tungning to its knees after only a few decades. Qing rule over the island began in 1683, and Chiayi, which was known as “Tsulosan” (諸羅山) at the time was one of the few settlements where the Chinese authorities were able to maintain their loose control over the island.

One of Kagi Shrine's original shrine gates.

That being said, between 1683 and 1895, the Qing were relatively uninterested in governing or developing Taiwan, they sought to prohibit immigration, and a number of rebellions against their rule wore down what little interest they already had. History has shown that for the majority of time that the Qing controlled Taiwan they were mostly uninterested in the island referring to it as a "ball of mud beyond the sea" adding "nothing to the breadth of China" (海外泥丸,不足為中國加廣), and were ultimately unable to expand their land control any further than a few western coastal areas.

When not denigrating Taiwan as a place unfit for human civilization, the Qing had an idiom to describe their rule over Taiwan that went like this: “Every three years an uprising, every five years a rebellion” (三年一反、五年一亂).

Link: Taiwan under Qing rule (Wiki)

Japanese-era postcard of the First Generation Kagi Shrine.

The reason I mention this is that in the aftermath of one of the largest uprisings against Qing rule, the Lin Shuangwen Rebellion (林爽文事件), the inhabitants of Tsulosan fought brilliantly, and were successful in preventing Lin’s rebel militia from taking the town. As a reward for their bravery, the Qianlong Emperor (乾隆帝) bestowed the name “Kagi” (嘉義) upon the town, which is loosely translated as “Excellent Righteousness,” and is a name that has stuck since 1788.

Note: Kagi is the Hokkien Taiwanese pronunciation of the Mandarin “Chiayi,” which is more commonly used today.

Nevertheless, Qing rule remained more or less the same for the next century or so, but control of Taiwan was ceded to the Japanese Empire in 1895, after the Chinese were easily defeated in the First Sino-Japanese War (甲午戰爭). When Japanese forces arrived in Taiwan that same year, they sought to take control over the entire island, and planned a three-phase assault, starting in the north taking Keelung, Taipei and Tamsui. In the second phase they took Hsinchu, Miaoli and Changhua, and then moved toward the south capturing Chiayi, Tainan and Kaohsiung. Taking complete control of Taiwan proved to be an incredibly dangerous undertaking for the Japanese, who not only had to deal with armed resistance, but cholera and malaria as well.

It would end up taking several years for the Japanese to take complete control of Taiwan, and their losses were numerous, however, it was the people of Taiwan who suffered the most, especially with the heavy-handed tactics that the Japanese took to suppress dissent to their rule. That being said, when the dust of war settled, and the island started to develop, living standards on the island in turn started to improve, and the frequency of rebellions decreased.

One of the shrine's administration offices.

In 1906, the Meishan Earthquake (梅山地震), the third deadliest earthquake in Taiwan’s recorded history reduced Chiayi to rubble, and in response, the Japanese government mobilized military and medical personnel to the area to assist in recovery efforts. The earthquake may have devastated the city, but despite all the suffering and destruction it caused, it also created opportunity as the Japanese were able to craft the city into their own, and “Kagi” (嘉義 / かぎ), the Japanese pronunciation of the city, developed at such a high pace that it started to flourish as it never had before. Becoming a major economic center for agriculture, timber and sugar, and Taiwan’s fourth-most populated city, the colonial government placed a considerable amount of attention on the urban development of the city.

With the construction of the Alishan Railway (阿里山林鐵) connecting to the main branch line, Kagi City had become equipped with beautiful civic structures, parks, modern roads, and public works. Living and economic conditions in the city had improved at such a fast rate that the city’s growth became a model of how Japanese rule was considered to be of benefit to the people of Taiwan, and the city became attractive to both Formosans, but also Japanese immigrants as well, who were apprehensive at first to come to Taiwan.

The Main Hall and the Worship Hall of the First Generation Kagi Shrine.

With an influx of Japanese immigration, conducted first by private companies, and then later publicly, the necessity for infrastructure to cater to their needs became more important. Certainly, one of the most important areas in this regard was with the construction of Shinto Shrines, which were important not only for the daily lives of the immigrants who came to Taiwan, but also to assist in the colonial regime’s push to fully assimilate the Formosan people into Japanese society.

Discussions regarding the construction of a Shinto Shrine in Kagi started around 1911 (明治44年), when the first organized meeting of the Kagi Shrine Committee (嘉義神社興建評鑑委員會) was held by influential members of society. Planning for the shrine, however, was expedited with the passing of Emperor Meiji (明治天皇) the next year as commemorations for his death, and the inauguration of a new era were held across Taiwan.

Shortly after, an official application was sent to the Governor General of Taiwan, Sakuma Samata (佐久間左馬太 / さくま さまた) for the establishment of a shrine, which was quickly approved. Thanks to the economic development of the city, and the completion of the Alishan Railway, everything that was required for the construction of a shrine was readily available. Thus, in 1915, famed craftsman Mitsuru Ito (伊藤滿), who had just completed construction on the First Generation Taichung Shrine (第一代臺中神社) was contracted to come to Kagi to construct the shrine. With a budget of 36,000 Yen (an equivalent of about $360,000 USD in modern currency), the shrine was constructed entirely of cypress from Alishan, and its official inauguration ceremony was held on October 28th, 1915 (大正4年).

The Visiting Path of the First Generation Kagi Shrine with stone lanterns and shrine gate.

Just two years after its inauguration, the shrine received an ‘upgrade’ in its official status as a County-Level Shrine (縣社 / けんしゃ) in the pre-war shrine ranking system, and while it would have been considered an honor at the time, it was something that would also change relatively quickly.

Note: The organizational structure of Shinto Shrines prior to the war were based on the ‘State Shinto’ system. In this system there were major Imperial-level shrines (官幣社 / かんぺいしゃ), and National-level shrines (国幣社 / こくへいしゃ), but the vast majority of shrines in both Japan and Taiwan ranked lower on the hierarchy, such as the metropolitan and prefectural shrines, like this one.

County-level shrines, known as ‘ken-sha’ (縣社 / けんしゃ), weren’t very high in the hierarchy, but having that upgrade in status ensured that it received a certain amount of funding from the government.

Link: Modern system of ranked Shinto shrines | 近代社格制度 (Wiki)

Administration Hall of the Kagi Shrine

That being said, as I just mentioned, the shrine’s official status would change within a few short years. In 1920 (大正9年), the Governor General’s Office instituted the ‘Doka Policy’ (同化 / どうか), which would become one of the Japanese-era’s most important administrative restructuring initiatives. This new system, meant to standardize the administrative divisions in Taiwan with those in Japan, was part of a wave of major investment in the governance of Taiwan, where the government in Japan considered Taiwan to be ‘separate’ but ‘equal’ at the same time. Of the original twenty administrative districts in Taiwan, the 1920 policy reduced the number to eight prefectures (州廳), and it was during this period that Chiayi was upgraded into Kagi City (嘉義市 / かぎし), with much of the farmland and coastal area that surrounded the city becoming part of Kagi County (嘉義郡 / かぎぐん), a sub-division of the much larger Tainan Prefecture (臺南州 / たいなんしゅう). As there were only two ‘cities’ within Tainan Prefecture, Kagi City became a lot more important, resulting in a number of major major construction projects in the city, something that was taking place across the island, resulting in some of the largest and most iconic Japanese-era buildings that you’ll see in Taiwan today.

Link: Political divisions of Taiwan (1895–1945)

A wedding held at the Kagi Shrine

With the rapid development of the city and the flourishing economy, the population of Kagi grew exponentially, both with local Taiwanese and Japanese immigrants as well. However, due to the growth of the city, the shrine had become far too small to cater to the needs of its citizens, and by the 1930s, the Japanese had learned the hard way that when it comes to the construction of wooden buildings in Taiwan, termites are your worst enemy. The shrine, beautiful as it was, offered a veritable feast for Taiwan’s infamous white termites, and the damage eventually became irreparable.

In 1937, the Governor of Tainan Prefecture created the ‘Kagi Shrine Fundraising Committee’ (嘉義神社奉贊會), and over the next two years a massive 200,000 Yen (an equivalent of about 2 million USD today) was raised for both the reconstruction and expansion of the shrine. With the purchase of an additional plot of land, construction of the Second Generation Kagi Shrine got underway in 1940, and the project took until 1943 to complete. Constructed in two phases, the original shrine was preserved, but the layout of the completely changed from its original east-west direction to a north-south direction, which provided more space, as well as allowing for an entrance that was more convenient for visitors.

The first phase of the construction project was the upper part of the shrine, and was completed in 1942, with a ceremony held for the relocation of the kami from the original shrine to their new home. The second phase was the lower section of the shrine, which included the beautiful Shrine Office and the Priest’s Hall, both of which remain standing today.

The Visiting Path of the First Generation Kagi Shrine

Shortly after the Second Generation Shrine opened, it’s status was once again upgraded, but this time, instead of being classified as a minor shrine, it become one of only three shrines in Taiwan to receive the Minor National Level Shrine (國幣小社 / こくへいしょうしゃ) rank, which goes to show just how important both the shrine and the city had become.

Nevertheless, with the shrine completed in 1943, its time as a Shinto Shrine was short, given that the Second World War came to an end in 1945. The Japanese were forced to surrender control of Taiwan under the terms of their surrender and with the Republic of China taking control of Taiwan, the shrine, like many of Taiwan’s other major Shinto Shrines was converted into a war memorial, known locally as a ‘Martyrs Shrine’ (忠烈祠). Similarly, Kagi Park was renamed Zhongshan Park (中山公園) in honor of the founding father of the ROC, Sun Yat Sen (孫中山).

