#Taiwanderful hashtag - Bluesky

Taiwan Cycle 100 – Taiwan’s Top 100 climbs and routes for riders who want more.

1 week ago

🚴‍♀️ Taiwan Cycle 100 - Taiwan's top 100 climbs and routes for cyclists who like a challenge

https://taiwancycle100.com/

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #cycling #台灣

3 1 0 0

Circling Taiwan in style - Taipei Times Bringing Taiwan to the World and the World to Taiwan

1 week ago

🚆 Taiwan Railways operates a twice daily "round the island" service in a Sanrio-themed train. It's a unique way to see Taiwan

www.taipeitimes.com/News/feat/archives/2026/...

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #trains #travel #台灣

1 3 0 0

The temple with the eating section on the side. I was looking for something to do on the weekend that was cheap, easy to get to by bike, and interesting. After looking around on Google, I saw “instant noodle temple.” Ok, I’m in. The “Yongan Instant Noodle Land God Temple” in Kaohsiung is the first temple in southern Taiwan where you can worship the Land God while also eating instant noodles. There is at least one more temple like this in Taiwan. maybe even several more. This temple, 永安烏林投玄德宮, started giving people instant noodles because they would have so many left over from celebrations and devotees. Of course, another reason is to get people to the area. It’s an area of Kaohsiung that people normally do not visit. So I grabbed a Youbike and headed north. It’s an area I go to often, but I haven’t been to this village since it became an instant noodle temple. The entrance to the small village of Wulintou 烏林投. There are tons of different brands of noodles and flavors, and of course, vegetarian options. The noodles are free, but there is a donation box nearby if you’d like to give a few bucks. Oodles of Noodles The eating area. I chose a black pepper beef flavor. The hot water machines and where to put away your trash. Nearby park. There are some lovely statues of the Land God along the way to check out, too. Tudigong (土地公), or the Land God, is a widely worshipped local guardian deity in Taiwan. He is responsible for protecting a specific, small area of land, such as a village, neighborhood, or field. Depicted as a friendly, elderly man with a white beard and a staff, he is considered a humble, lower-ranking bureaucratic deity After eating your noodles, you can walk around the beach and see the famous power plant. There’s also a nice walkway to walk along. Also nearby the Land God temple is the Yantian Painted Village. 永安鹽田彩繪村. If nearby, it’s worth it to check out the history of the salt industry painted on the old houses. My weekend ride. If looking for something to do and a cheap lunch, you could do worse than heading up along Kaohsiung’s northern coast and enjoying the views and, of course, a hot cup of instant noodles. You can Google this to find the temple. 永安泡麵土地公 The address is 828高雄市永安區興達路67之5號 ### Share this: * Share on X (Opens in new window) X * Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook * Like Loading... ### _Related_

2 weeks ago

Instant Noodle Earth God Temple (永安泡麵土地公) and Yantian Painted Village (永安鹽田彩繪村) - two lesser known attractions in Kaohsiung

formosajmac.com/2026/03/17/a-weekend-adv...

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #Kaohsiung #travel #台灣 #高雄

0 2 1 0

2 weeks ago

This travel writer thinks Jiufen is overrated, but he still loves Taiwan

"There are very few countries that I love as much as Taiwan. It is, in my opinion, the most underrated destination in Asia, and maybe one of the most underrated destinations in the world." […]

0 2 0 0

3 weeks ago

Sansa Public School Veneration Hall (三叉公學校奉安殿)

Located in Sanyi Township, Miaoli County, it's one of only three Japanese-era veneration halls still standing in Taiwan today

https://www.goteamjosh.com/blog/sansa

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #台灣

0 1 0 0

1 month ago

🎸 Kaohsiung math rock band Elephant Gym (大象體操) is one of Taiwan's musical success stories. They have built a global fan base and their story is told in a documentary titled "More Real Than Dreams"

www.taipeitimes.com/News/feat/archives/2026/...

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #music […]