The Shrine Office and the Priests Hall were later converted into a Military Hospital, and a Confucius Temple (嘉義孔廟) was also constructed nearby. The layout of the shrine, however, more or less remained the same until fire sadly burnt down the Main Hall and the Worship Hall in 1995.

The Sun-Shooting Tower at the end of the Visiting Path where the shrine once stood.

In the aftermath of the fire, the Chiayi City Government constructed a large tower for tourists, and a new Martyrs Shrine was constructed in its basement. The remaining sections of the original Shinto Shrine were later recognized as Chiayi City Municipal Monuments (嘉義市市定古蹟), and were preserved as part of a heritage park that would celebrate the history of the shrine, and the city.

Today, Chiayi Park is a great place to visit as it not only celebrates the history of its former Shinto Shrine, but a visit also provides tourists with the opportunity to enjoy a number of different experiences, making it an important stop if you’re in town.

Below, I’ll introduce the differences between the first and second generation shrines, and then I’ll move onto a detailed timeline to help readers better understand what was once part of the shrine:

First Generation Kagi Shrine (第一代の嘉義神社) 1915-1940

The First Generation Shrine. If you look closely you can see the stone guardians on either side of the shrine gates.

The First Generation Shrine, completed in 1915, with cypress brought directly from Alishan (阿里山) for its construction. While a lot more modest than the Second Generation Shrine, from the historic photos I’m sharing here today, it’s easy to see that it was absolutely beautiful.

The First Generation Shrine consisted of the following sections:

  1. Visiting Path (參道 / さんどう) - including a stone pathway, an information board (揭示場), shrine gates (鳥居 / とりい), stone lanterns (燈籠 / とうろう) lining both sides of the path, and komainu (狛犬 / こまいぬ) lion-dogs next to the entrance to the shrine.

  2. Purification Fountain (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ) - Likely located just outside of the sacred section of the shrine.

  3. Administration Office (社務所 / しゃむしょ) - Likely located along the Visiting Path, opposite the Purification Fountain.

  4. Offertory Hall (幣殿 / へいでん) - the space where worshipers could approach the shrine to pray or make offerings.

  5. Hall of Worship (拜殿 / はいでん) - the worship space where ceremonies were held.

  6. Main Hall (本殿 / ほんでん) - the home of the shrine’s kami.

  7. Shrine Fence (玉垣 / たまがき) - a tall wooden fence that surrounds the sacred area of the shrine, preventing people from wandering into a space where they shouldn’t be.

Second Generation Kagi Shrine (第二代の嘉義神社) 1942-1995

The far more expansive Second Generation Kagi Shrine.

The Second Generation Kagi Shrine, completed between 1940-1943 was a major upgrade, and completely changed the layout of the shrine space. With the purchase of additional land, the First Generation Shrine, which was measured at 28,460㎡ (8609坪) expanded to 33306㎡ (10,075坪), which allowed for not only a change in layout, but also included a number of additional buildings, and a much larger shrine than the original.

The Second Generation Shrine consisted of the following sections:

  1. Visiting Path (參道 / さんどう) - Including a stone pathway, a stone ‘shimebashira’ (標柱 / しめばしら) pillar at the entrance that indicated the name of the shrine, three shrine gates (鳥居 / とりい), several sets of large stone lanterns (大燈籠) and several sets medium sized lanterns (中燈籠) lining both sides of the path, and komainu (狛犬 / こまいぬ) lion-dogs.

  2. Administration Office (社務所 / しゃむしょ) - located along the right side of the Visiting Path prior to passing through the second shrine gate.

  3. Priest’s Hall (齋館 / さいかん) - located directly next door to the Administration Office.

  4. Purification Fountain (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ) - located on the opposing side of the Visiting Path from the Administration Office and Priest’s Hall.

  5. Resting Pavilion (參集所) - located next to the Purification Fountain, it was a space for people to relax and get some shade from the sun.

  6. Ritual Storage Building (祭器庫 / さいきくら) - just beyond the second shrine gate on the right of the Visiting Path, a building used to store equipment used for special occasions.

  7. Offertory Hall (幣殿 / へいでん) - the space where worshipers could approach the shrine to pray or make offerings.

  8. Hall of Worship (拜殿 / はいでん) - the worship space where ceremonies were held.

  9. Main Hall (本殿 / ほんでん) - the home of the shrine’s kami.

  10. Shrine Fence (玉垣 / たまがき) - a tall wooden fence that surrounded the sacred area of the shrine, preventing people from wandering into a space where they shouldn’t be.

  11. Priests Residences (神職宿舍) - Residences constructed especially for the shrine staff who lived on-site.

Kami Enshrined at the Kagi Shrine

As mentioned earlier, Kagi City at the time was a bustling economic port for both the sugar and timber industries, so the city developed quite quickly compared to many other areas in central-southern Taiwan. The kami who were chosen to take up residence within the shrine were a reflection of the importance of the city’s industrial output, but also included someone who became regarded as a ‘patron-saint’ in Taiwan, and of course, one of Shintoism’s most important figures, the goddess of the sun, the queen of heaven and creation.

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

Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa, a western-educated Major-General in the Japanese imperial army was commissioned to participate in the invasion of Taiwan after the island was ceded to the empire. Unfortunately for the Prince, he contracted malaria and died in (either) modern day Hsinchu or Tainan (where he died is disputed). This made him the first member of the Japanese royal family to pass away outside of Japan in more than nine hundred years.

Shortly after his death, he was elevated to the status of a ‘kami’ under State Shinto with the official name “Kitashirakawa no Miya Yoshihisa-shinno no Mikoto.“ Enshrined at the Yasukuni Shrine (靖國神社) in Tokyo, he subsequently became one of the most important patron deities here in Taiwan with his worship somewhat unique to the island. The Prince was enshrined at the Taiwan Grand Shrine (臺灣神社) in Taipei, and almost every other major shrine on the island.

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

The Three Deities of Cultivation, consist of three figures known for their skills with regard to nation-building, agriculture, business, medicine and weather. Commonly appearing as tutelar deities in many of Japan’s Shinto Shrines, they were especially important here in Taiwan due to what they represented, which included aspects of nation-building, agriculture, medicine and the weather. Sharing characteristics with one of Taiwan’s most important deities, the ‘Earth God’ (福德正神 / 土地公), their worship would have been considered somewhat of a simple introduction to the new state religion, but given Taiwan’s position as a new addition to the Japanese empire, ‘nation-building’ and the association of a Japanese-style way of life was something that was (forcibly) pushed on the local people in more ways than one.

The Three Deities of Cultivation are as follows:

  1. Okunitama no Mikoto (大國魂大神 / おおくにたまのかみ) - the kami of the nation-state and the ‘spirit of the country’

  2. Onamuchi no Mikoto (大名牟遲大神 / おおなむちのかみ) - kami of nation-building, agriculture, medicine, and protective magic

  3. Sukunabikona no Mikoto (少彥名大神 / すくなひこなのかみ) - the kami hot springs, agriculture, healing, magic, brewing sake and knowledge

Amaterasu (天照大神)

One of the children of the god and goddess of creation, Izanami (伊邪那美命) and Izanagi (伊邪那岐神), Amaterasu is one Shintoism’s most important deities. Known formally as Amaterasu-Ōmikami (天照大御神 / あまてらすおおみかみ), she is regarded as the goddess of the sun and the universe, and is considered to be the mythical ancestor of the Imperial House of Japan. Enshrined at the Ise Grand Shrine (伊勢神宮) in Mie Prefecture (三重縣), worship of the goddess is often directly linked to worship of “Japan” itself, known as “Japanese Spirit”, or Yamato-damashii (大和魂).

This is something that became problematic during the period when State Shintoism was one of the tools used to fuel the militarism. Even though worship of Amaterasu far predates the insanity that led Japan on military adventures throughout Asia in the 19th and 20th Centuries, her perceived relationship with Japan’s militarism is just one of the reasons why the Chinese Nationalists were so keen on destroying Taiwan’s shrines when they took control of Taiwan after the Second World War.

Note: When the Second Generation Kagi Shrine was completed, the original space that was used for the Main Hall was converted into an Auxiliary Shrine, known in Japan as a ‘setsumatsusha’ (攝末社 / せつまつしゃ), a conjunction of ‘sessha’ (攝社 / せっしゃ) and ‘massha’ (末社 / まっしゃ), referring to the ‘mini’ shrines you’ll often find within a larger shrine. The addition of an Auxiliary Shrine made space for the worship of some other important deities who took up residence in the building after the kami mentioned above were relocated to their new home in the newly constructed Main Hall.

  • Ukanomitama-no-Kami (倉稻魂命 / うかのみたまのかみ), more commonly known as “Inari” (稲荷大神), one of modern day Japan’s most popular deities. Inari is responsible for performing a number of roles, but is most commonly known as the guardian of foxes, and the kami of fertility, rice, tea, agriculture, industry, and prosperity. Playing a similar role to the Chinese God of Wealth (財神), people most often visit Inari Shrines to pray for success in business

  • Oomiyanome-no-Kami (大宮賣神 / おおみやのめのかみ) - the kami of business prosperity, a female deity that often appears alongside Inari. While known for abilities similar to those of Inari, Oomiyanome is also known for her skills with regard to the protection of shrines, so she is often an important addition to a shrine in the same way that dragons adorn the roofs of temples here in Taiwan.

  • Sarutahiko Okami (猿田彦大神 / さる-たひこ) - regarded as one of the ‘Great Deities’ (大神) of Shintoism, ‘Sarutahiko Okami’, is the leader of the kunitsukami (国つ神), or the ‘gods of the earth’.

Kagi Shrine Timeline

While I’ve covered quite a few of the events that led up to the construction of the original shrine, the second generation shrine, and what happened after the Japanese-era, there are a number of other important events that weren’t mentioned, so I’ve put together a timeline of events below for anyone interested in a more in-depth look at the shrine’s history, click the drop-down box below.