0 1 1 0

Kicho Shrine (崎頂社) View fullsize Nestled within a remote industrial community on a mountain dividing the coastal northern Miaoli village of **Qiding** (崎頂), and the much larger town of **Chunan** (竹南), you’ll find the remnants of a ninety year old Shinto Shrine, a relic of Taiwan’s colonial heritage that few people realize exists. Affectionately known by locals as the ‘**Sunrise Shrine** ’ (日出神社), due to its location overlooking Taiwan’s western coast, most would be surprised to learn that such a place still exists in the country, but that might also be one of the reasons why the shrine has been able to escape a fate similar to so many of its contemporaries. As part of my personal work to document Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines, this is one of the locations that has been on my list of places to visit for quite some time, and even though much of the original shrine has already been lost, what little that does remain actually offers an important example that helps us better understand how shrines like this in Taiwan would have originally appeared. During the half century period of Japan’s colonial rule over Taiwan, around five-hundred shrines were constructed across the island, an astonishing number to say the least. However, when it comes to this subject, what tends to confuse a lot of people is that official estimates most often claim that there were only about two-hundred. There are several issues with these estimates, and with the hundreds of hours I spent researching this topic, I’d suggest that the number of shrines might actually actually be well over five-hundred. Clearly, the number that gets thrown around most of the time isn’t correct, but it’s also something that I can understand. The construction of shrines in Taiwan fell under an old classification system where they were considered either _official_ , _unofficial_ or _private_. To elaborate, Taiwan was home to about a hundred ‘officially’ ranked shrines divided between **Imperial Ranked Shrines** (官幣社), **Nationally Ranked Shrines** (国幣社), **County-Level Shrines** (縣社), **District-Level Shrines** (郷社), and **Unranked Shrines** (無格社). The confusion tends to originate from the fact that the vast majority of Taiwan’s shrines were considered ‘unrecognized’ and many of which were located within indigenous villages, **schools** (校內社), **factories and military bases** (構內社), etc. View fullsize There are a quite a few reasons why the actual number of shrines remains unclear, with the most obvious being that most of them were destroyed after the Second World War. Another reason, though, is that despite being excellent at keeping records, its highly likely that there were a number of unrecorded shrines, especially those located high in the mountains in locations that we’ve yet to discover. The colonial authorities had constructed hundreds of outposts high in the mountains in order to control and record the movements of Taiwan’s indigenous people, and most of them featured a shrine of some sort. The problem with identifying these shrines, though is that a lot of these outposts were located in such remote locations that you’d have to be a pretty intrepid mountain climber to reach them. Thus, it would take a considerable amount of effort, and a large team of researchers to traverse the mountains to document these things. It’s also important to note that in the 1930s, the establishment of shrines into Taiwan went into overdrive with the government pushing to have one constructed in every city, town and village across the island. Similarly, applications for the establishment of smaller shrines within industrial factories, military bases, schools, etc. were also encouraged as a means to aid in the full (and forced) integration of the people of Taiwan into citizens of the empire. The construction of shrines in Taiwan continued pretty much until pen was put to paper for their official surrender on September 2nd, 1945, and as the Japanese were leaving Taiwan, a number of shrines were still under construction. View fullsize Today, I’ll be introducing the remnants of one of those shrines constructed in the mid-1930s. The shrine, which was officially classed as an **unrecognized internal shrine** (構內社) to this day remains a great example of how shrines with this classification would have appeared during the colonial era, despite much of it having already been destroyed. Before I start to introduce the **Kicho Shrine** (崎頂社), though, I need to briefly explain the reason it was constructed and who was actually responsible for its establishment. When I’ve finished, I’ll move on to briefly explaining the history of the shrine and the kami who were enshrined within. I’ll also provide a detailed introduction to its layout and architectural design as well as offer instructions on how to get there for anyone interested in visiting. # **Shinchiku Agricultural Institute**(新竹州立農業傳習所） View fullsize If you visit today, you’ll find that the Kicho Shrine is located on a hill to the rear of what appears to be a private company or a factory, but is in fact the ‘**Veterinary Research Institute** ’ (農業部獸醫研究所) operated by the **Ministry of Agriculture** (農業部). Over the years, the research institute has had a number of names, but it dates back to 1933 (昭和8年) when it was established as the ‘**Shinchiku Prefecture Agricultural Training Institute** ’ (新竹州立農業傳習所), including both a scientific research station and an Agricultural Vocational Training School. During the Japanese era, the colonial government invested considerably in improving Taiwan’s agricultural production through the training of a generation of farmers equipped with modern tools and techniques, in addition to setting up agricultural experimentation stations around the island. The government established institutes in Taipei, Hsinchu and Tainan, and courses included modern agricultural concepts, plant physiology, animal husbandry and livestock management, agricultural product processing, agricultural economics, etc. As a bonus for graduating from the program, internships were offered to students in a myriad of agricultural sectors ranging from the cultivation of rice, fruit, vegetables, sugar, tea, tobacco, fertilizer production, and on state-operated livestock and poultry farms. View fullsize Students from the institute on a field trip to a memorial site for Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa Admissions to the institute were extremely competitive with only about thirty students admitted annually, but tuition was free of charge, and students were only responsible for paying for their own personal bedding and supplies. Eligible students were males between the ages of 17 and 25, who had graduated from public schools or public agricultural preparatory schools (農業補習學校). Additionally, prospective students had to receive a recommendation from local officials, and they had to take a number of difficult written and physical exams. Applicants had to be able-bodied citizens, and as part of their tuition-free education, they were required to assist in strengthening Japanese-spirit through their training in martial arts and gymnastics as well as traveling around the island making speeches. View fullsize In 1942, the school moved to nearby **Toufen** (頭份), while the research station continued its operations. Similarly, after the war, the institute carried on its agricultural research functions, but instead of focusing on education, it became the **Taiwan Provincial Research Institute for Animal Health** (臺灣省農林處獸疫血清製造所), and a few decades later, it was converted into the Ministry of Agriculture’s **Veterinary Research Institute** (農業部獸醫研究所), which serves as an animal breeding and testing environment that does biomedical research and its work is instrumental in the pre-clinical evaluation of newly developed drugs, medical devices, and biotechnology products. However, throughout its history, one of the things that has remained the same about the research facility is that they have done experimentation on animals, and that is one of the reasons why a shine was constructed on the grounds, and also why even today, despite the Shinto Shrine being long gone, you’ll still find people praying at the shrine for the animals that have passed through its testing facilities. # **Kicho Shrine** (崎頂社 / きちょじゃ) View fullsize With the Shinchiku Prefecture Agricultural Training Institute established in 1933 (昭和8年), it wouldn’t take very long for the school to establish a shrine on-site. In both my introduction above, and my explanation of the history of the institute, it probably shouldn’t surprise anyone that there would have been a Shinto Shrine located on the grounds. First, the establishment of the institute came at a time when the colonial government was pushing, if not forcing, nationalization and Japanese-spirit on the people of Taiwan, and the vast majority of shrines that were constructed in Taiwan were built during the 1930s. Similarly, one of the main goals of the institute, apart from fostering a new generation of agricultural power, was to assist with the promotion of nationalism. Thus, it shouldn’t be too surprising that within a year of the institution’s establishment, the application process for the construction of an on-site shrine was swiftly approved. Construction was completed late in 1934 (昭和9年), and the opening ceremony were held on December 29th. The shrine was officially known as the ‘**Kicho Shrine** ’ (崎頂社 / きちょじゃ), named after the location in Miaoli where it was constructed. View fullsize During the Japanese-era, Kicho was a suburb of **Chikunan** (竹南街 / ちくなんがい), which we refer to today as **Chunan** (竹南鎮), and the agricultural institute was actually just a short walk away from the nearby **Kicho Station** (崎頂驛 / きちょうえき), which connected the two areas, geographically separated by a mountain. **Link** : Qiding Railway Tunnels (崎頂子母隧道) One of the interesting things about the establishment of the Kicho Shrine is that it actually predates the area’s largest shrines, the **Chikunan Shrine** (竹南神社／ちくなんじんじゃ) and the **Tofun Shrine** (頭分神社／とうふんじんじゃ), both of which were inaugurated several years later in 1940 (昭和15年), and thus didn’t exist for very long prior to the end of the Second World War. Its important to note that in terms of its place in the shrine hierarchy, Kicho Shrine was placed directly under the auspices of the **Prefectural Shinchiku Shrine** (新竹神社／しんちくじんじゃ), but if either of the shrines mentioned above had been constructed earlier, they would have played a larger role in its operations. That being said, as a ‘**kounai shrine** ’ (構內社 / こうないしゃ), its day-to-day maintenance was carried out as a collective effort by the students and staff at the institute. View fullsize Interestingly, when the shrine was opened in 1934, it wasn’t actually fully completed. The construction came at a time when the colonial government was both pushing the construction of shrines around the island, but also at a time when the development of Taiwan had come to a point where the Japanese were able to start refining things. Having just published a policy guide titled the ‘**Regulations for Shrine Construction** ’ (神社建設之要點), the application for the establishment of Kicho Shrine was approved, but it wouldn’t be formally recognized until a year later when the standard layout of a shrine was completed with the addition of a **Shrine Gate** (鳥居), and a traditional fence surrounding the worship area of the shrine, both of which I’ll introduce later. In most cases, when I write about historic structures from the Japanese-era, I include a timeline of events to help readers better understand the history of these places. In the case of this particular shrine, however, it is difficult to produce an authoritative timeline of events given that its history hasn’t been very well recorded. What we know is that from 1933 to 1945, the shrine was an important part of the daily activities at the research institute. What took place after the war, though, is unclear. The main worship area of the shrine was at some part removed or destroyed, but most of the other parts of the shrine remained intact, and possibly abandoned for quite some time as nature was permitted to pretty much take over the area. View fullsize Nature taking over the entrance to the shrine. At some point, though, the area was cleaned up, and on the pedestal where the shrine once existed, a Buddhist shrine was erected, dedicated to the Buddha **Jizo** (地藏菩薩), which I’ll also mention later. When you visit today, it’s likely that you’ll find that both candles and incense have been lit at the shrine by the staff at the institute, who use the shrine to pray for the animals who have passed through the laboratory. In this way, the historic Kicho Shrine has been both maintained and preserved by the staff, but has yet to receive official recognition by the local government as a heritage property, despite one of the Japanese-era buildings constructed within the institute receiving that recognition. # **Kami Worshipped at the Kicho Shrine** View fullsize Its important to note that since this shrine was located within an Animal Health Research Institute, which required experimentation, and sadly, the death of innocent animals, in order to improve the conditions of agricultural production, the kami chosen to be enshrined within were meant to assist both the employees of the institute and the students of the adjacent school pray for their safe passage, and ultimately for the success of their work. The following were the three kami originally enshrined at Kicho Shrine: * # Kami enshrined at Kicho Shrine **Amaterasu (天照皇大神)** Originating in the **Kojiki** (古事記 / こじき), Japan’s ancient book of records, it is said that after the god and goddess of creation, **Izanami** (伊邪那美命) and **Izanagi** (伊邪那岐神) created the islands of Japan, they went on to give birth to a number of deities (or natural phenomena) like the mountains, ocean, grass, food, etc. However, when Izanami gives birth to the fire deity, **Kagutsuchi** (カグツチ), her entire body is burnt, and she died of her injuries. Stricken by grief, Izanagi, makes his way into hell, known in Japanese as ‘**Yomi** ’ (黄泉 / よみ) to bring her back, but all he finds is a rotten corpse. Terrified, he fled from hell, and when he returned to the world of the living, he performed a ritual purification ceremony in the Tachibana River. As he washes his face, the goddess **Amaterasu** (天照大神) appeared from the water of his left eye, the moon god **Tsukuyomi** (月讀 / つくよみ) from his right eye, and **Susanoo** (素戔嗚尊 / すさのおのみこと), from his nose. Known as the ‘**Three Precious Children** ’ (三貴子), the three kami would become the most significant Shinto deities, but Amaterasu has become known as one of, if not at least, the chief deity of Shintoism. Known more formally as **Amaterasu-Omikami** (天照大御神), she is the goddess of the sun and the universe, ruling from heaven. However, given that her light is essential in both heaven and earth, she has sent her descendants to act on her behalf, which also makes her the creator of the Imperial House of Japan and giving legitimacy to their rule. Enshrined at the **Ise Grand Shrine** (伊勢神宮) in **Mie Prefecture** (三重縣), the shrine is one of Shinto's holiest sites and both a major pilgrimage center and tourist spot. Despite being known as the goddess of the sun, Amaterasu is known to hold dominion over a myriad of the world’s natural phenomena, possibly even holding dominion over death. One of her key