    • (明治28年) - The Japanese take control of Taiwan.

    • 1906 (明治39年) - On March 17th, the Great Kagi Earthquake (嘉義大地震), with an epicenter in Meishan (梅山) leveled much of what had been constructed in the area.

    • 1907 (明治40年) - Construction of the Alishan Railway (阿里山林鐵) commences.

    • 1910 (明治43年) - Kagi Park (嘉義公園 / かぎこうえん) is officially established.

    • 1911 (明治44年) - The first session of the Kagi Shrine Committee (嘉義神社興建評鑑委員會) was held at the Kagi Club (嘉義俱樂部) in order to start planning for the construction of a shrine in the town.

    • 1912 (大正1年) - Emperor Meiji passes away on July 30th, and events are held in Kagi (and across Taiwan) to commemorate his passing. Shortly after in November, an official application is sent to Governor General of Taiwan, Sakuma Samata (佐久間左馬太 / さくま さまた) for the establishment of a shrine, which was quickly approved.

    • 1913 (大正2年) - Fundraising events for the construction of the shrine officially get underway. The completion of the Alishan Railway assisted with both fundraising, and the future construction of the shrine with raw materials from the mountain.

    • 1915 (大正4年) - Construction on the shrine starts on May 1st with the project overseen by famed Nagoya craftsman, Mitsuru Ito (伊藤滿), who had also helped design and construct some of Taiwan’s other major shrines. The shrine was completed on October 20th, and the official opening ceremony was held a week later. In total, 36,000 Yen were spent on its construction, an equivalent of about 54 million yen ($360,000 USD) in modern day currency.

    • 1917 (大正6年) - The Kagi Shrine is officially recognized as a County-Level Shrine (縣社), an upgrade in its status.

    • 1920 (大正9年) - The Japanese government institutes the ‘Doka policy’ (同化 / どーか), which standardizes Taiwan’s political divisions with the system used in the rest of the country. From then on, Kagi City (嘉義街 /かぎかい) is put under the administrative authority of Tainan Prefecture’s (臺南州 /たいなんしゅう) Kagi County (嘉義郡/かぎぐん).

    • 1936 (昭和11年) - The Colonial Government’s “Japanization” or ‘forced assimilation’ Kominka (皇民化運動) policy comes into effect in Taiwan.

    • 1937 (昭和12年) - Due to the growth of Kagi and the increase in the number of visitors to the shrine, as well as the problem of termite infestations wreaking havoc on the shrine, the Governor of Tainan Prefecture creates the ‘Kagi Shrine Fund Raising Committee’ (嘉義神社奉贊會) in order to reconstruct and expand the shrine.

    • 1940 (昭和15年) - Over 200,000 Yen (20萬圓) is raised for the reconstruction of the shrine, and plans are officially approved by the Tainan Prefectural Government with construction immediately started.

    • 1942 (昭和17年) - Construction of the Second Generation Kagi Shrine is undertaken in two phases with the construction of the upper shrine completed first. The inauguration of the shrine was held shortly after on June 13th.

    • 1943 (昭和18年) - In the second stage of construction, the lower section of the shrine, which included the Shrine Office (社務所 / しゃむしょ) and Priest’s Hall (齋館 / さいかん), was completed on August 9th.

    • 1944 (昭和19年) - Kagi Shrine is upgraded into a Minor National Level Shrine (國幣小社 / こくへいしょうしゃ), one of only three shrines in Taiwan to achieve such a rank in the pre-war shrine ranking hierarchy.

    • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to a conclusion and Japan is forced to surrender control of Taiwan. Shortly thereafter, Chiayi Park is renamed “Zhongshan Park” (中山公園).

    • 1949 (民國38年) - Chiang Kai-Shek (蔣介石) and the Republic of China government retreat to Taiwan, bringing with them several million refugees displaced by the Chinese Civil War. Kagi Shrine is converted in the Chiayi Martyrs Shrine (嘉義忠烈祠), and the lower offices are converted into a Military Hospital (八二八醫院).

    • 1987 (民國76年) - The Military Hospital hands over ownership of the Shrine Office and Priest’s Hall Buildings to the Chiayi City Government. However, due to wear and tear, the buildings are in desperate need of restoration. The Department of Architectural Design of the National Cheng-Kung University (成功大學) in Tainan is contracted to come up with plans for the faithful restoration of the buildings.

    • 1992 (民國81年) - The charitable division of the Cathay Life Insurance Company donates NT$5 million for the restoration of the buildings.

    • 1993 (民國82年) - The Chiayi City Historical Relics Museum (嘉義市史蹟資料館) is officially established.

    • 1995 (民國84年) - Fire destroys the Main Hall of the shrine, which had been converted into the Chiayi Martyrs Shrine (嘉義忠烈祠). Later that year, plans are made to construct a tower on the site of the original shrine to help attract tourists to the city.

    • 1996 (民國85年) - With funds contributed from private enterprises, government subsidies and from the Chiayi City Government, restoration of the remnants of Kagi Shrine officially start. Later that year, Zhongshan Park is officially renamed Chiayi Park (嘉義公園), reflecting its history.

    • 1997 (民國87年) - While the tower was still undergoing construction, the Second Generation Chiayi Martyrs Shrine was officially opened in the basement of the tower.

    • 1998 (民國88年) - The Chiayi Tower, otherwise known as the “Sun-Shooting Tower” (射日塔) on the grounds of where the Main Hall of the shrine once stood is completed and opened to the public. The remnants of Kagi Shrine are officially listed as Chiayi City Municipal Monuments (嘉義市市定古蹟) in order to ensure that funding is available for their upkeep and protection.

    • 2001 (民國91年) - Restoration on the Shrine’s Main Office and the Purification Hall is completed and are opened to the public as the Chiayi City Historical Relics Museum (嘉義市史蹟資料館) takes up residence within the two buildings.

Remaining Sections of the Shrine

What remains of the First Generation Shrine's Hall of Worship.

In this section, I’m going to take some time to introduce the sections of the shrine that remain today, and as usual, aspects of their architectural design. Certainly, while what’ll you encounter in Chiayi Park today is not nearly as complete as the Taoyuan Shrine (桃園神社), but the elements that do remain are quite well-preserved, and even though much has changed, the layout of the shrine has essentially remained the same for the past eight decades.

Not every aspect of the shrine requires an in-depth introduction, so I’ll probably spend the most time on the two largest buildings that remain on-site as they’ve been expertly restored, and if you’re in the area, you should definitely take some time to visit. When it comes to the restoration of the shrine, most of the attention has been given to the administrative buildings that were part of the shrine, which today make up the Showa 18 Relic Museum (嘉義市史蹟資料館), which I’ll also introduce below.

If you visit today, you’ll find several smaller aspects of the shrine that have been preserved and are put on display in addition to offering some pretty interesting information about the history of Chiayi.

Visiting Path (參道 / さんどう)

One of the most complete remnants of the historic shrine is its ‘Visiting Path’, which may not seem like a lot, given that most would just consider it a pathway from the entrance that led to where the shrine once stood, but the fact that it hasn’t been altered over the years is relatively amazing.

At a Shinto Shrine, a 'Visiting Path,’ known in Japanese as the “sando” (參道 / さんどう) is an integral part of the layout of any shrine, and, well yeah, is essentially just a pathway that leads visitors to the shrine. While these paths serve a functional purpose, they are also quite symbolic in that the ‘path’ is also the route you take on the road to spiritual purification. If you weren’t already aware, ’Shinto’ is literally translated as the “Pathway to the Gods” (神道), so having a physical pathway leading the worshiper from the realm of the profane to that of the sacred is quite important. 

The average length of a shrine’s Visiting Path’s tends to vary based on the size of the shrine, but what always remains true is that you’ll find stone lanterns (石燈籠 / しゃむしょ), shrine gates (鳥居 / とりい) and stone guardians (狛犬 / こまいぬ) along the path.

As mentioned above, the shrine was originally home to three shrine gates, one cement, and two constructed of wood, each of which constructed in the Myojin-style (明神鳥居), one of the most common styles of shrine gate currently used in Japan today. In this particular style of design, there are double lintels with the top curving upwards. Between each, it’s likely that there would have been a plaque that had the name of the shrine inscribed horizontally. Today, none of the original shrine gates are left standing along the Visiting Path, but a Chinese-style cement ‘Pailou Gate’ (牌樓) has been constructed for the Martyrs Shrine, and even though its completely different, its still quite nice.

The next common feature of a Visiting Path are the stone lanterns that are lined symmetrically along both sides. One again, its quite amazing that there are so many of the original lanterns remain standing in their original location, and what’s even more amazing is that the date of their donation, which is always inscribed horizontally along the base, remains clear.

The reason I find this amazing is that in most cases, the stone lanterns that remain from Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines have all had their dates scratched out or vandalized. In this case, however, it looks like they were never touched, and not only do they feature the dates, but also the individuals or the organizations who originally donated them. One of the interesting things about the lanterns in this case is that most of them date back to the Taisho Era (大正), which means that they were part of the First Generation Shrine.

Finally, one of the other more notable aspects of a Visiting Path are the stone guardians that are placed along the path to symbolically guard the shrine. Known in Japan as ‘komainu’ (狛犬/こまいぬ), these stone guardians are part of a tradition thought to have been passed on to Japan from Korea, which is why they’re also often referred to as “Korean Dogs” (高麗犬), referring to the ancient Korean Kingdom of “Koguryo” (高麗國).

Although there can be exceptions to the rule, the lion-dogs generally appear as a pair and are placed on either side of a Visiting Path or at the entrance to a shrine. Often appearing as a male and female, they are only distinguishable only by their facial expressions, with the male “a-gyo” (阿型) having an open mouth and the female “un-gyo” (吽形) having a closed mouth. The male komainu in the traditional set has its mouth open with a stone ball between its teeth while the other set looks as if he’s smiling awkwardly with its mouth open.

Link: Komainu Lion Dogs (Japan Visitor)

In this case, there are only two remaining of the original three sets of stone guardians at the shrine, one at the entrance, and one at the mid-section of the Visiting Path. The set that disappeared would have been placed at the entrance to the Main Hall, which burnt down several decades ago. The two remaining sets are known simply as the ‘large guardians’ (大狛犬) and the ‘small guardians’ (小狛犬), but what that doesn’t tell you however is that they were designed in completely different styles, and were dedicated at different times. Records indicate that the remaining pairs or guardians date back to the First Generation Shrine, but since the dates have been vandalized. So, based on their size and the information we have about them, its safe to say that the large set at the entrance to the park were donated in 1928 (昭和3年), while the smaller pair were donated in 1922 (大正11年).

The interesting thing is that the smaller set were crafted in the exact same style as the remaining pair of guardians at the ruins of the Keelung Shinto Shrine. The larger pair on the other hand were crafted to look similar to the guardians from the Taiwan Grand Shrine (臺灣神宮) in Taipei.

Another notable fact about the smaller set is that they were crafted in such a manner that they appear similar to the design of Taiwanese-style guardians that you’ll find at temples across the country, which (its assumed) is part of the reason why they have remained so safe from vandalism.

Link: 狛犬――連結臺灣與日本,日常生活裡的藝術雕塑 (Nippon)

Note: Interestingly, during my research about the Kagi Shrine and its komainu, I came across some interesting resources that introduced a theory about the history of the construction of stone-guardians, like these, in Taiwan. The article, linked above, explains that from the Qing Dynasty, blacksmiths were banned in Taiwan due to the amount of rebellions and uprisings that took place. When the Japanese arrived, there weren’t any resources available that could aid in the construction of the ‘guardians' for all the shrines that were being constructed around the island. Thus, it’s theorized that the reason why so many of the older guardians look so similar is due to the fact that they were all imported directly from Yamaguchi Prefecture (山口縣), west of Tokyo, or were sculpted by craftsmen from the area.

The theory is given more credence by the fact that several of Taiwan’s Governor Generals originally hailed from Yamaguchi, as were most of the craftsmen who came to Taiwan to assist in the construction of bridges, such as the famed Meiji Bridge (明治橋) in Taipei, which was constructed with stone imported directly from Yamaguchi.

Purification Fountain (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ)

Located on the left side of the Visiting Path opposite the Administration Office, you’ll find what is known as the Purification Fountain, an essential addition to any Shinto Shrine. Like the Visiting Path, the fountain is sure to appear at any shrine you visit as it marks another important philosophical aspect to Shintoism, which is referred to as “hare and ke” (ハレとケ), or the "sacred-profane dichotomy."

One of the main methods of marking the visitor’s journey from the sacred to the profane, is that for anyone crossing the barrier into the ‘sacred realm,’ they should do so in the cleanliest possible manner. This is achieved by symbolically performing a purification ritual at the chozuya (ちょうずしゃ) or temizuya (てみずしゃ) provided. The shrine was originally set up in the ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ layer, and you’ll notice that as the Visiting Path continues past the Purification Fountain, there is a set of stairs that that you walk up to reach the ‘upper’ section. The second shrine gate was originally located at the top of the stairs, and would have marked the entrance into the sacred part of the shrine.

The Purification Fountain that remains on-site today is the original, and was completed in 1945 (昭和20年). The fountain itself is a simple octagonal-shaped stone fountain inscribed with the words “Donated by members of the Chiayi Civil Engineering Group in October of 1942” (奉獻 昭和十七年十月 嘉義土木建築請員業組合員一同). The top of the fountain has a stone plate where a long wooden ladle, known as a ‘hishaku’ (柄杓 / ひしゃく) was placed for worshippers to take part in the purification ritual mentioned above. Hanging from the roof above the fountain, you’ll find an instruction board where the purification process is detailed.

In order to protect the sacred water in the fountain, a pavilion was constructed to cover it, and as is the case at most shrines of this size, extra care was taken to construct a beautiful space. The fountain was constructed on a cement base and the four pillars that prop up the massive roof of the pavilion are also cemented into the base to ensure the stabilization of the roof. Both the pillars and the roof were constructed entirely of cypress from nearby Alishan. The roof was constructed with the flowing two-sided symmetrical kirizuma-zukuri-style (切妻造 / きりづまづくり), the weight of which is propped up by both the four pillars and a network of trusses that connect to the pillars.

The roof itself is quite decorative in that both of the gable ends feature what is known as ‘Gegyo' (懸魚 / げぎょ), which are decorative wooden boards shaped to look like a hanging fish, and are used as a charm against fire, similar to porcelain dragons on Taiwanese temples. The top of the roof is covered in a variety of black roof tiles, most of which I’ll explain below, but the mixture of flat tiles, cylindrical tiles and end tiles used to keep everything in place. It’s an extremely complex mixture that will kind of blow your mind if you take some time to look closely and appreciate that there are likely a thousand or more individual pieces locked in together.

Resting Pavilion (參集所)

While visiting the park, I had assumed that this ‘Resting Pavilion’ was something that was constructed well after the Japanese-era had ended, but it was in fact an original part of the shrine that has been changed a few times in the years since. The interesting thing about this so-called ‘Resting Pavilion’ is that it isn’t something common at shrines in Japan, but was likely something that was added due to the tropical climate in Chiayi.

Located on the same side as the Purification Fountain, across from the Administration Office, the pavilion was a space where people could get some shade from the afternoon sun instead of waiting for family and friends in spaces where they’d exposed to the heat.

All that remains of the original pavilion is the cement base and the cement pillars that helped to prop up the original roof. The current roof is something that has been renovated at some point and features steel beams and trusses that help to support a two-sided kirizuma-like roof. It’s safe to assume that the original roof of the building would have appeared similar in its decorative elements to that of the Purification Fountain, but it’s currently covered by iron sheets and on the ends, you’ll find some iconography akin to the decorative elements you’d find at a post-war military village, meant to signify the Republic of China, or its military.

Administration Office (社務所 / しゃむしょ)

The two buildings that have come to personify what remains of Kagi Shrine are the beautiful Administration Office and the Priests Hall, two large, and very traditionally constructed spaces that are directly connected with each other. The buildings have been beautifully restored, and both the exterior and the interior are well-maintained, and are well worth the modest entrance fee for a visit.

Working together in unison, the buildings were originally used for a number of purposes. First and foremost, it was a space where the shrine’s priests, priestesses, and other staff would rest while they weren’t busy performing their duties. They were also a space where the administrative aspects of the shrine were taken care of in addition to offering space where special events or ceremonies could be held. While the interior of the buildings would have been mostly off-limits to the average visitor, they also offered space for people who might have had any special requests for prayers or rites.

In Japan, the ‘Administration Office’ is more commonly known as a ‘shamusho’ (社務所 / しゃむしょ), and are probably best known for featuring what is known as a ‘Public Counter’ (授与所 / じゅよじょ), which is like a gift shop where visitors can ‘receive' (purchase) shrine branded tokens and amulets. However, looking at the floor plan and the design of the buildings, it’s highly unlikely that this was the case at the Kagi Shrine. So, if there were one of these gift shops at the shrine, it would probably have been located in a separate building nearby, or closer to the shrine. Completed in 1943, the buildings were part of the second phase of construction of the Second Generation Shrine, officially opening a year after the rest of the shrine.

Given that the Japanese had learned their lesson with regard to the construction of wooden buildings in Taiwan, both of the buildings were constructed on a cement base with sixty centimeter-long pedestals propping them off of the ground, offering protection from earthquakes as well as all the termites, which happily feasted upon the First Generation Shrine.

This time, in addition to the cement base, both of the buildings were constructed with a mixture of brick and cypress from the nearby mountains, and the walls in the interior feature the genius insulation method of combining bamboo and mud (編竹夾泥牆), something that the Japanese came up with as an answer to Taiwan’s tropical climate.

Officially, the buildings were constructed in the irimoya-zukuri (入母造 / いりもやづくり) style of architectural design, but within that particular style there are several off-shoots, and more specifically, in this case the ‘Shoin-zukuri’ (書院造/しょいんづくり) style of design was used for the layout of the interior of the buildings. Originally a style of design that was used for the construction of mansions, temple halls or the residences for Buddhist priests, the architectural style has become the foundation for the design of most of the traditional residential buildings in Japan today. The term ‘shoin’ (書院), translates literally as a ‘study’ or a place for lectures, and although its origins come from the construction of Buddhist temples, it is essentially a style of building characterized by tatami mats, aisles and sliding doors that open up to partitions.

Given that it’s an off-shoot of the irimoya style, one of the most important things to keep in mind is that the base of the building, known literally as the ‘mother’s house’ (母屋), is considerably smaller than the roof above, which means that the architectural design within the interior of the buildings features a network of pillars and trusses that assist in supporting and stabilizing the weight of the roof, which in both cases is absolutely beautiful.

While not as complex or as intricate in design as the roof of the shrine’s more sacred buildings, the roof that was constructed on both of these buildings was designed in the two-sided kirizuma-zukuri (切妻造 / きりづまづくり) style of design, with beautiful gable-ends, and is covered with black tiles (黑瓦). Adding complexity to the roofs, both buildings feature a ‘covered-front porch’, known in Japan as a ‘karahafu porch’ (唐破風), an addition that draws its inspiration from the architecture of the Tang Dynasty, and is something that remains quite popular in Japan. The ‘'porch’ essentially protrudes from the front of the kirizuma roof, but features a separate four-sided roof of its own, supported by four pillars in front of the main doors, adding a three-dimensional or ‘flowing’ element to the design.