roles, though, is that her worship is most directly linked to the worship of “ _Japan”_ or the “ _Japanese Spirit,_ ” also known as **Yamato-damashii** (大和魂). With regard to Taiwan, this became problematic during the period when State Shintoism was one of the tools used to fuel the militarism of the Second World War, and even though her worship predates any of that insanity by more than thirteen centuries, it was difficult to separate them. Thus, given Japan’s war crimes, and the fact that most of the shrines constructed in Taiwan would have been home to an Amaterasu Shrine, it shouldn’t be surprising that this is one of the reasons why the Chinese Nationalists were so keen on destroying them. **Toyoke no Omikami** (豐受大神 / トヨウケビメノカミ) ‘Toyoke no Omikami’ is a female kami that hails from Japanese mythology known simply as the Japanese ‘Goddess of Food,’ but is more specifically referred to as the ‘Kami of Agriculture and Industry’ serving a role similar to the Three Pioneer kami mentioned above. Residing at the **Ise Grand Shrine** (伊勢神宮), she is known to provide food for her counterpart, the sun goddess **Amaterasu** (天照大神), which means that when you encountered a shrine dedicated to one, the other would surely be there as well. **Link** : _Toyouke-hime_ (Wiki) **Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa** (北白川宮能久親王) Prince Yoshihisa, a western educated Major-General in the Japanese Imperial Army, and a member of the Japanese imperial family 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), giving him the dubious honor of being the first member of the Japanese royal family to pass away while outside of Japan in more than nine hundred years in addition to being the first to die in war. Shortly after his death he was elevated to the status of a ‘kami’ under state Shinto and was given the name “ _Kitashirakawa no Miya Yoshihisa-shinno no Mikoto_ “, and subsequently became one of the most important patron deities here in Taiwan, as well as being enshrined at the **Yasukuni Shrine** (靖國神社) in Tokyo. Of the more than four-hundred shrines constructed around Taiwan during the Japanese-era, its safe to say that Prince Yoshihisa was enshrined within at least ninety percent of them, making him one of the most prolific kami in Taiwan. **Link** : _Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa_ (Wiki) # **Architectural Design** View fullsize The architectural design of the shrine is somewhat difficult to describe in great detail, due to there only being a few remaining pieces of the original shrine, and because there aren’t any historic photos available. That being said, the general layout of the shrine remains, and from what you’ll experience when you visit, if you understand the general concept of how Shinto Shrines are designed, you’ll have a pretty good indication of what once existed on site. The first thing to remember about the Kicho Shrine is that it was located on the grounds of an agricultural institute, and like the vast majority of Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines that were located on school grounds or on the grounds of a private company, it was considerably smaller than what you could expect from a full-fledged shrine, such as the nearby **Chikunan** **Shrine** (竹南神社). View fullsize Despite its relative size, though, the shrine included quite a few important elements that you’ll find at both smaller and larger shrines. So, let me first offer a list of what once existed on the shrine: * **Visiting Path** (參道 / さんどう) - The Visiting Path included a stone pathway to the shrine, a **shrine gate** (鳥居 / とりい), **stone lanterns** (石燈籠 / しゃむしょ) lining both sides of the path, and (possibly) a set of **komainu** (狛犬 / こまいぬ) stone guardians. * **Purification Fountain** (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ) - located on the western side of the Visiting Path, the Purification Fountain was a simple stone water fountain where visitors could perform a purification ritual prior to worshipping at the shrine. * **Shrine Fence** (玉垣 / たまがき) - a small stone fence that surrounded the sacred area of the shrine, preventing people from wandering into a space where they shouldn’t be. This part of the shrine was constructed about a year after it was officially established, along with the shrine gate. * **Main Hall (本殿 / ほんでん) -** Elevated on a ‘**kidan** ’ (基壇 / きだん) stone platform, the Main Hall was a small wooden structure that was the home of the shrine’s kami. With an idea of what once existed at the shrine, its time to talk about what continues to exist today. View fullsize When you visit the shrine today, the first thing you’ll encounter at the bottom of the hill is the stone Visiting Path. To the average observer, the path might just seem like a set of steps that leads up to the shrine. However, in Shintoism, the path plays a much more important role than you might think. In Japanese, the path is known as a “ _sando_ ” (さんどう), and is an essential aspect of the layout of a shrine. Serving both a functional and symbolic purpose, the point of the path is that it is meant to be part of the journey one takes on their road to spiritual purification. Keeping in mind that ‘Shintoism’ itself is literally translated as the “ _Pathway to the Gods_ ” (神道), having a literal path that leads the worshiper from the realm of the profane to that of the sacred is quite important. In this case, the path leads from the bottom of the hill to the area where the shrine is located, but from the bottom, you can’t actually see the shrine, which is pretty cool. It’s only until you climb the steps to the top that the shrine will come into view. In most cases, these paths are lined by sets of stone lanterns, which are placed at random intervals on either side. View fullsize At this shrine, though, walking up the path, you won’t notice any evidence that there were any lanterns set on the hill. At the top, however, you’ll find a single set of lanterns just beyond a circular set of cement blocks where the Shrine Gate once existed. The two lanterns are quite small compared to what you’ll generally see at shrines, and you won’t find any information etched onto the rear of the lantern, as is the custom, which typically gives the date they were constructed or when they were donated to the shrine. Thus, with little information available regarding their creation, it’s possible that they might not be the original lanterns that were placed along the path. However, from the photos I’ve seen of the shrine over recent years, especially from those from the time prior to the site being cleaned up and maintained, it’s likely that they’ve been there for quite a while. View fullsize Similarly, part of that sacred journey along the ‘Visiting Path’ is marked by a purification process that is performed at the shrine’s **Purification Fountain** (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ). An essential part of the shrine experience, the size of the shrine doesn’t particularly matter very much as you’re (almost) always going to find one on the path. In this case, though, the Purification Fountain has long since been removed, and its location seems unclear. Pedestal for where the original shrine gate once existed. The gate was obviously constructed with wood. If typical shrine layout gives any indication, though, it was likely located on the left-side of the Visiting Path between the Shrine Gate and the Stone Lanterns. I did some checking on the ground, but due to the condition of the tree near the shrine, it was difficult to see any evidence of where it was once located. It’s also possible that the fountain was destroyed by parts of the tree dying. Finally, one of the major differences between this shrine, and a larger type of shrine, such as the nearby **Chikunan** **Shrine** (竹南神社) mentioned above, is that there weren’t dedicated buildings for the **Hall of Worship** (拜殿 /はいでん) with a **Main Hall** (本殿/ほんでん) located to its rear. View fullsize Instead, the shrine was just a ‘miniature’ version of a ‘Main Hall’ that was propped up on an elevated base. The base, known in Japanese as a ‘kidan’ (基壇 / きだん), in addition to the base that surrounds it, the set of stairs that allowed worshippers to approach the shrine as well as the stairs on the ‘kidan’ all remain in pretty good shape. The original shrine that once stood on top of the base, however, has been removed. In its place, you’ll currently find four metal poles holding up a metal roof that is somewhat reminiscent of a Japanese-style roof, but also quite different at the same time. The replacement shrine is actually similar to what you’ll see at the **Yuanshan Shinto Shrine** (圓山水神社) in Taipei in the way that it has been constructed on top of the original shrine in a fusion style of design. View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize It’s also important to note that the shrine is now home to a beautiful standing statue of the **Buddha Jizo** (地蔵菩薩 /じぞうぼさつ), who is more commonly known in Taiwan as **Dizang** , or **Ksitigarbha**. In the Japanese tradition, Jizo is an extremely important Buddhist figure, and his placement at the shrine here isn’t random. Like all Buddhas Jizo is known for his compassion, but in this case, he is most well-known for his efforts to protect children, travelers and pilgrims. Likewise, he is known for his ability to protect communities from evil spirits, epidemics and other misfortunes, but more importantly, he is renowned for his ability to protect the dead from suffering. Obviously, in the current era there isn’t any need for a shrine like the one that used to exist in this location, but given the work that is done at the research facility, it’s only fitting that the area is home to a Jizo statue. View fullsize One of the things that ended up confusing me with regard to the information available about the shrine was that a year after it was established, the Shrine Gate, and a **Shrine Fence** (玉垣 / たまがき) were added to the site. As I mentioned above, there is clear evidence that the gate once existed along the path, but the fence is a bit of a mystery. It’s possible that the fence once surrounded the base of the shrine, and was destroyed or removed, but there’s not much evidence to give any indication that it was there. Given the size of the shrine, it would be safe to assume that the fence would be quite small, so it was likely that it surrounded the base rather than the entire grounds on the top of the hill. But, there’s no indication that anything once existed either on the base itself, or on the ground next to where the cement was laid. View fullsize What you’ll see at the shrine today is clearly not what you would have seen in the mid-1930s, but clearly, a significant portion of the original shrine remains intact, which makes it an important relic of Taiwan’s history. Until now, the shrine’s maintenance has been taken care of by the agricultural research institute below, but at some point the Miaoli County government will likely have to designate it as a protected heritage site in order to both preserve the site as well as making a visit to the shrine safer anyone interested in checking it out. # **Getting There** > **Address** : 350苗栗縣竹南鎮崎頂里牧場21號 > > **GPS** : 24.713548, 120.872531 Well, here comes the bad news. Visiting the shrine isn’t that easy, but its also not impossible if you’re willing to make a little effort. If you’ll notice above, the address I’ve provided is only in Chinese. This is a pretty rare occurrence here on this website, but this particular address doesn’t translate to English on Google Maps, nor does it actually give you the exact location of the shrine. The address I’m providing is only to give you an indication of where the shrine is located, so I’ve just used the Animal Research Institute as a marker. If you have your own means of transportation, whether it’s by car or scooter, getting there shouldn’t be too difficult with either the address of the GPS coordinates provided above. However, the road where the shrine is located is quite narrow, and you can’t park there, so you’ll have to find a spot a bit of distance away and walk to the trailhead for the shrine. For those of you relying on public transportation, the best advice I can give is that you can either walk, or pick up a Youbike from **Qiding Railway Station** (崎頂車站), which is one stop south of **Xiangshan Station** (香山車站). If you find yourself in this area, you’ll also be able to check out the **Xiangshan Wetlands** (香山溼地), the **Qiding Railway Tunnels** (崎頂子母隧道), and a number of other popular tourist destinations along the Hsinchu Coastal Highway, which are excellent for biking. View fullsize Whether you’re riding a bike or walking, when you leave the train station, you’ll walk in the direction of of the **Zhunan Brewery** (竹南啤酒廠) on **Ren’ai Road**(仁愛路) until you pass by **Sanfeng Road** (三峰路). This is where it gets tricky. There are a number of nameless alleys in the area and you’ll need to turn right down one of them. Without an actual name for the alley, it’s difficult to point you in the direction you need to go, so the best I can do is tell you that there is a factory with a big white sign on the corner that has a red flower and the words “國順“ which is where you’ll turn right. You’ll know you’re on the right road because there is an odd erect-looking red and white tower in the distance. From there you’ll continue making your way straight as you pass by some brick buildings on the right side. Eventually the road will curve and you’ll come across an open hill with a fence, which is pretty much the trailhead for the shrine. Once you’ve made it to the fence, you’ll walk up the hill, and keep walking along the fenced off area, passing through an open space in a beautiful banyan tree. If you keep following the fence, you’ll eventually come across the stairs that lead up to the entrance of the shrine. View fullsize If you’re walking, the amount of time it takes you to get there from the train station should only be about 15-20 minutes. If you’re on a Youbike on the other hand, the amount of time it takes should be considerably shorter, unless you get lost, which I have to admit, I did. At this point, I’ll have to caution you. There are warning signs along the path that indicate a bit of danger with the trees in the area. They are on the verge of falling over, so the staff at the research institute have taped the area off. You can easily ignore these things, but you’ll have to enter the area at your own caution as they’ve done their due diligence in warning people about the dangers of entering the area. The level of danger, however, doesn’t particularly seem to be too threatening as there has been some work done to remove trees and prop up the tree that seems to be causing the most trouble. If you’ve made the effort to travel all the way to this remote area, then you’ll probably want to follow through and check out the shrine. # **References** 1. Shinchiku Prefecture | 新竹州 **中文** | 新竹州 **日文** (Wiki) 2. 竹南郡 **中文** | 竹南県 **日文** (Wiki) 3. 竹南街 (Wiki) 4. 新竹州立農業傳習所 (Wiki) 5. List of Shinto shrines in Taiwan | 台灣神社列表 **中文** | 台湾の神社 **日文** (Wiki) 6. 崎頂神社遺址步道 (健行筆記) 7. 苗栗縣竹南鎮崎頂神社、青草山 (Joy and Tom) 8. 秘境中的秘境崎頂日出神社 (到處走走的旅遊手扎) 9. 新竹州 - 牧場神社 (台湾に渡った日本の神々) * * * # **Gallery /****Flickr (High Res Photos)** Featured Feb 21, 2026 Kicho Shrine (崎頂社) Feb 21, 2026 Feb 21, 2026 Feb 14, 2026 Taiwan Sacrificial Rites Martial Temple (臺灣祀典武廟) Feb 14, 2026 Feb 14, 2026 Jan 17, 2026 Fongyi Tutorial Academy (鳳儀書院) Jan 17, 2026 Jan 17, 2026