Facing outward from the front of the porch, is a triangular gable known as a chidori-hafu (千鳥破風/ちどりはふ), which has a 'hanging fish’ decoration at the tip, and a decorative onigawara (鬼瓦 / おにがわら) tile at the top. This may not mean very much to the average reader, but it shows that an incredible amount of care, and money, were spent to ensure that these buildings stood out in their decorative design.

Apart from the porch, there are a number of decorative elements on the roof that also play integral functional elements, protecting it from rain, and keeping everything in place. While they are (for the most part) considered common elements found on the roofs of more formal Japanese-style buildings, and would have also been included on the roof of the shrine, these two buildings, the Purification Fountain, as well as the Ritual Storage Building (which I’ll introduce below) are the only sections of the shrine that remain where you’ll find them all in one place.

Those decorative elements are as follows:

  • Hiragawara (平瓦 /ひらがわら) - a type of arc-shaped clay roofing tile.

  • Munagawara (棟瓦 /むながわらあ) - ridge tiles used to cover the apex of the roof.

  • Onigawara (鬼瓦 / おにがわら) - ornamental ridge-end tiles that are used to symbolize protection.

  • Nokigawara (軒瓦/のきがわら) - the roof tiles placed along the eaves lines.

  • Noshigawara (熨斗瓦/のしがわら) - thick rectangular tiles located under ridge tiles.

  • Sodegawara (袖瓦/そでがわら) - cylindrical sleeve tiles

  • Tsuma (妻/つま) - the triangular-shaped parts of the gable on the roof under the ridge.

  • Hafu (破風板/ はふいた) - bargeboards that lay flat against the ridge ends to finish the gable.

Although there have been some modern modifications to the buildings after the restoration work was completed, the interior space has been largely left the same. The original tatami mats have been removed, and replaced with hard-wood flooring. Similarly, modern lighting and air conditioning has been added, which is probably something the priests in 1943 would have loved to have access to given the heat of Chiayi’s summer days.

The space today, though, is divided up into exhibitions about the history of the shrine, so its difficult for the average visitor to fully understand the original layout of the building, but the displays offer some very detailed information about the various elements of the design.

That being said, one of the genius aspects of the design of buildings like this, especially since air conditioning hadn’t been invented yet, was that the windows in the building were specifically constructed to open up and allow fresh air into the building. The air circulation system included sliding windows panels at the rear of the building that could be completely opened as well as ventilation within the sliding panels within the interior.

It would have been hot within the buildings, but the design did its best to mitigate the sweltering tropical heat of Chiayi, something which I personally can’t endure for very long before I start to melt.

Ritual Storage Building (祭器庫 / さいきくら)

Even though this is just a simple storage building, it is still one of the highlights of what remains of the former Shinto Shrine. Among the remnants of Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines, you’ll find that this particular type of building is quite rare, and only here at the Chiayi Shrine will you find one in such great shape. While a ‘storage' building might sound rather unimportant, it is actually an integral part of the shrine, as it is a space where some really important objects, that were used for special occasions, were kept.

The most important of these objects would have been the shrine’s ‘mikoshi’ (神輿 / みこし), a specially-branded palanquin constructed especially for the shrine. The mikoshi would have been used to transport one of the kami whenever they came out during the annual ‘matsuri festival’ (祭 / まつり), which was held on October 28th every year in Chiayi.

In order to keep the mikoshi safe, the rectangular building was constructed with reinforced concrete in the traditional irimoya-zukuri (入母造 / いりもやづくり) architectural style mentioned earlier. Given that it was constructed with concrete, the base was easily able to stabilize the weight of the roof above, and also allowed for windows on three sides of the building.

In most cases, irimoya-style buildings make use of intricate hip-and-gable style roofs, but in this case, the roof was constructed with a simple, yet beautifully decorated two-sided kirizuma-zukuri-style (切妻造 / きりづまづくり) with gable-ends on the front and rear of the building.

First Generation Shrine Ruins (第一代嘉義神社殘跡)

Arguably one of the more important of the remaining sections of the shrine are the ruins of the First Generation Shrine, which was later used to house a separate set of kami. That being said, for most visitors, this is likely to simply appear as an uninteresting cement base, and probably don’t really understand the point or the purpose of what the ruins entail.

Personally, this is one of my favorite parts of the park as it shows the size of the First Generation Shrine.

Featuring the ruins of both the Hall of Worship (拜殿 / はいでん) and the Main Hall (本殿 / ほんでん), the park has constructed a wooden structure around the perimeter of the base where the larger Hall of Worship once stood while the Main Hall to the rear, which was elevated on a cement base remains in place.

The cement base of the Main Hall, which is well over a century old now is cracked, likely due to earthquake damage, but it otherwise remains in excellent condition. It’s a simple square-shaped pedestal that has a set of stairs in the front that would have allowed the shrine’s priests to approach the Main Hall that was placed on top. Currently, there is a barrier around it to keep people from crawling all over it as it is part of the protected heritage site.

Chiayi Park / Showa 18 Relic Museum (嘉義市史蹟資料館)

As mentioned earlier, Chiayi Park, originally known as ‘Kagi Park’, then renamed to Zhongshan Park, and finally changed back to its original name in 1996, is an expansive 268,000 square meter natural space within the confines of Chiayi City. The park features not only the ruins of the Shinto Shrine, but also the Chiayi Confucius Temple (嘉義孔廟), the Chiayi Martyrs Shrine (嘉義忠烈祠), the Sun-Shooting Tower (射日塔), the KANO baseball park, and the Chiayi Botanical Gardens (嘉義植物園). The trees in the park, most of which were planted during the Japanese-era are tall and beautiful, and there is always something taking place as it is popular with both the locals and tourists alike.

Currently located within the Administration Office and Priests Hall is the “Showa 18 Relic Museum,” which is split up into an exhibition space, and a coffee shop where visitors can enjoy some coffee, tea or afternoon snacks. The term “Showa 18” refers to the eighteenth year of Emperor Showa’s (better known in English as Hirohito) reign, coinciding with 1943 on the western calendar. Named for the year of the completion of the Second Generation Kagi Shrine, the museum features exhibitions about the shrine’s history, and features relics from the shrine that have been preserved over the years.

Within the buildings, you’ll also find a small shop that sells locally made products that celebrate the history of Chiayi, created to look like the kind of amulets that you’d purchase at a shrine in Japan, as well as a kimono rental service that is likely popular with instagrammers.

Residents of Chiayi can enter the museum free of charge, but the rest of us have to pay a 50NT admission fee to enter the buildings to check them out. The ticket price however can be used to discount anything that you purchase within the building, so if you want to have a drink, snack, or purchase one of the crafts inside, it’s not that bad. Even if you don’t purchase anything, I highly recommend going into the buildings to check them out. The museum section features some interesting exhibits, and the interior of the buildings are absolutely beautiful, and as mentioned above, have been wonderfully restored to their original condition.

Getting There

 

Address: #42 Gongyuan Street, East District, Chiayi City

嘉義市東區公園街42號

GPS: 23.481070, 120.467690

If you find yourself in Chiayi, one of the best ways to get around is to rent a scooter from one of the rental shops next to the train station. Renting a scooter, though, can sometimes be a hassle for international travelers, especially if you haven’t brought an International Drivers License along with you on your trip. So, if you’d like to make your way to Chiayi Park to check out the shrine, the Confucius Temple, or any of the other historic structures in or around the park, your best bet is to probably hop on a bus just outside of the Chiayi Train Station (嘉義車站).

Bus

In recent years, Chiayi City has upgraded its bus network into a “BRT” (Bus Rapid Transport) system similar to the one in used in Taichung. The new system has replaced all of the old Chiayi Bus (嘉義公車) routes that used to exist. So, if you’ve looked at other resources online that haven’t been updated, you might find yourself a bit confused about how to get around.

From Chiayi Station, you’ll want to hop on either Bus #7211 or Bus #7212, both of which travel a square-like route through the city center.

Link: Chiayi BRT Bus #7211 and 7212 Route Map (嘉義客運) | Map and Schedule

You also have the option of hopping on the Taiwan Tour Bus (台灣好行) #0715 from the station, but it comes much less frequently than the other two.

Youbike

If you can’t get access to a rental scooter, never fear, the weather in Chiayi is great year-round and the city has a large number of Youbike Stations where you can pick up a bicycle and drop it off. If you’re setting off from the train station, there is a Youbike station directly to left of the entrance. From there, you can make your way to Chiayi Park on your bike, riding straight down Chungshan Road (中山路) to the park, or whatever route you prefer. There are at least four Youbike stations surrounding the park, so you’ll be able to easily drop the bike off when you need to.

Apart from that, if you don’t feel like taking a bus, or riding a Youbike across town, you always have the option of grabbing a taxi at the train station. A trip to the park won’t be too expensive, and once you’re there, you’ll be able to walk to a few other destinations that are close by.

If you find yourself in Chiayi, you’ll find that there are a large number of historic destinations to experience, and the ruins of the Kagi Shrine are just one that you’ll find conveniently located within the Chiayi Park. You may not think that visiting a park is worth your precious travel time, you may not also think that the ruins of a Shinto Shrine are all that important, but when it comes to the history and the development of Chiayi City as we know it today, the shrine, played a pretty important role.

If you’re looking for places to visit, the park is close to a number of historic destinations, and you’re also in luck because there are also a number of really great coffee shops surrounding the perimeter, where you’ll be able to take a break from the sun. Obviously this is a destination that is my kind of thing, but since Chiayi really promotes its Japanese-era history for tourism, there’s probably no better place to visit than the shrine!