1 month ago

⛩️ Kicho Shrine (崎頂社) in Miaoli County, Taiwan

Lots of great photos and historical background about this Japanese era Shinto shrine

https://www.goteamjosh.com/blog/kicho

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #Shinto #台灣

4 4 0 0

The 10 Best Taiwanese Movies of 2025 #### by The Editors #### #### 語言: English _ _Photo Credit: Cinema Escapist _Curious about the**Best Taiwanese Movies of 2025**?_ _The editors ofNew Bloom and Cinema Escapist have come together for the fifth year in a row to curate a list to help satisfy your curiosity. _ _Across commercial blockbusters and independent gems, we tried looking for Taiwanese movies from 2025 that had some sort of artistic or social significance, or saw success among viewers both in Taiwan and internationally. The resulting 10 movies of this list represent a variety of genres ranging from horror, documentary, thrillers, and family dramas, and should provide a variety of choices to fit different tastes._ _To help you more easily watch these movies, we’ve also included streaming links on platforms like Netflix for certain movies, though availability will vary by country._ _Let’s take a look at 2025’s top Taiwanese movies!_ ## 10. GATAO: Big Brothers **Chinese Title: 角頭－大橋頭 | Director: Yao Hung-I, Ray Jiang | Starring: Wang Shih-Sian, Tsai Chen-Nan, Jack Kao, Sun Peng, Lung Tien-Hsiang, Hsi-Sheng Chen | Genre(s): Crime, Action** ** _GATAO: Big Brothers_** is the latest installment in the long-running GATAO franchise, Taiwan’s best-known and longest-running contemporary gangster film series. _GATAO: Big Brothers_ is the fifth GATAO film, this time following a gang war between rival criminal organizations in northern and southern Taiwan. It proves rare for domestic Taiwanese productions to produce one, much less four sequels, making GATAO a rarity in the landscape of Taiwanese film today. GATAO films have stood out for their high production values and romanticized depiction of gangsters. Set in the aftermath of the previous film, the protagonist this time is Michael, an up-and-coming gang leader, who ends up embroiled in conflict after his father starts a turf war. Michael, then, seeks to expand his group’s territory and displace other gangs. With shades of _The Godfather_ , Big Brothers focuses less on the day-to-day life of gangs, but on their political machinations. ## 9. Before the Bright Day ****Chinese Title: 南方時光 | Director: Tsao Shih-Han | Starring: Wu Kang-Ren, Sun Shu-Mei, Chen Hsuan-Li, Cheng Yu-Chieh, Huang Di-Yang | Genre(s): Drama, Family**** A period piece set in 1990s Taiwan, ** _Before the Bright Day_** follows high schooler Xiao-zhou in the last days of Taiwan’s democratization. A coming-of-age story, Xiao-zhou’s high school life plays out amidst the 1996 Taiwan Strait Crisis and the economic crash of the 1990s. Xiao-zhou comes into conflict with his family after falling in with a gang that hangs out in a pool hall, even as what he seeks is in fact a sense of autonomy from his parents and social expectations. Taiwan’s democratization has increasingly become a setting for coming-of-age stories in past years, whether that be _Your Name Engraved Herein_, _Girlfriend Boyfriend_, or others. In interviews, director Tsao Shih-han has stated that the movie was inspired by his own sense of getting older amidst turbulent times, taking inspiration from Edward Yang’s _Taipei Story_ in his own work. ## 8. A Chip Odyssey **Chinese Title: 造山者－世紀的賭注 | Director: Hsiao Chu-chen | Genre(s): Documentary** One movie that received significant buzz in Taiwanese media during 2025 was ** _A Chip Odyssey_**.This documentary chronicles the origins and growth of Taiwan’s advanced semiconductor industry with a particular focus on TSMC, starting in the early 1970s and extending chronologically to the present day. While _A Chip Odyssey_ will probably not win any awards for artistry or cinematography, it offers a more humanistic view of semiconductor geopolitics in relation to Taiwan, and deeper access to Taiwan’s semiconductor pioneers, than any Anglophone reportage on the topic. The documentary is also worth analyzing as a work of political messaging, with rather overt calls for Taiwanese to, in the face of a de-globalizing world and increasingly powerful China, maintain the same spirit of self-sacrifice as those who built the island’s semiconductor industry. Learn more about _A Chip Odyssey_ in our full-length review. ## 7. Marching Boys **Chinese Title: 進行曲 | Director: Ray Jiang | Starring: Lee Lee-zen, Ma Chih-hsiang, Mu Sen, Liu Yu-jen, Yu Chieh-en | Genre(s): Drama, Musical, Youth** **_Marching Boys_** follows two boys at Taipei Municipal Chien Kuo High School–historically Taiwan’s most prestigious men’s high school—who play in the school band. A story of youthful rebellion, the members of the band clash not only with each other, but the high academic expectations placed on them, as they ponder their future. As is traditional in Taiwanese society, expectation is that they will pursue careers such as doctor or lawyer, and sacrifice other dreams in order to achieve such success. Purported to be based on a real story and set in 1991, _Marching Boys_ reflects the social mores of 1990s Taiwan in its depiction of the lives of high schoolers–not only with regards to familial pressure on choice of career, but views on sexuality at the time. The themes of _Marching Boys_ , however, on adolescence and youth, still resonate far after the 1990s. ## 6. Family Matters **Chinese Title: 我家的事 | Director: Pan Ke-yin | Starring: Tseng Jing-hua, Lan Wei-hua, Alexia Kao, Queena Huang, Jack Yao, Yen Yi-wen | Genre(s): Drama, Family** While films about family conflicts are a dime a dozen these days in Taiwanese cinema, it still proves rarer to see one that focuses on a family across an extended period of time.**_Family Matters_** sets itself apart from other contemporary Taiwanese films, following four members of the same family across 24 years. With a four-part structure framed as the four seasons, the movie draws from director Pan Ke-yin’s own life with its setting in rural Changhua. _Family Matters_ takes a humanistic lens to its subjects. Yet the movie takes the view of family as both a social construct and one rooted in experience. In depicting the same characters across a quarter-century, the movie depicts the vicissitudes of experience that goes into making a family. ## **5.** Mudborn **Chinese Title: 泥娃娃 | Director: Shieh Meng-ju | Starring: Tony Yang, Puff Kuo, Cecilia Choi, Derek Chang, Tracy Chou | Genre(s): Horror, Thriller** Fans of the supernatural horror genre should check out ** _Mudborn_**. One of 2026’s highest-grossing Taiwan-made movies, _Mudborn_ draws inspiration from a creepy Mandarin nursery rhyme with its story about a VR game developer who brings back a damaged clay doll from a haunted site for “research purposes”, only to have his pregnant wife become obsessed with the doll in a series of paranormally escalating events. Besides the regular gamut of Taiwanese superstition around exorcisms and curses, _Mudborn_ also leans into its protagonist’s profession by blending VR game mechanics into its depiction of paranormal phenomena. With tight pacing, solid production values, and decent acting, _Mudborn_ represents a refreshing and entertaining entry into the canon of Taiwanese horror movies. ## **4.** 96 Minutes **Chinese Title: 96分鐘 | Director: Hung Tzu-Hsuan | Starring: Austin Lin, Vivian Sung, Wang Po-chieh, Lee Lee-zen | Genre(s): Action, Crime, Thriller** **_96 Minutes_** was one of Taiwan’s most anticipated commercial blockbusters of 2025, and it generally lived up to expectations by becoming the highest grossing Taiwan-made movie of the year. The film’s plot blends _Speed_ and _Train to Busan_, and has quite a few parallels with _Bullet Train Explosion_ (which is one of 2025’s more notable Japanese movies). In _96 Minutes_ , top stars Austin Lin and Vivian Sung star as a former bomb disposal technician and his estranged police officer wife, respectively, who must team up to defuse a bomb on a moving Taiwan High Speed Rail train. Meanwhile, tensions between passengers on the train, and a conspiracy around a government cover-up, complicate the pair’s efforts. While _96 Minutes_ can get a bit melodramatic at times, it offers high-octane thriller sequences not often seen in Taiwanese movies, which often lean more towards family dramas and romances. The film ended up winning 2025’s Golden Horse Award for best visual effects, along with nominations in several other categories like best cinematography and best choreography. ## **3.** Girl **Chinese Title: 女孩 | Director: Shu Qi | Starring: Roy Chiu, 9m88, Bai Xiao-Ying, Lai Yu-Fei, Lin Pin-Tung | Genre(s): Drama, Coming-of-Age** See also ### Celebrating a God’s Birthday with a Temple Rave EnglishLife ·December 7, 2020·8 min read Helmed by Shu Qi—best known for starring in many movies from Hou Hsiao-hsien—in her debut as a director, ** _Girl_** follows teenager Hsiao-lee as she grows up in 1980s Taiwan. Domestic strife characterizes Hsiao-lee’s adolescence, however, seeing as she has an alcoholic father who abuses her and her mother. But Hsiao-lee’s mother, in turn, also takes out her emotions on her daughter. Drawing from Shu Qi’s own experiences as a child of the 1980s, the movie notably follows both Hsiao-lee and her father, seeking to get inside the head of an abusive parent. The influence of Hou Hsiao-hsien, too, is self-apparent, unsurprising given that many of Shu Qi’s most lauded performances are in Hou movies. One can compare Lee Kang-sheng—best-known for his role as the protagonist of Tsai Ming-liang’s oeuvre—and his own efforts at directing. But it is to be seen whether Shu’s turn at filmmaking proves a one-time foray or marks a new career for the general actress. ## **2.** A Foggy Tale **Chinese Title: 大濛 | Director: Chen Yu-hsun | Starring: Caitlin Fang, Will Or, 9m88, Tseng Jing-Hua | Genre(s): Drama, History** Winner of Best Narrative Feature at 2025’s Golden Horse Awards _,_**_A Foggy Tale_** enjoyed significant critical acclaim and audience buzz with a moving story set in Taiwan’s White Terror era. The movie centers on the efforts of a teenage girl from Chiayi who journeys to Taipei in the hopes of retrieving her executed brother’s body, as well as raising funds to pay for the retrieval. Along the way, she bonds with a rickshaw driver who helps her navigate the trials and tribulations of their trek northwards. Viewers and critics alike have especially praised _A Foggy Tale_ for its art direction and character dynamics; the film brings 1950’s Taiwan to life with immense attention to detail, and creates a sense of “foggy” oppressive fear appropriate to its title and political context. _A Foggy Tale_ has echoes of Hou Hsiao-hsien’s renowned film _A City of Sadness_ in this regard, though it is generally more accessible with a warmer tone and streaks of humor. If you’re looking for a Taiwanese movie that blends an emotionally deep character-driven narrative with valuable historical context, _A Foggy Tale_ should be on your watchlist. ## **1. Left-Handed Girl** **Chinese Title: 左撇子女孩 | Director: Shih-Ching Tsou | Starring: Janel Tsai, Shih-Yuan Ma, Nina Ye, Brando Huang, Akio Chen | Genre(s): Drama, Family** Our last selection for 2025’s best Taiwanese movie is ** _Left-Handed Girl_**. It was quite challenging to choose whether _A Foggy Tale_ or _Left-Handed Girl_ should earn the #1 spot, as both are excellent movies. Whereas _A Foggy Tale_ enjoyed significant attention within Taiwan, _Left-Handed Girl_ garnered much more international buzz (and became Taiwan’s 2025 Best International Film Oscar nominee)—though that’s not to say Taiwanese critics and viewers didn’t take note of it, given the film also garnered nominations to and a Best New Performer award at the 2025 Golden Horse Awards. _Left-Handed Girl_ focuses on a five year old girl named I-Jing who has just moved back to Taipei with her mother Shu-fen and older sister I-Ann, after several years in the countryside. Together, the family set up a noodle stand in a night market, and I-Jing must learn to navigate the novel challenges of urban life. Directed by Shih-Ching Tsou and co-written by Sean Baker (of _Anora_ and _The Florida Project_), _Left-Handed Girl_ has tonal echoes of Baker’s other films whilst capturing the full essence of its Taiwanese context. Gritty yet heartfelt, _Left-Handed Girl_ finds beauty in the margins and brings it to life. Learn more about _Left-Handed Girl_ in our full length-review | Stream this Taiwanese movie on Netflix • • • **Want more Taiwanese movies?** Check out our lists of 2023 and 2024‘s best Taiwanese films!

3 months ago

🎬 The top 10 Taiwanese movies of 2025 according to the editors of New Bloom and Cinema Escapist

nomanisanis.land/the-10-best-taiwanese-mo...

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #movies #cinema #台灣 #電影

0 1 0 0

3 months ago

Cover of the book A Cyclist’s Guide to Taiwan. It features a cyclist riding on a mountain road.

🚴 A new book written by a Dutch couple details 50 cycling routes in all parts of Taiwan including offshore islands

www.taipeitimes.com/News/feat/archives/2025/...

#Taiwan #cycling #Taiwanderful #台灣

3 1 0 0

SMANGUS LOOKOUT and KORAW ECOLOGICAL PARK (司馬庫斯觀景臺/KORAW生態公園) Thi gentle trail winds climbs viewing platform overlooking Smangus, a secluded mountain retreat once considered Taiwan's most remote settlement. While many visitors come to admire the village's cherry blossom or it's grove of giant trees, the this forest trail at the other end of the village offers a quieter escape for birdwatchers and nature enthusiasts.

3 months ago

🏞️ A gentle trail leads to the Smangus Lookout and Koraw Ecological Park

"this forest trail at the other end of the village offers a quieter escape for birdwatchers and nature enthusiasts"

taiwantrailsandtales.com/2025/12/06/smangus-looko...