References

  1. Kagi Shrine | 嘉義神社 中文 | 嘉義神社 日文 (Wiki)

  2. Chiayi | 嘉義市 中文 | 嘉義市 日文 (Wiki)

  3. 嘉義街 | 嘉義郡 | 臺南州 (Wiki)

  4. 台灣神社列表 (Wiki)

  5. 嘉義公園 (Wiki)

  6. Shrine Architecture | 神社建築 中文 | 神社建築 日文 (Wiki)

  7. Modern system of ranked Shinto shrines | 近代社格制度 (Wiki)

  8. 原嘉義神社暨附屬館所 (國家文化資產網)

  9. 嘉義神社與參道外貌 (國家文化記憶庫)

  10. 臺灣日治時期地方政府廳舍建築 (Wiki)

  11. 嘉義市市定古蹟原嘉義神社附屬館所調查研究 (嘉義市文化局)

Historic Photos

  1. 臺灣國定古蹟編纂研究小組 (Facebook)

  2. 臺灣の神社遺跡 (Facebook)

  3. 帝國の臺灣 (Facebook)

  4. Geomosa (Facebook)

  5. 嘉義神社與參道外貌 (國家文化記憶庫)


Jialishan (加里山)

Miaoli’s Jiali Mountain has been a hike that has been at the top of my list of trails to check out for quite some time, but has sadly stayed that way due to it being somewhat inaccessible, that is, if you don’t have your own means of transportation - So, when a good friend of mine sent a late night text asking: “Jialishan, this Sunday, you in?”, I didn’t need to take any time to consider, it was an automatic yes.

And, let me tell you, I was so happy that I was able to add this one to my list of mountains in Taiwan that I’ve hiked.

The weather that day was absolutely perfect, the light on the trail was beautiful, the scenery on the peak was spectacular, and I also met some cool new hiking friends in the process!

Nicknamed Taiwan’s Mount Fuji (台灣富士山), with a peak reaching 2220 meters, Jialishan is one of the highest of Taiwan’s ‘100 Minor Peaks’ (小百岳), a group of mountains that range between elevations of 2600m at the highest and 20m at the lowest. Unlike Taiwan’s highest peaks, however, each of which reach over 3000m in height, the ‘Minor Peaks’ are a constantly evolving selection of popular day-hikes that range from entry-level hikes, with easy access to public transportation, to hikes like this one that require a little more skill and effort to complete.

Whereas the major peaks often require permits and a commitment of several days to complete, many are surprised to learn that they may have already completed some of the ‘Minor Peaks,’ some of which include Taipei’s Qixing Mountain (七星山), Jiantan Mountain (劍潭山) and the so-called ‘Four Beasts Mountains’ (四獸山). So, if you’ve found yourself on the peak of Taipei’s Elephant Mountain (象山) enjoying the spectacular views of the Taipei cityscape, you’ve already been on at least one of the ‘minor peaks’.

In each case, the hikes mentioned above are easy to get to, and don’t particularly require too much effort or skill to complete. That being said, there are a number of hikes on the list, mostly located in central Taiwan, that are considerably more difficult, and require a lot more effort. At 2663m, the highest mountain on the list, Mount Daito (大塔山), might not be the most difficult to complete, but still, it takes the better part of a day. The fifth highest mountain on the list, Jialishan, similarly takes the better part of a day to complete, but isn’t exactly the easiest to reach, nor is it the easiest for most people to complete.

Nevertheless, the challenges you face while hiking the trail aren’t likely to outweigh the rewards as you’ll enjoy dense forests of Japanese cedar, a historic timber railway, and stunning views of the several mountain ranges.

Hiking the mountain on a clear day, we were able to enjoy a view of Taiwan’s second-highest peak, Snow Mountain (雪山), which was covered in snow at the time. At the same time, thanks to the peak being the highest in the area, we were also rewarded with 360 degree views of the Central Mountain Range, which includes the Alishan Mountain Range (阿里山山脈) to the south, where Mount Daito, mentioned above is the highest peak.

Given that I love hiking Taiwan’s mountains, and the hike also included a walk along a historic Japanese-era railway, this is exactly the kind of experience that the doctor ordered after a long, rainy and cold Lunar New Year holiday. The popularity of this hike shouldn’t surprise anyone as all of your sweat won’t compare to the rewards you’ll receive at the peak.

Today, I’m going to introduce the trails on the hike, talk a bit about the railway you’ll see along the way, and offer information about how to get there so that anyone wanting to enjoy the hike has the information they need to get there. Unfortunately, I have to preface this by letting you know that for most foreign visitors, getting to the trail isn’t that easy, and its likely that you’ll need help in that department, so I’ll be providing links to groups that will be able to help arrange transportation and guides.

Jialishan (加里山)

Before I start introducing the trails on the hike, let me first take some time to provide some practical information about the mountain and the range that it is a part of. If you’re already familiar with Taiwan’s geography, you’re likely aware that the country is geologically ‘split’ between the eastern and western sides by several mountain ranges. The term “Central Mountain Range” is probably the most well-known in this regard, but there are actually several ranges that make up what is essentially the spine of Taiwan, including the Alishan Range (阿里山山脈), Xueshan Range (雪山山脈), the Coastal Mountain Range (海岸山脈) and the Yushan Range (玉山山脈).

The Jialishan Mountain Range (加里山山脈), is located on the north-western edge of the spine spreading from Nantou County (南投縣) in central Taiwan to Keelung (基隆) on the north coast. About 180 kilometers in length, the range includes a number of mountains, several of which are well over 2000 meters in height, most notably Jialishan at 2,220 meters, Dongxishui Shan (東洗水山) at 2,248 meters, and the highest mountain on the range, Le Mountain (樂山) at 2,618 meters. While they not be the largest on the range, there are a number of peaks that are part of the Jialishan Range that are incredibly popular with tourists, some of which I already mentioned above, such as Elephant Mountain (香山), Jinmian Mountain (金面山), Jiantan Mountain (劍潭山), Bitou Cape (鼻頭角), etc.

A snow-capped Snow Mountain in the distance.

Suffice to say, you may not have heard the term before, but if you’ve spent any time hiking in Taipei, you’re likely to have found yourself enjoying one of the mountains that is part of the mountain range.

Despite Jialishan itself not being the highest peak on the range, geographer Tomita Yoshirou (富田芳郎 / とみたよしろう) and geologist Lin Chaoqi (林朝棨) coined the term during the Japanese-era, and it stuck. That being said, there is debate as to whether the ‘Jialishan Range’ is actually a mountain range or not. Similarly known as the “Western Thrust Fault Mountains” (西部衝上斷層山地), one of the main reasons why it’s not incorporated into the Xueshan Range is due to differences in the range’s geology, which is more similar to that of the Alishan Range to the south. Another reason why there is debate as to whether or not it is a mountain range on its own is because its topography is cut by several different rivers, which act as tributaries for some of Taiwan’s major sources of fresh water.

The debate as to whether it’s a mountain range or not really isn’t the point for this article, but as the namesake for the range, Jialishan is not only a popular hike, but a prominent mountain as well. Located between Miaoli County’s Nanzhuang (南庄鄉) and Tai’an (泰安鄉) townships, the mountain has been known throughout history as “Jiali'xian Mountain” (加里仙山), Santai Mountain (三台山), or Jialishan (嘉璃山), which has a similar pronunciation to the current name, but uses different Chinese characters. Today, the mountain is officially know as “Jiali Mountain” (加里山), but is also nicknamed ‘Miaoli Mountain’ (苗栗縣山), and since the Japanese-era, it has been referred to as ‘Taiwan’s Fuji Mountain’ (台灣富士山).

The Jialishan trailhead is located deep within the mountains, and as mentioned earlier, isn’t the easiest to get to, but as you pass through the historic Hakka village of Nanzhuang and make your way further up into the mountains, you’ll discover that you’re passing through several indigenous communities, and the further you make your way up the road to the trailhead, the more remote you’ll find these communities become, consisting mostly of mountain-side farms.

Note: Located within Nanzhuang Township, you’ll find the following indigenous tribes: Rareme’an (向天湖部落), Kahkahoe’an (八卦力部落), Hororok (鵝公髻部落), Walo’ (瓦祿部落), Ray’in (蓬萊部落), Sasasezeman (東江新邨部落), Raisinay (石壁部落), P’anoh (鹿場部落), Sinpitu (鹿湖部落), Haboeh (大窩山部落), Batbato’an (二坪部落), Tamayo’an (大湳部落), all of which are members of the Saisiyat People (賽夏族), one of the smallest of Taiwan’s officially recognized indigenous groups, mostly located within Hsinchu County and Miaoli County.

Link: Council of Indigenous Peoples (原住民族委員會)

The important thing to remember about the road to Jialishan is that the further you drive into the mountains, the narrower, and more steep the road becomes. It’s not an easy road for most vehicles, and you need to drive carefully and constantly be aware of and considerate of on-coming traffic. On our drive to the trailhead, we encountered a relatively new Lexus that was overheating and had to stop on the side of the road to let the car cool down. With that in mind, you’ll want to keep not only your own physical condition in mind, but also the condition of your vehicle before attempting to reach the trailhead.

Once you’ve arrived at the parking lot, you’ll pay a small parking fee, and the trailhead is a short walk away.

Jialishan Trail (加里山登山步道)

A short distance from where you park your car, you’ll find the trailhead marker for the trail, where you’re likely to encounter fellow hikers taking photos prior to setting off, or just after they’ve finished their hike. The marker includes both the name of the trail and a map of the routes you can take through the forest. While looking at the map, you’re likely to notice that you have a few options on the hike, but most people choose to hike to the peak, and then either leaving the way they came, or completing a circuit from the trailhead to the peak, to another peak, and then down through the historic timber railway trail.

The first option, which is probably the most popular, is just over seven kilometers in length, and will likely take anywhere between six and seven hours to complete. That, however, depends on the amount of time you take to enjoy the peak, and how often you take breaks.

The circuit hike on the other hand takes considerably longer, and is almost double the length. While the vast majority of people hiking the trail are likely only hiking in and out, if you’re like myself and want to enjoy the complete experience, the most important thing you’re going to have to keep in mind is the time you’re setting off from the trailhead - if you aren’t at the trailhead shortly after the sunrise, its probably not a great idea to hike the circuit as you’re likely to find yourself hiking out in the dark. Today, I’ll be sharing photos from the circuit hike, which my group started shortly after 7:30am, and didn’t actually finish until close to 4:00 in the afternoon. So, for your own personal safely, you’re going to want to keep this in mind prior to starting the hike.

As I move on below, I’ll introduce both the in-and-out ‘Jialishan Return’ hike as well as the ‘Circuit Hike’ with an introduction to each of the hikes, a break down of the routes you’ll take, and offer downloadable GPX files that you can put on your phone prior to the hike. Then I’ll offer information about how to get to the trail and the things you’ll need to bring with you.

Jialishan Return Trip

As I’ve mentioned a few times already, the in-and-out route is probably the preferred hike for most people hiking this mountain - It’s a straight forward 3.9 kilometer hike to the peak, and then heading back the way you came. I’ve seen some articles claim that the hike is seven kilometers in length, but the good people at the Hiking Journal (健行筆記), one of Taiwan’s best resources for information about mountains and trails, have a detailed break down of the hike with GPX that show that its actually closer to eight.

The estimated break down for the hike is as follows:

Jialishan Trailhead (加里山鹿場登山口) → Fengmei River (風美溪) - 0.6K, 15min

Fengmei River → Refuge Hut (避難山屋) - 1.3K, 70min

Refuge Hut - #9 Boulder Ascent ( 九號救援椿陡升坡) - 1.3K, 45min

#9 Boulder Ascent → Jialishan Peak (加里山三角點) - 0.5K, 45min

Jialishan Peak - Jialishan Trailhead - 3.9K, 175min

Once you’ve parked your car, you’ll find it’s a very short walk to the trailhead and given that you’ve already travelled so far up into the mountains already, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the transition from paved parking lot to nature is almost instantaneous. For much of the first hour or two of the hike, you’ll be passing through a forest of Japanese cedar trees that date back to Taiwan’s Japanese era (1895 - 1945), part of a reforestation effort after the timber industry culled the original forest. It’s not until you reach higher elevations that you’ll encounter the mountain’s native alpine-like forest.

Even though the trail is well-maintained, one of the things you’ll have to be mindful of while hiking are all of the tree roots that you’ll encounter along the trail. In some areas, the roots are absolutely beautiful, especially when the morning light is shining on them, so even though you need to tread carefully, they’re also an enjoyable aspect of the hike. Similarly, the first portion of the hike travels along an abandoned railway, so you’ll have to be careful while walking along the rails as some of them have become dislodged over the decades.

Along the way, you’ll encounter several rest stops where you and your party can sit, catch your breath, or have a snack. The stops usually feature a bench, but the higher you get, you’ll also find that the trail is home to some really large boulders that are pretty good for sitting on as well.

You’ll also come across periodic trail markers that provide information about the direction hikers need to take, and the remaining length of the trail that are meant to help you from getting lost.

Shortly after starting the hike, you’ll have to cross the Fengmei River (風美溪), but don’t worry, you won’t get wet. There are large rocks you can walk on and ropes that assist you in crossing the river. Prior to crossing the river, the hike is a quaint walk through a flat forest, leading you to think that its going to be a pretty easy day.

After crossing the river, though, the flat sections of trail are few and far between as the trail becomes quite steep. This is where the rest stops come in handy as you’ll undoubtedly need to take breaks. Later on, there are several slopes that you’ll have to climb, so if you have brought gloves with you, you’ll probably want to put them on to keep your hands soft and pretty.

That being said, the slopes are rarely very difficult to walk up, so even though it’s advised that you bring a pair of gloves with you on the hike, it’s not like other popular hikes like Wuliaojian (五寮尖), Stegosaurus Ridge (劍龍稜) or Huang Di Dian (皇帝殿) where gloves are an absolute necessity.

After a few hours of hiking, you’ll reach the aptly named ‘#9 Boulder Ascent’ rock, which comes with a warning sign for danger, but don’t let it scare you, it’s pretty easy to walk up the rock, and once you get to the top, you’re treated to your first glimpse of the amazing views that the peak is renowned for, looking directly toward the Snow Mountain Range.

From there, the peak is only a few hundred meters away, and once you arrive you’ll be treated to 360 degree views of several different mountain ranges. While at the top, you’ll likely want to take a photo with the stone triangulation point (三角點), identifying the peak of Jialishan, with the name of the mountain and its elevation, for your collection.

The peak tends to be quite windy as it’s completely open to the elements, so even though you’ll want to stay there to enjoy the view for a while, it’s probably a good idea to wear a hat to prevent yourself from getting sunstroke. You might also need a windbreaker, even on a hot day.

While we were on the peak, there was a group of seasoned Taiwanese hikers who had nestled themselves into a flat spot and were having a massive full course spread before leaving. So, if you can find a spot, you’ll probably want to have something to eat before heading back.

Once you’re done on the peak, simply head back down the way you came.

This time, though, you’ll want to take extra care on the slopes as you’ll be walking down them instead of up, and you might run into traffic along the way. Take it slow.

Trailhead (登山口): Jialishan Hiking Trail (加里山登山步道)

Trail Length (步道里程): 7.8km

Altitude (海拔高度): 1280-2220m

Time: 6-7 hours

Difficulty: (難易度): Medium

Permit: (申請入山): No

The downloadable GPX for the Jialishan Return hike is linked below:

Link: Jialishan Return Hike (健行筆記)

Jialishan - Dujuanling Circuit (加里山 - 杜鵑嶺)

Your other option, which if you have enough time - I highly recommend, is to complete the Jialishan - Dujuanling Circuit hike. However, with the in-and-out route reaching nearly eight kilometers, it’s already quite long for what most people are comfortable with for a day hike. The circuit route is considerably longer, more difficult, and requires a lot more time, but along the way you’ll make your way to Dujuanling (杜鵑嶺), another peak, and get to experience a completely different forest, one that was left somewhat untouched by the timber industry, before making your way to the historic timber railway part of the route.

The break down for the circuit hike is as follows:

Jialishan Trailhead (加里山鹿場登山口) → Fengmei River (風美溪) - 0.6K, 15min

Fengmei River → Refuge Hut (避難山屋) - 1.3K, 70min

Refuge Hut - #9 Boulder Ascent ( 九號救援椿陡升坡) - 1.3K, 45min

#9 Boulder Ascent → Jialishan Peak (加里山三角點) - 0.5K, 45min

Jialishan Peak → Dujuanling (杜鵑嶺) - 1.7K, 40min

Dujuanling → Marker #4 (杜鵑嶺四號救援椿) - 1.0K, 50min

Marker #4 → Marker #14 (14號救援椿) - 1.3K, 60min

Marker #14 → Jialishan Trail (加里山登山口叉) - 2.7k, 70min

Jilishan Trail → Refuge Hut - 2.7K, 70min

Refuge Hut - Jialishan Trailhead - 1.9K, 50min

The circuit hike follows the same route to the peak of Jialishan, but once you’ve reached the peak, you’ll continue walking along the ridge on a path that takes you to another peak named Dujuanling (杜鵑嶺). Completely different than the peak of Jialishan, this one is tree-covered and measures at an altitude of 2113m, just seven meters lower than the Jialishan. For a lot of hikers, the hike to Dujuanling means that they get to cross another one off of their list, so it’s well worth the extra effort.

That being said, there’s not much to see at the peak of Dujuanling, so you’ll probably just take a photo with the triangulation point and then continue making your way back down to the trailhead.

As mentioned earlier, one of the main reasons why the circuit hike is more attractive is that you get to travel through a more untouched portion of the forest, and then meet up with the area where a historic trolly system met with the timber railway.

Unlike the first portion of the trail, which pretty much just goes up, this part of the circuit trail has several areas where you’re going up, down, up, and then down again - it’s a lot harder on the legs - so if you’re hiking this one, you’re going to get a pretty good workout on the extra four kilometers of trail. Once again, given that you’ll need a few extra hours to complete this hike, the time you arrive at the trailhead is really important, as is your level of fitness. Requiring around eight hours, if you haven’t arrived early enough, it’s probably not a good idea to hike the circuit.

Trailhead (登山口): Jialishan Hiking Trail (加里山登山步道)

Trail Length (步道里程): 12.5km

Altitude (海拔高度): 1280-2220m

Time: 7-9 hours

Difficulty: (難易度): Medium-Difficult

Permit: (申請入山): No

The downloadable GPX for the Jialishan Circuit Trail is linked below:

Link: Jialishan Circuit Trail GPX (健行筆記)

Jialishan Timber Railway (加里山林業鐵道)

The historic ‘Old Street’ in Nanzhuang (南庄老街) has been a popular destination for weekend tourist crowds for quite a while, but unlike most of Taiwan’s other so-called ‘Old Streets’, such as Daxi Old Street (大溪老街), the history of Nanzhuang isn’t very well advertised. When you visit, you’ll find an incredible amount of Hakka and Indigenous culture and cuisine lining the streets, but explanations as to why the village was once so prosperous are hard to come by.