#Taiwan #hiking #Taiwanderful #台灣

0 2 0 0

“Girl” and “Left-handed Girl”: Two Tales of Mothers, Daughters, and Trauma #### by Sebastien Smith #### #### 語言: English Photo Credit: Film Poster #### _Warning: This review discusses domestic abuse and suicide ideation._ #### **FIRST THERE** was _American Girl_ in 2021. Now we have _Left-handed Girl_ , and, naturally, the succinctly titled _Girl_ —two more coming-of-age dramas centred around young women (and the mothers who raise them). But where the former film is about a Taiwanese diasporic family returning from the US, these two new films are purely grounded in Taipei. Shu Qi, director and writer of _Girl_ , is best known for her acting work in the 90s and 00s with Taiwanese auteur Hou Hsiao-hsien (_City of Sadness_ , _Millennium Mambo_). In the Hou-directed _Three Takes_ , Shu’s character says, “Writing is a gentle feeling.” Surely writing about her turbulent upbringing for a directorial debut was anything but gentle; this deeply personal project uncovers the life of a teenage girl growing up in an abusive environment. “I look back at my family of origin,” Shu said ahead of the film’s Hong Kong premiere, ‘In that house, there was domestic violence.’ With that in mind, _Girl_ is an honest but uneven attempt to trace the scars of adolescence. _Girl_ takes us into the head of teenage Lin Hsiao-lee (Bai Xiao-Ying) as she navigates the minefield of home. Her drunken father physically abuses Lin and her mother, and her mother takes things out on Lin. And so, _Girl_ is a character study with a naturalist approach to storytelling; instead of a developing plot, Lin’s arc comes into focus through her hopes and fears. This narrative choice adds depth to the film, but sometimes causes jarring stylistic shifts. Lin’s escapes into nature—crawling through woods and grasslands to escape her home life—are dream-like, as if shot for the fantasy genre. But later, the character’s suicide ideation in those same woods unravels through psycho-horror-inspired Dutch angles and shadows. These scenes are striking, but too much so; their vividness sometimes overwhelms a film that struggles to settle on a cohesive visual language. Even so, the film falls flat when it takes us out of Lin’s head and cuts away to her father’s story. He is granted more narrative space than either the director or the actor knows what to do with. Played by Roy Chiu, he works at a motorcycle garage for his dead father’s brother. Beyond that, the film is not interested in explaining his arc of alcoholism and abuse. Chiu doesn’t have much to work with and plays a bad hand badly: his performance is one-note and exaggerated, often stumbling the fine line between playing drunk and, well, just stumbling. Yet, for all its flaws and tough subject matter, _Girl_ remains a highly watchable effort, thanks to its two female leads, Bai and Joanne Tang Yu-chi. Tang in particular understands the complexity of her role as the mother character — a woman trapped in the dual roles of victim and perpetrator. Shu’s childhood memories in Taipei in the 1980s clearly informed her writing and directing of “Girl”. But for a semi-autobiographical film, it curiously avoids fully establishing a sense of time or place. The film feels set in a hazy, borderless city that could be almost anywhere in pre-smartphone Asia. Was she aiming for something that feels universal and unmoored from any specific location? _Left-handed Girl,_ on the other hand (forgive me), is a true Taipei story. That it was shot entirely on the iPhone is not just a gimmick; it allows the director, Shih-Ching Tsou, to narrate the city through the eyes (and often at the eye levels) of the film’s central characters. Shu-fen (Janel Tsai), a financially and emotionally burned-out mother, is moving her two daughters back to Taipei after her husband ran off. She finds the family a cramped apartment, and she sets up a night market stall. In its first half, _Left-handed Girl_ takes a slice-of-life rhythm similar to _Girl_ , but anecdotes of each character are spliced together. The elder daughter, I-ann (Shih-Yuan Ma), works as a betel nut girl for sleazy customers and an even sleazier boss, while the utterly charming 5-year-old I-jing (Nina Ye) settles into her new home and gets into trouble. The splicing approach never allows you to settle into a scene, but the episodes are too amusing (even darkly funny) to complain about. When her grandfather tells the left-handed I-jing that the left hand only commits evil, she begins a shoplifting spree and ponders cutting off her own hand to absolve herself. See also ### Celebrating a God’s Birthday with a Temple Rave EnglishLife ·December 7, 2020·8 min read A less assured filmmaker might have settled and turned in an episodic project. Indeed, _Girl_ frustrates when it sometimes teases narrative paths it doesn’t take. But Tsou (who co-wrote the film with Sean Baker of _Anora_ fame) intertwines these intergenerational perspectives into something more plot-driven and satisfying. I-jing’s stealing and I-ann’s toxic worklife build momentum for a cathartic third act. There is no performance anything less than great in _Left-handed Girl_ , but Ma in particular takes a star turn as the impulsive and hard-up (but sensitive) I-ann. Meanwhile, Brandon Huang steals scenes as Johnny, a character who emotionally supports the three female leads and forms the film’s compassionate heart. These characters feel familiar within Tsou and Baker’s previous work—I-ann is not unlike a Taiwanese _Anora_ , while Johnny recalls Willem Dafoe’s character in _The Florida Project_. Of course, there is some indebtedness to _Yi Yi_ , another family drama with episodic, multi-generational storytelling. And yet _Left-handed Girl_ never feels like a retread or rip-off. The film’s tight pacing, bright palette, and bold engagement with the darker corners of Taipei society make it a distinctive entry in both Tsou’s body of work and Taiwanese cinema writ large. Beyond exploring girlhood, what really ties _Girl_ and _Left-handed Girl_ together is the subject of intergenerational trauma, and how that trauma runs like a malignant thread through the casts of each film. In _Girl_ , domestic violence is a cyclical motif passed from father to mother to daughter. For _Left-handed Girl_ , it comes in the more subtle—but still damaging—preference for males in conservative families. Shu-fen, the single mother character, is neglected by her parents in favour of her younger brother in ways that leave her and her own family in a precarious state. She is treated like damaged goods, with her own mother telling her, “Women married off once are water poured away.” But, like a cursed inheritance, Shu-fen takes the same attitude towards her own daughter. _Left-handed Girl_ is the better film here, almost to the point it feels unfair to compare the two. Either way, each work gives voice to otherwise neglected female characters and illuminates taboo topics. For Taiwanese cinema, that is a welcome new wave.

4 months ago

🎬 “Girl” and “Left-handed Girl” are two Taiwanese female-centred movies "purely grounded in Taipei"

https://nomanisanis.land/girl-left-handed-girl-review/

#Taiwan #Taipei #movies #Taiwanderful #台灣 #台北

1 2 0 0

4 months ago

🤘🎸 Three Taiwanese metal bands will play at the F:F:F -- Formosa:Finland:Fest in Finland in an example of heavy metal diplomacy.

The band are Crescent Lament (恆月三途), Flesh Juicer (血肉果汁機) and Chthonic (閃靈). Chthonic's lead singer, Freddy Lim, is Taiwan's Representative in Finland […]

7 4 0 0

Kauwan Shrine (九宛祠) View fullsize Today, I’m going to be introducing the ruins of a historic Shinto Shrine on the eastern coast of Taiwan, but I'm going to start out with a bit of a story about my experience getting there. Over the past few years, I have spent a considerable amount of time researching and documenting the locations of Shinto Shrines across Taiwan, and when I travel anywhere in the country, one of the first things I do is check to see if the place I'm headed has shrine ruins nearby. My recent trip to Tainan, for example, coincided with a stop by the recently restored ruins of the Sankenten Sugar Factory Shrine (三崁店社). So, when planning a trip to Hualien, there were a several shrine ruins that I had on my list of places to visit. One of these shrines was the ‘Kauwan Shrine,' located on the stretch of highway between Hualien City and Taroko Gorge. So, having hopped on an early train to Hualien, I got a rental scooter, took my bags to the hotel I would be staying at and then mapped out my route for the day. My plan was to first make a quick stop by the majestic Qingshui Cliffs (清水斷崖) to let my new camera have a taste of their beauty, and then I’d make my way back to town stopping several times along the way. While on the forty-minute ride over to the area, however, disaster struck. View fullsize I had my phone attached to the convenient phone holder device that scooters come with, which are quite useful when using Google Maps. I’ve never really been a fan of these things as I think they’re not very safe, but I didn’t feel like getting lost, so I put my phone on anyway. The problem was that there had been quite a bit of earthquake damage to the region in recent years and the highway over there was absolutely terrible. While driving my phone fell off the holder and it got squashed by a massive truck that was behind me. Stopping on the side of the road, I got off the scooter and went to pick my dead phone off the road, but since I was already quite close to the cliffs, I decided to just try to calm myself down by looking at something beautiful. > **Link** : **Taroko National Park (太魯閣國家公園)** View fullsize Unfortunately that wouldn’t particularly be part of my day, either, as the area where tourists were once able to enjoy spectacular views of the cliffs had been decimated by the earthquakes and consequent landslides that ensued, so my drive out there ended up being a complete waste of time. Fortunately, I have a pretty good memory, so even without having access to GPS, I was able to navigate myself to where the shrine was located. When I arrived, though, I had forgotten where the entrance was located, so it took a few minutes of looking around before I was able to figure it out. The grass was quite high along the path, so I went ahead of my friend to make sure we were going in the right direction to the shrine. Shortly after, when I found the path to the shrine, my friend took a photo of me from behind taking a photo of the shrine gate. I ended up posting that photo to Threads, which is quite popular in Taiwan, and it attracted an insane amount of engagement, with quite a few people commenting that they had no idea places like this actually still exist in Taiwan. Eventually we returned to Hualien, and I took my dead phone to a repair place and in order to save the thousands of photo memories on it, I ended up purchasing a new iPhone, and the great people at the repair center did some phone surgery, and were able to get me back up and running. Despite the inconvenience of my phone dying, I’m actually quite grateful that I have a pretty good memory, and a really good sense of direction, otherwise, I may not have been able to make it to the shrine during this trip, and that would have been unfortunate. Today, I’m going to offer an in-depth introduction to the ruins of the shrine, including information about what still exists today, but before I start, I think its important to offer a bit of information about the community where it’s located, and the history of indigenous shrines like this on Taiwan’s eastern coast, which is a subject that doesn’t often receive much attention. Then I’ll end by offering information regarding how you can visit the shrine. # **The Qowgan Tribe** (克奧灣部落) View fullsize Today, the Kauwan Shrine is located in what is known as **Jingmei Village** (景美村) directly behind **Jingmei Elementary School** (景美國小). Under the jurisdiction of **Xiulin Township** (秀林鄉), the village is divided into two communities, **Jiawan** (加灣) and **Sanzhan** (三棧), and has a population of approximately 2000 people. The community is flanked by the Central Mountain Range’s **Jialiwan Mountain** (加禮宛山) with the Pacific Ocean on the other side. What that doesn’t particularly tell you, though, is that the residents of these communities are predominately members of the **Truku Indigenous Tribe** (太魯閣族), and although most of them speak Mandarin today, you’ll find that many people in the community prefer to speak the Truku language. The Truku, who are also known as the ‘Taroko People’ are scattered throughout the mountainous areas of Hualien, and as of 2020, there were about 33,000 in total. The Truku are thought to have arrived in boats sometime during the pre-historic period from Austronesia, initially settling in the plains area between Taichung and Tainan. Their time in that area, though, wouldn’t particularly last that long as they were constantly being pushed further inland to the mountains by the plains indigenous people, who had arrived far earlier than they did. View fullsize Their journey into the mountains started by settling near **Nantou** (南投) in central Taiwan, and then as generations passed they continued to migrate further into inland all the way to what is today **Ren’ai Township** (仁愛鄉) in Nantou County, close to what is better known today as **Qingjing Farm** (清境農場) and **Hehuan Mountain**(合歡山). As the community continued to grow, the Truku pushed further east into the mountains, forming new settlements near **Qilai** (奇萊山) and **Nenggao** (能高山) Mountains. Then, in about the 18th century, the Truku made it as far as the lower river bank areas of Hualien. Currently recognized by the Republic of China’s government as one of Taiwan’s sixteen indigenous groups, modern anthropologists believe that the **Atayal** (泰雅族), **Seediq** (賽德克族) and **Truku** (太魯閣族) people have a common origin, but the Truku branched off from the other groups in about the sixteenth century, and as they moved further east and their communities became more isolated from the other groups, their cultural identity and linguistics evolved into a completely independent ethnic group. > **Link** : Taiwanese indigenous peoples | 臺灣原住民族 (Wiki) Truku women during the Japanese era Constantly on the move, for the safety of their communities, the Truku at first had to deal with other tribes, but later, when they came into contact with the Dutch, the Qing, and the Japanese, they experienced a tremendous amount of hardship, discrimination and repression. Sadly, that is something that continues to today as they (as well as other indigenous groups) constantly face economic and social inequality, substandard educational opportunities and high rates of unemployment. In recent years, though, efforts have been made to revive traditional cultural practices and preserve indigenous languages in addition to actively seeking for a higher degree of political self-determination and control over the economic development of their communities. If you’re interested, click the dropdown box to see a list of the communities where the Truku people are currently located in Hualien and Nantou Counties: * # Truku Tribes **Xiulin Village** (秀林鄉） * **Qowgan Tribe** (克奧灣部落) - Jiawan Township (加灣) * **Kulu Tribe** (固祿部落) - Minzhi Township (民治) * **Pratan Tribe** (布拉旦部落) - Sanzhan Township (三棧) * **Kdusan Tribe** (格督尚部落) - Jiamin Township (佳民) * **Dowmung Tribe** (銅門部落) - Tongmen Township (銅門） * **Tkijig Tribe** (得吉利部落) - Chongde Village (崇德) * **Branaw Tribe** (布拉瑙部落) - Chongguang Village (重光) * **Gukut Tribe** (吾谷子部落) - Hezhong Village (和中) * **Qnragan Tribe** (卡那岸部落) - Heren Village (和仁) * **Bsngan Tribe** (玻士岸部落) - Fushi Village (富世) * **Tpugu Tribe** (陶樸閣部落) - Minyou Village (民有） * **Bsuring Tribe** (帛士林部落) - Xiulin Village (秀林) * **Pajiq Tribe** (水源部落) - Shuiyuan Village (水源) * **Ibuh Tribe** (依柏合部落) - Rongshu Village (榕樹) * **Tmunan Tribe** (文蘭部落) - Wenlan Village (銅文蘭) * **Myawan Tribe** (米亞丸部落) - Miyawan Village (米亞丸) * **Knlibu Tribe** (克尼布部落) - Heping Village (和平） * **Dowras Tribe** (道拉斯部落) - Minxiang Village (民享) **Ji-an Village** (吉安鄉) * **Alang-kiyumi Tribe** (福興部落) - Fuxing Village (福興村) **Wanrong Township** (萬榮鄉) * **Murisaka Tribe** (摩里沙卡部落) - Wanrong Village (萬榮村) * **Maribasi Tribe**(馬理巴西部落) - Mingli Village (明利村) * **Matanki Tribe** (馬太鞍部落) - Mingli Village (明利村) * **Thgahan Tribe** (大加汗部落) - Mingli Village (明利村) * **Ihownang Tribe** (紅葉部落) - Hongye Village (紅葉) * **Ciyakang Tribe** (支亞幹部落) - Xilin Village (西林村) * **Gbayang Tribe** (新白楊部落) - Jianqing Village (見晴村) **Zhuoxi Township** (卓溪鄉) * **Swasal Tribe** (古村部落) - Lishan Village (立山村) View fullsize What’s important to remember about the Qowgan Tribe, is that the land where the Jiawan community is located today, isn’t actually where the tribe had originally settled. The community was forced upon them by the Japanese, who in order to better control the comings and goings of the Truku, made them move to the lower plains area in the late nineteenth century. Tensions between the Truku and the Japanese started as early as 1896, just a year after the Japanese took control of Taiwan. Rising anger against Japanese rule would eventually result in Truku chief, Haruq Nawi, leading a few dozen of his warriors down the mountain into the area we know as ‘**Xincheng** ’ (新城) today, murdering thirteen Japanese soldiers, and resulting in what would become known as the Shinjo Incident (新城事件 / しんじょうじけん). The Truku, who wanted to protect their communities and their ancestral hunting grounds took offense to the Japanese encroaching on their land, as they sought to exploit the area’s natural resources. Between 1896 and 1914, a number of conflicts between the two sides, known today as the Truku Wars (太魯閣戰爭) that saw the Japanese mobilize as many as 20,000 members of the armed forces. At the time, the Japanese estimated that the number of Truku was about 15,000 in total, with only a third of the population being able to take part in the war. What made things difficult for the Truku, was that their communities were isolated by natural barriers such as rivers, mountains, and the coastline, making coordination difficult. Only about 2000 warriors were able to show up for battle, and the overwhelming Japanese forces, equipped with modern weaponry dispatched them quite easily. In the aftermath of the battle, the Japanese confiscated the Truku’s weapons, discouraged their traditional hunting and farming lifestyles, introduced a network of police outposts within remote mountain regions, and took full control of their communities in an attempt to undermine their collective social structure, culture and beliefs. Similarly, in some cases, entire communities, such as the Qowgan, were forcibly migrated to areas in the lower plains near what is today **Xincheng** (新城) and the outer-Taroko area, which would have made any future violent incidents more difficult. > **Link** : Taroko people | 太魯閣族 **中文** | タロコ族 **日文** (Wiki) View fullsize Originally living near the eastern side on the **Jialiwan Mountain’s Northern Face** (加禮宛山北峰), in 1917 (大正9年), the Japanese forced the tribe to migrate to a new settlement a few kilometers north, where they’ve lived ever since. Once they migrated, the Japanese took to equipping the village with amenities that would aid in the tribe’s economic development, constructing a school, community center, etc. They would also assist the tribe with its agricultural production, promoting certain types of crops that the tribe could use to earn money. Interestingly, when you look at maps from the Japanese era, the tribe is clearly marked as the ‘**Kauwan Tribe** ’ (カウワン社), but when the Japanese era came to an end, the village was renamed by the Nationalists as ‘**Jingmei Village** ’ (景美村), a name that remains in use today, and not particularly representative of the community who lives there. The Truku Indigenous group wouldn’t be officially recognized by the Republic of China’s government until 2004, and it would then take another eight years before the Qowgan would receive official recognition. Sadly, despite the treatment the Indigenous people suffered during the Japanese era, it would be something that continued for the next half century, and in some ways continues to this day. This is one of the reasons why its so important for people to support Taiwan’s indigenous people, and making a concerted effort to learn about their history, culture, and the issues they face on a day-to-day basis. **Shrines in Hualien’s Indigenous Settlements** View fullsize Prior to the arrival of the Japanese in Taiwan, the area we know as Hualien today was referred to as, ‘**Kilai** ’ (奇萊), by the local indigenous people. For much of Taiwan’s modern history, not much effort was put into settling the area, especially during the period of Qing rule from 1683 to 1895, but as soon as the Japanese arrived, the name was swiftly changed to ‘**Karenko** ’ (花蓮港), which more or less translates to ‘Lotus Flower Port’. In most cases, the Japanese didn’t change the names of Taiwan’s towns and settlements, but for Hualien, if the original name had of been directly transliterated into Japanese, it would sound a little like the word for ‘ _disgusting_ ’ (嫌い / _kirai_), and if you’ve ever been to Hualien, you’re well-aware that its one of the most beautiful places in Taiwan. Using a similarly sounding name in Japanese, the name was changed to ‘**Karenko’** (花蓮港 / かれんこう), which was later shorted to ‘**Karen** ’ (花蓮), and that’s the name that has been used ever since. From the Japanese era until now, the administrative divisions of **‘Karenko Prefecture** ’ (花蓮港廳) haven’t changed much, so what you see on a map of ‘**Hualien County** ’ (花蓮縣) today is almost exactly the same as it would have been in the early 20th century. The Prefecture was divided up into Karenko City, and then three counties, each of which were home to what were officially classified as ‘**Indigenous Villages** ’ (蕃地 / ばんち). As of 1937, these administrative divisions were officially: 1. **Karenko City** (花蓮港市 / かれんこうし) 2. **Karenko County** (花蓮郡 / かれんぐん) 3. **Horin County** (鳳林郡 / ほうりんぐん) 4. **Tamazato County** (玉里郡 / たまざとぐん) View fullsize Within each of these administrative districts, there were towns and **immigrant villages** (移民村), but the vast majority of the space was referred to as indigenous spaces. What the literature doesn’t actually tell you, though, is that the indigenous areas were a large collection of tribal communities that had been inhabited by the area’s indigenous people for thousands