Like most of Taiwan’s other tourist old streets, you’ll find buildings constructed with baroque facades, a massive temple, and vendors lining the streets selling local snacks, but one of the problems caused by Miaoli being Taiwan’s most debt-ridden county is that it is unable to restore buildings of historic significance. In Nanzhuang’s case, the village would do well to follow the example of Daxi, and restore some of the buildings that were instrumental in bringing so much wealth to the village.

Link: The Daxi that Japan left behind (日本留下的大溪)

In 1918 (大正7年), the Taiwan Governor General’s Office established the Nanzhuang Camphor Forest Operations Headquarters (南庄樟林作業所), and over the next few decades, the village experienced massive growth thanks to the Forestry Industry, extracting not only camphor from the mountains, but citronella oil and coal, as well.

Jialishan, the highest mountain in the area was home to a large amount of camphor (樟腦), an incredibly important natural resource during the Japanese era, so the mountain became home to a highly developed logging industry that boasted over 5,200 meters of railway, and a cable trolly that transported timber down the mountain.

When the Japanese era came to an end, the timber industry continued for a short time, but the operation was eventually abandoned as camphor reserves were depleted, and its importance wained in favor of a synthetic alternative. Left abandoned for decades, the railway and (amazingly) some of the trolly equipment can still be found on the mountain today. As you hike the mountain, you’ll have the opportunity to walk along the historic railway in areas where the rails are still intact, but changes in the landscape over the years have made it so that the original route isn’t accessible or safe to hike.

While I do write hiking guides somewhat regularly, one of my areas of expertise with regard to my research and writing about Taiwan focuses on the island’s fifty year of Japanese colonial rule. Most of you are here for information on the hike, but I think it’s important to note how that period transformed a lot of what you’ll experience when you hike the Jialishan Trail today. The key thing to keep in mind was that in addition to Taiwan’s fruit, sugar and coal, camphor was one of the most important natural resources extracted by the Japanese, making the island an untapped treasure trove that assisted in amassing massive amounts of foreign exchange and fueling Taiwan’s development.

One area that is quite admirable, especially when you look back with a modern view of these things, is that there was enough foresight to realize that the extraction of camphor was an unsustainable industry, and that the reforestation of these mountainous areas was essential for not only the long-term health of the timber industry, but for the natural environment as well.

Scientists were sent to Taiwan to set up research stations in many of the main timber industry locations around the island, such as those in nearby Kappazan (角板山) and Chikuto (竹東). It was in these stations where they made scientific breakthroughs, such as in the cultivation of cinchona (金雞納樹), a flowering plant known for its medicinal value, especially with regard to treating malaria. In other cases, many of the mountainous forests around Taiwan were reforested with Japanese cedar (杉 / すぎ), which was also incredibly important for the future development and construction projects across Taiwan.

Today, you’ll find several ‘Forest Recreation Parks’ (森林遊樂區) around Taiwan that were once occupied by the timber industry, but have been converted into mountainous hiking trails where people are able to escape the city and enjoy nature. Dongyanshan (東眼山) in the mountains of Taoyuan is another well-known example, and is an area that was also reforested with beautiful Japanese cedars that have been growing for nearly a century.

Link: Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park (東眼山國家森林遊樂區)

For a lot of hikers, the abandoned railway on this hike is reminiscent of what you’ll experience on other popular tourist mountains, like Alishan (阿里山) and Taipingshan (太平山), but in this case, the railway isn’t as accessible, so the photos you’ll get won’t be the same as those that have become popular on Instagram in recent years!

preparing for the Hike

As mentioned earlier, while preparing to hike Jialishan, there are a few things you’ll first need to take into consideration as well as some other things you’ll want to take along with you for the hike, so I’ll offer a few helpful suggestions for those of you wanting to enjoy this trail.

The first, and probably most important thing you’ll want to consider is your level of fitness, and the amount of time you have to complete the hike.

In both cases, you’ll want to arrive early in the morning to start the hike, but when it comes to the ‘circuit’ hike, both the amount of time you have, and your level of fitness are going to be major factors in your level of success. The circuit hike is a lot longer, and a lot more difficult to complete, and you’re going to have to carry a lot more water and food with you if you choose that option. As a frequent hiker, when I’m not climbing mountains, I spend a lot of time on cardio at the gym, and still, at the end of this one, my legs were feeling a bit like rubber. If you have doubts, I highly recommend sticking to the shorter hike.

Things you’ll need to bring:

  • Water - It’s advisable that you carry at least 2-3 litres of water with you on this hike. Depending on how much water you drink, you might even want to carry more with you just in case. I completed the circuit hike, and I can attest that 2L was not sufficient.

  • Food - You should prepare some high-protein snacks, and bring a lunch that you can enjoy while hiking. As you pass through Nanzhuang, there are a number of convenience stores and supermarkets where you can stop and purchase snacks, but that will be your last chance to purchase anything, so make sure you have what you need beforehand, and also don’t forget to carry your garbage out with you.

  • Gloves - There are a number of areas where you’re going to have to pull yourself up a rock face with the help of ropes. The ropes are a great help, but they can be hard on your skin. You’ll probably want to prepare a pair of gloves that you can put on when necessary. Most hardware stores in Taiwan sell cheap $10NT work gloves that you can purchase for hikes like this. You don’t need to buy an expensive pair of gloves at a hiking store.

  • Sun Protection - One of my worst habits is that I rarely remember to prepare sunscreen (or a hat) for the hikes I go on, and I often end up getting heat stroke, which was the case with this hike. During the hike, especially when nearing the peak, you are going to be completely open to the sun, so you’ll want to make sure to prepare both sunscreen and a hat to protect yourself.

  • Towel / Quick Dry Clothing - You’re going to sweat on this one, so I highly recommend you bring a towel with you to wipe yourself down from time to time. I don’t sweat as much as most of my hiking friends, but I was absolutely dripping during this hike. Similarly, you’re going to want to wear quick-dry clothing to ensure that all of your sweat doesn’t result in you catching a cold when you’re done.

  • Windbreaker - While on the peak of the mountain, it’s going to be quite windy. You should probably consider preparing a windbreaker jacket to protect yourself.

  • Phone / Camera - This is something that I probably don’t really have to mention, but if the photos in this article aren’t already evidence enough, the trail and the peak are absolutely beautiful. You’ll definitely want to have something to help record your experience. On that note, though, if you have a drone, you should leave it at home. The peak of Jialishan is in a restricted zone, so you’ll have carried your heavy drone for nothing as it won’t take off unless you have a special permit.

  • Friends to enjoy the experience with - Hiking is always better with friends. For safety, don’t hike this one alone. Friends are also useful for helping to take photos.

Getting There

Jialishan Hiking Trail

Address: Luchang Communication Rd, Nanzhuang Township, Miaoli County (苗栗縣南庄鄉東河村鹿場24鄰19-20號)

GPS: 24.586000, 120.997240

Alright, so here’s the bad news. Getting to Jialishan isn’t so easy.

You more or less need to have your own means of transportation, and the road to the mountain is very remote and narrow. It’s more or less impossible for a bus to get up there, and if someone even attempted it, it would cause massive traffic jams or accidents on what are cliff-side roads.

The address and GPS coordinates I’ve provided above aren’t for the trailhead, they’re for the parking lot that is made available to hikers a short walk from where the trail starts.

If you have your own means of transportation, the parking lot has a fee of $100NT for the day, no matter how long you’re on the trail, and there will be people there to direct you where to park.

Included in your parking fees are access to a public restroom where you can use the washroom before and after your hike, or simply just to wash up.

The Parking Lot on Google Maps is listed as the “Jialishan Trailhead Forest Camping Area” (加里山登山口森林露營區), and there are camp grounds near by, which might actually be quite useful if you can get to the trail the night before and wake up early in the morning for the hike.

In terms of public transportation, there’s nothing that will get you even remotely close to the trail, so your only option would be to hop on a bus to Nanzhuang and then grabbing a taxi to the trailhead. That being said, getting back down from there would be a bit of a nightmare as its unlikely that many taxi drivers would be willing to go that far and take their car on the steep road just to pick you and your group up.

If you’re intent on hiking the trail, you’re in luck, as the best option would be to take a chartered ride with the good people at Parkbus, who often schedule trips to this mountain (as well as others) for a minimal charge.

I can’t guarantee the frequency for which they plan trips to this specific mountain, but as I’m looking at the site now, their next trip to Jialishan is taking place a month from now, so they likely have a regular schedule of trips to the mountain that you’ll want to keep track of.

Their services include both pick up and drop off at Taipei Station, so you’ll have your travel completely covered, as well as the assistance of an experienced English-speaking guide.

Link: Jiali Mountain -加里山 (Parkbus)

Long on my list of trails to hike, I have to say, I was quite content with this one. The day we hiked the mountain was absolutely beautiful with great weather and clear skies. The trail was fun, and even though I was feeling the pain when I got home, it was well worth it. The views from the peak of Jialishan are spectacular, and if you’re well-versed in Taiwan’s geography, you’ll easily be able to point out some of the other major mountains off in the distance. Suffice to say, this is a hike that is highly recommended, but you need to keep your level of fitness in mind, and make sure that you bring enough water and snacks to keep your body well-fueled for the experience.

If you end up hiking the mountain, have fun and be safe!


References

  1. 加里山 (Wiki)

  2. 加里山山脈 | Jialishan Range (Wiki)

  3. 台灣小百岳 (Wiki)

  4. 台灣小百岳列表 (Wiki)

  5. 加里山登山步道 (健行筆記)

  6. 加里山登山步道 | Mt. Jiali Summit Trail (台灣山林悠遊網)

  7. 苗栗加里山步道 (WalkerLand)

  8. 台灣小百岳苗栗加里山 (GoSunBody)

  9. Jiali Mountain (Taiwan Trails and Tales)

  10. Jiali Mountain (Parkbus)

  11. Hiking Jialishan (Taiwan Outdoors)