of years. If I just use ‘**Karenko County** ’ (花蓮郡) as an example, the space reserved for development by the government was about 300 square kilometers, while the space reserved for the indigenous communities on the other hand, which was mostly in the mountains, encompassed 1643 square kilometers. Thus, due to the number of indigenous communities in the prefecture, the Japanese placed considerable importance on what they considered to be ‘civilizing’ the natives, which came in ways that were both helpful and harmful to the local communities. On the one hand, the Japanese brought modern medicine, education, and development, but on the other hand, these things often came with violence, and at the expense of the individual cultures and languages in these communities as they were forcibly assimilated into becoming citizens of the Japanese empire. View fullsize For the Indigenous Peoples of Taiwan, Japanese attempts at forcible assimilation came quite early, however, by the mid-1930s, when the ‘Kominka policy’ (皇民化運動) officially came into effect, people all over Taiwan were required to transform themselves into loyal subjects of the emperor by speaking the language, changing their names, joining the military, and praying at shrines. There had already been several large Shinto Shrines constructed across Taiwan, but when the ‘Japanization’ policy came into effect, the colonial government started constructing them in every community on the island. This was also the case for indigenous communities, which were required to have small shrines constructed in their towns, most often in spaces near local community centers of the local police precinct. Like the Kauwan Shrine, Hualien was home to dozens of these shrines within Indigenous communities. Not much information has been collected about them in English, so here’s a list of them in alphabetical order with the name of the shrine, and the date it was established if that information is available: * # Indigenous Shrines in Hualien 1. **Busin Shrine** (武士林祠 / ぶすりんやしろ) 2. **Ceroh Shrine** (織羅社) - 1931 3. **Ciyakang Shrine** (知亞干遙拜所) 4. **Domon Shrine** (銅門祠／どうもんやしろ) - 1938 5. **Fata'an Shrine** (馬太鞍遙拜所) - 1929 6. **Fujioka Shrine** (富世岡祠) 7. **Hotokesan Shrine** (埃卡托山祠 / ほとけさんほこら) 8. **Kawan Shrine** (九宛祠 / かうわんやしろ) - 1938 9. **Kiwit Shrine** (奇密祠) 10. **Kolado't Shrine** (姑律祠) 11. **Makotaay Shrine** (大港口社) 12. **Mizuho Shrine**(瑞穗祠) - 1931 13. **Natauran Shrine** (荳蘭社) 14. **Sakuma Shrine** (佐久間神社 / さくまじんじゃ) - 1923 15. **Shinsha Shrine** (新社祠) 16. **Shirakawa Shrine** (白川神社) - 1933 17. **Skadan Shrine** (砂卡礑神社) 18. **Tafalong Shrine** (太巴塱祠) - 1937 19. **Tagahan Shrine** (大加汗祠 / タカハン祠) - 1935 20. **Takasago Shrine**(高砂社 / たかさごじゃ) - 1931 21. **Taihei Shrine** (太平祠) - 1935 22. **Takili Shrine** (德其黎祠 / タツキリ祠) 23. **Yayung Shrine** (三棧祠 / サンサン祠) This list is likely very much incomplete, and as I continue to find more of these shrines, I’ll update the information. What’s important to keep in mind, though, is that despite what seems like a large number of these indigenous shrines, very few remnants actually remain. The Kauwan Shrine that I’m writing about today is the most complete, but there are areas where these shrines once existed where you can still find evidence of what was once there. # **Kauwan Shrine** (卡烏灣祠 / かうわんやしろ) View fullsize In order to introduce this historic shrine, the first thing I have to do is clear up a bit of confusion about its name. I’ve spent years researching these things, so for me, its easy to understand what’s going on, but for others, there’s likely a considerable amount of confusion regarding the shrine’s name, and whether or not its actually the shrine that they’re looking for. The problem is entirely a linguistic one, and its something that confuses not just foreigners, but locals alike. To explain, I have to first give some credit to Japanese anthropologists, because they actually did an exceptional job during their time here in Taiwan studying Taiwan’s indigenous tribes. Don’t get me wrong, the Japanese were guilty of atrocities against Taiwan’s native peoples, but in anthropological terms, the work that they did during their half century of colonial rule to better understand indigenous culture and language, formed the basis for much of the modern work that continues to be done today. As noted above, the shrine was constructed within the space controlled by the ‘**Qowgan** ’ people, which is translated into Mandarin today as ‘ke-ao-wan’ (克奧灣部落). Today, its better to use the romanized ‘Qowgan’ to refer to the tribe, but during the Japanese era, nothing had really been recorded about them, so the Japanese used ‘**Kauwan** ’ (カウワン / かうわん) to identify the tribe. View fullsize Part of the problem with the current naming of the shrine is that Mandarin doesn’t share phonetics that sound similar to the names used in the Truku aboriginal languages. In written Japanese, though, there is **Kanji** (漢字 / かんじ), **Hiragana** (平仮名 / ひらがな), and **Katakana** (片仮名 / カタカナ), each of which is generally used for different purposes. In most cases, many of the cities, towns, counties, villages, etc. in Taiwan already had what was the equivalent of Kanji (Chinese characters) prior to the arrival of the Japanese. When those names were converted into Japanese, it was common to write them using either Kanji or Hiragana, however, indigenous villages were far more difficult to make use of either Kanji or Hiragana to transliterate their names into Japanese - so, in most cases, (there are exceptions) the Japanese used Katakana to write out the names of these areas. This is why you can find the following names for the shrine: 1. **Kauwan Shrine**(九宛祠) -**** jiu wan shrine 2. **Kauwan Shrine**(卡烏灣祠) -**** qia wu wan shrine 3. **Kauwan Shrine** (加灣祠) -**** jia wan shrine 4. **Kauwan Shrine**(加灣神社)**** jia wan shrine The few English-language resources that you’ll find about the shrine use a relatively similar romanized spelling, but where it becomes confusing is with the variations of Chinese characters that are used. This probably isn’t much of a big deal for most foreign readers, but for people like me who are researching its history, the lack of consistency is a bit annoying. Nevertheless, based off of the Katakana and Hiragana that were used during the Japanese era, the shrine’s original name in Romanized Japanese, would have been ‘**Kauwan Shrine** ’ (カウワン祠 / かうわんやしろ). Personally, though, I prefer to just refer use ‘Qowgan Shrine’ because that’s the actual name of the community, but for consistency purposes, I’ll leave it as is. Finally, another thing regarding the name of the shrine, is probably something that most people won’t actually notice - In most cases, Taiwan’s shrines were classified using the titles ‘**jinja** ’ (神社 / じんじゃ) or ‘**sha** ’ (社 / じゃ), with the first being used for larger shrines, and the latter used for smaller shrines like this one. That being said, the Kanji for ‘**sha** ’ (社) just so happens to also be the same one that was used to identify tribal communities at the time, similar to the ‘**bu luo** ’ (部落) used today. So, to avoid confusion, shrines that were set up in Indigenous communities, like this one, instead used the designation, ‘**shi** ’ (祠 /し), another character used to identify a smaller shrine. Now, lets move onto the history of the shrine. According to a report on April 6th, 1934 (昭和9年) in the Taiwan Daily News (臺灣日日新報 / たいわんにちにちしんぽう), one of the Qowgan’s leaders, ‘Piwasaowan’ (ピワサオワダン) had petitioned for a shrine to be constructed in the community, based on the fact that neighboring communities such as **Busin** (武士林), **Hotokesan** (埃卡多散), **Yayung** (三棧), etc. already had one in their communities. Despite the petition, it would take another few years for the construction of a shrine in Qowgan to be formally approved by the government. Information is scarce, but it seems like assistance with the application process was probably expedited with the help of the local police outpost, and army recruitment services. In both cases, its likely that the establishment of a shrine was mutually beneficial in that having a shrine in your community could ensure a certain level of official attention from the Colonial Government, and for the Japanese, the Indigenous people made for excellent members of the Armed Forces, known as the **Takasago Volunteers** (高砂義勇隊**/** たかさごぎゆうたい), and recruitment was often part of a shrine’s functions. View fullsize The Qowgan Shrine was officially established on **March 9th, 1938** (昭和13年), shortly after the Imperialization Movement was launched (I’ll talk more about that later), requiring a shrine to be constructed within all of Taiwan’s cities, towns, villages and tribal communities. The Qowgan Shrine was ultimately one of a large number of Indigenous Shrines that were established shortly after the 1937 policy came into effect, with the eastern coast of Taiwan becoming a major focal point for the establishment of these smaller shrines. Japanese control of Taiwan would ultimately only last for another seven years after the shrine was established, but during its short lifespan, the shrine became a focal point of the community, with various celebrations on the annual calendar held there. The shrine’s annual **matsuri festival** (祭り) was held on October 9th, coinciding with the typical Autumn Festival celebrations. During these events, the shrine would have been quite lively with sumo competitions, dance performances, and religious rituals, with the shrine’s **mikoshi** (神輿 / みこし) being carried through the community. One of the great things about the shrine’s design is that it features a large flat space on the side of the mountain where large events could be held. In terms of what was constructed there, it was no where close to the size of, let’s say, the Karenko Shrine (花蓮港神社), but for the community that it served, the shrine would have been quite lively throughout the year, as people were encouraged to visit the shrine regularly, and important community events, including weddings, would have been held on a regular basis. In a recent interview coinciding with the restoration of the shrine, an 83 year old member of the community remarked that his only recollection of the shrine from his youth was the sight of a Shinto Priest standing near the shrine gate in his flowing white robes and black hat, which absolutely terrified him - which just goes to show that even for children born well into the Japanese-era, most of these things were still quite foreign to them. As I mentioned earlier, though, the shrine was only officially used for about seven years prior to the end of the Second World War. When the Nationalists took control of Taiwan in the aftermath, most of Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines were demolished or repurposed, but in some cases, especially for these remote mountainous community shrines, they were simply abandoned, with nature completely consuming them. In many areas along the east coast, if you know the original location of one of these shrines, it’s possible to find evidence of their existence, but few of them are as complete as the Qowgan Shrine. View fullsize In 2011, the shrine was recognized under the **Cultural Heritage Preservation Act** (文化資產保存法) for its **historic significance** (歷史建築), and in the years since, the local community has taken the initiative to preserve the ruins, excavating the shrine by hand with a team of volunteers. Thanks to the elderly members of the community, who shared their memories of the the shrine, the team of volunteers has worked hard to ‘ _recreate the sacredness and tranquility that used to encompass the shrine_ ’ and hopes that their restoration efforts can bring about a renewed recognition of the history between the Indigenous community and the Japanese. > **Link** : Qowgan Shrine to be restored (Taipei Times) Today, the fruits of their labor can be enjoyed as the ruins of the shrine remain in relatively great shape, and you’re able to experience the basic layout of the shrine, despite most of what once existed on the site lost to history. # **Kami Worshipped at the Kauwan Shrine** As mentioned above, the shrines that were constructed in Taiwan’s Indigenous Villages were quite generic in that their architectural design, and the kami who were chosen to be enshrined within were more or less the same. However, this also remains true for most of Taiwan’s larger shrines as well as the Japanese were initially quite quite selective with the kami they chose to promote here in Taiwan. To better facilitate the (forced) transition, the authorities essentially chose deities, who the people of Taiwan could relate to, given that within Taiwanese folk religion, you’ll also find similar gods. Likewise, given the tropical nature of Taiwan’s environment, it’s role within the greater Japanese empire was meant to ensure food stability, especially since agricultural output on the mainland had been in decline due to the push for industrialization. The colonial government placed considerable emphasis on Taiwan’s agricultural and natural resources, and for much of the half century of Japanese rule, they offered massive incentives for farmers to come to the island to contribute. View fullsize In few places was this more significant than on the east coast in Hualien and Taitung, where several agricultural immigrant settlements were set up to ensure the stability of the empire’s rice, vegetable and fruit production. The collection of kami enshrined within the Kauwan Shrine were commonly found within the hundreds of shrines constructed around Taiwan, but since this was a small indigenous shrine, the four kami that were chosen were also enshrined within the dozens of other indigenous shrines in the Hualien area: * # Kami Worshipped at the Kauwan Shrine **The Three Deities of Cultivation** (開拓三神 / かいたくさんじん) The Three Deities of Cultivation, consist of three figures known for their skills with regard to nation-building, farming, business and medicine. 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) 2. _Okuninushi no Mikoto_ (大名牟遲大神 / おおなむちのかみ) 3. _Sukunabikona no Mikoto_ (少彥名大神 / すくなひこなのかみ) While these deities are also quite common among 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. 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 being pushed on the local people in more ways than one. Likewise, considering the economy at the time was largely agricultural-based, it was important that the gods enshrined reflected that aspect of life. **Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa** (北白川宮能久親王) Prince Yoshihisa, a western educated Major-General in the Japanese Imperial Army, and a member of the Japanese imperial family 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), giving him the dubious honor of being the first member of the Japanese royal family to pass away while outside of Japan in more than nine hundred years, in addition to being the first to die in war. Shortly after his death he was elevated to the status of a ‘kami’ under state Shinto and was given the name “Kitashirakawa no Miya Yoshihisa-shinno no Mikoto“, and subsequently became one of the most important patron deities here in Taiwan, as well as being enshrined at the **Yasukuni Shrine** (靖國神社) in Tokyo. Of the more than four-hundred shrines constructed around Taiwan during the Japanese-era, its safe to say that Prince Yoshihisa was enshrined within at least ninety percent of them, making him one of the most prolific kami in Taiwan. **Link** : _Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa_ (Wiki) # **Architectural Design** So, the big question is, what actually remains at the shrine today? The best answer is that the shrine itself is long gone, but the skeleton and the layout of the shrine is still clearly visible, if you know what you’re looking for. So, let me introduce the objects that you should take note of, if you ever plan a visit to the shrine. **The Visiting Path** (參道 / さんどう) View fullsize The ‘Visiting Path’ is an integral part of any Shinto Shrine, known in Japanese as the “** _sando_** ” (參道 / さんどう), the ‘path’ is essentially just a route that leads visitors from the entrance to where the shrine is located. Even though these paths serve a functional purpose, they are also quite symbolic in that they are also the ‘route' you take on the road to spiritual purification. If you weren’t already aware, the term ’Shinto’ is literally translated as the “** _Pathway to the Gods_** ” (神道), so the fact that shrines have a physical pathway, which leads 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 tends to vary based on the size of the shrine, but it’s important to remember that the path is only complete when you take into consideration some of the objects along the way. View fullsize Typically, a Visiting Path is home to **stone lanterns** (石燈籠 / しゃむしょ), which are meant to ensure that visitors can always find their way to the shrine. Likewise, there should be at least one or two **shrine gates** (鳥居 / とりい), which act as entrances to the shrine’s sacred space, and are protected by **Stone Guardians** (狛犬 / こまいぬ). The path itself could be constructed with cement, or it could also be a bit rustic with stone steps. In this case, the shrine was originally fitted with cement steps that lined the Visiting Path, however, the cement is in pretty rough shape, and most of what you can see today are the stones that were once covered in cement that make their way up the hill. View fullsize What's left of one of the shrine’s original lanterns. What you have to keep in mind about the Visiting Path, though, is that in the years since the shrine was constructed, an Elementary School was constructed in the middle. As you’re traveling up the hill to the school, you can see a set of steps where the Visiting Path originally started, with a pair of trees on either side that were planted to celebrate the establishment of the shrine. The start of the path crosses a water canal, another project that was constructed during the Japanese era, to provide fresh water to the community and its farms. Unfortunately, of the objects mentioned above, the shrine’s stone lanterns are no longer there, and the same goes for the stone guardians that once stood guard. In both cases, it doesn’t necessarily mean that these objects were destroyed as it’s possible that they may have been moved elsewhere. The good news, however, is that the Shrine Gate is still standing beautifully at the top of the Visiting Path. View fullsize While walking up the hill along the Visiting Path, if you pay close attention, you’ll discover that there are random cement objects on the sides. These were originally **Banner Poles** (五座旗幟台), which were likely used for cloth ‘**nobori banners** ’ (幟 /**** のぼり) that would have featured the shrine’s name, and would blow in the wind. The Shrine Gate is officially known in Japanese as a ‘**Shinmei Torii** ’ (神明鳥居 / しんめいとりい), one of the oldest, and also the most common styles of shrine gates. Originating at one of Japan’s oldest shrines, the **Ise Grand Shrine** (伊勢神宮), in this style of gate, there is no curvature to any of the pieces and features two straight horizontal poles, with the top lintel extending beyond the vertical poles, while the lower lintel connects to assist with the stabilization of the gate. Amazingly, given the number of devastating earthquakes in Hualien in the ninety years since the shrine was constructed, its quite amazing that the shrine remains in such great shape, given the lack of care its received over that period of time. View fullsize Once you’ve passed through the gate, you’ll have reached a large, empty plateau on the hill where the shrine is located directly ahead of you. The flat section of the Visiting Path, which also would have been constructed with cement doesn’t seem to exist any longer. Another essential object that you’ll typically come across while traversing the Visiting Path is the **Purification Fountain** (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ), which is used by visitors to cleanse themselves prior to entering the shrine by performing a purification ritual. The fountain still exists, but its currently on school grounds, and despite wanting to get a photo of it, I respected the school’s wishes and didn’t go onto the school grounds during my visit. Purification Fountains at Shinto Shrines come in all shapes and sizes, but from what I’ve seen, this one wasn’t a very big one. Similar in design to the fountain at the Sankanten Shrine (三崁店社) in Tainan, it was essentially just a large rock that had a pool carved in the middle that had fresh water pumped into it. **The Main Hall** (本殿 / ほんでん) View fullsize The **Main Hall** , otherwise known as the “** _honden_** ” (本殿/ほんでん) is the most sacred part of any Shinto Shrine, and is the home of the kami. For larger shrines, there is usually a **Hall of Worship** (拜殿 / はいでん) in front, where rituals are performed and worshippers pray. This shrine, however was much smaller than a typical shrine, and was home to just a single shrine building. What you’ll want to keep in mind about the Main Hall, in its current state are its ‘layers’, which is something that is (probably) more noticeable today as a ‘ruin’ than it would have been during its short time as a shrine. What do I mean when I refer to the layers? Well, even though the shrine was constructed on the side of the mountain, the land was crafted so that visitors would have to climb a hill on the Visiting Path, and then once you arrived at the sacred area of the shrine, you would once again have to climb another set of stairs to another flat area, and then the shrine itself was once again elevated above that section. View fullsize To achieve this, the people in charge of constructing the shrine collected a large amount of rocks to first form a flat wall, and then more rocks for the shrine’s pedestal. Walls like this, known in Japanese as ‘**ishigaki**’ (石垣積 / いしがきつみ), are common aspects of Shinto Shrine construction, but you’ll also see this method used for castles, Buddhist temples, etc. Basically known as ‘dry stacking’ in English, those in charge of the construction of the shrine collected stones and then stacked them together using clay or mortar. The clever thing about this method of stacking, at least when it comes to shrines, is that there is a certain level of curvature to the way these layers are stacked, and you’ll be able to see that on display if you visit the shrine. With that in mind, if you’re looking directly at the shrine after just passing through the gate, you’ll notice that in the center of the ‘ishigaki’ wall, there is a set of cement stairs that allows visitors to climb to the worship area of the shrine, and at the top of those stairs, there’s a flat section of land, and then another set of stairs to where the shrine would have been located. View fullsize When you’ve climbed all the stairs and you’re standing in front of where the shrine would have once been located, you might see some pieces of cement scattered and lying on the ground. These were part of the **shrine fence** (玉垣 / たまがき), which used to surround the pedestal on all four sides. All that remains today of the shrine is something that is known as a ‘**kidan** ’ (基壇 / きだん). The kidan is essentially just a flat cement pedestal that was elevated off of the ground on a stone base. The purpose of the kidan was essentially to ensure that the shrine was stabilized, but could also withstand the power of the earthquakes that are so frequent in the area. The size of the kidan, however, isn’t an indication of how large the original shrine would have been, though, as in these cases, they are typically much larger than the shrine. View fullsize If you go as far as to stand on the kidan, you’ll notice that there are indentations in the cement where the shrine would have originally existed, with the sections that would have originally stabilized it still visible. There is a large square-shaped indentation in the rear, which would have been where the shrine was location, with another indentation in the front that would have connected to the set of stairs on the stone base. To the rear of the square-shaped indentation, there are two pieces of cement that protrude from the kidan, which is safe to assume was once used as a base for pillars that would have helped to stabilize the rear-part of the shrine. First Generation Taito Shrine (第一代台東神社) Unfortunately, there aren’t any historic photos of the original shrine, so its difficult to offer much information about its architectural design, however, taking into consideration that most of these indigenous shrines were constructed relatively similarly, I can offer a bit of a ‘guestimation’ of how it would have originally appeared. To help readers better understand, though, the historic photo of the **First Generation Taito Shrine** (第一代台東神社) above should help a bit, if you take a look at the rear portion of the shrine, which would have been somewhat similar in design. Despite not very much remaining from the shrine, the shape of the indentations on the ‘kidan’ and the design of the shrine gate, mentioned above, it’s safe to say that the shrine was very likely designed in the ‘**shinmei** ' (神明造 / しんめいづくり) style of architectural design, which actually tells us a lot. View fullsize ‘Shinmei' is a style of design that is thought to be one of the earliest types of architectural designs used for Shinto Shrines, and is most commonly associated with the design of the **Ise Grand Shrine** (伊勢神宮 / いせじんぐう), arguably the most important Shinto Shrine in Japan. The ‘shinmei’ style is characterized by its simplicity and antiquity, and the way they are elevated is thought to imitate the design of Japan’s early rice granaries. > **Link** : Shinmei-zukuri | 神明造 **中文** | 神明造 **日文** (Wiki) View fullsize In this style of design, the buildings tend to have a rectangular-shaped base, known as a ‘**moya** ’ (母屋 / もや), which is surrounded by a ‘**hisashi** ’ (廂) veranda on all four sides. However, in the case of this shrine, it was very likely square-shaped, instead of being rectangular as it was uncommon for smaller shrines to have an extended length, unless there were a large number of kami enshrined within. In the front, there would have been a narrow set of stairs in the center that led to the front door of the shrine, where the repository of the kami would have been placed. However, unlike in other styles of Japanese design, you wouldn’t have found pillars on the exterior of the building, which are typically there to support the weight of the roof. In most cases, shinmei-style buildings utilize the asymmetrical ‘**kirizuma** ’ (切妻屋根 / きりづまやね) style of gabled roof design. Kirizuma-style roofs are basically V-shaped roofs that cover the building, but also extend far beyond the base both in the front and the rear, as shown in the illustration above. View fullsize Unfortunately, the best I can do is theorize about the shrine’s original design based off of what currently exists on-site. The diagrams above should offer a pretty good idea of how the shrine would have originally appeared, but like most of the Shinto Shrines that were constructed around Taiwan during the Japanese era, not much of the original shrine remains in place today. That being said, if you find yourself in Hualien with a bit of extra time, I recommend a visit to the ‘**Taiwan Ocean Minerals Museum** ’ (台灣海礦館), which is located on the site of the Japanese era ‘**Nippon Aluminum Corporation Hualien Port Plant** ’ (日本鋁業株式會社花蓮港工場) where the factory’s historic Shinto Shrine has recently been faithfully reconstructed, and is designed quite similarly to how this shrine would have originally appeared! # **Getting There** > **Address** : #112 Jingmei Village, Xiulin, Hualien County (花蓮縣景美村加灣112號) > > **GPS** : 24.082582, 121.606628 Located on the mountain to the rear of **Jingmei Elementary School**(景美國小) in **Xiulin Village** (秀林鄉), getting to the shrine is actually quite simple if you have your own means of transportation. If you’re traveling on a weekend when schools not in session, there is a large parking lot where you can park your car or scooter while you’re visiting the shrine. The village is actually really small, and there aren’t many people around, other than some families exercising on the school’s playground. They are pretty adamant, though, that they don’t want random tourists wandering around the school grounds, so when you visit, make sure to keep that in mind. When you park in the parking lot, you’ll notice a cement wall that is set up against the mountain to protect the school from landslides. To get to the shrine, you need to walk around to the entrance of the parking lot where you’ll see a bush-like tree with a sign on it. The sign points in the direction of the shrine, and you’ll see a path that has been worn down from people walking it. You’ll need to walk up the hill, making your way across the clearing between the cement wall and the trees and you’ll eventually find yourself on the shrine’s Visiting Path. From there, its only about a two-three minute walk to the shrine. If you plan on visiting, I can’t recommend enough that you wear proper footwear for walking in tall grass, and make sure that you bring mosquito repellent, because they’re an extremely unfriendly bunch in that part of Taiwan. View fullsize **Public Transportation** While not particularly convenient, there are public transportation options available if you find yourself in the Hualien area and want to visit the ruins of the Kauwan Shrine. There are number of bus routes that run up the coastal highway between Hualien City and Taroko that you’ll be able to hop on, but the frequency of their arrival is probably one of the main reasons why I don’t particularly recommend this option. There’s not much in the area near the the bus stop, so if you end up having to wait a while, especially when it’s really hot, it might ruin your experience. Nevertheless, there are the following bus options that you can make use of: > **Bus Routes** : #1129, #1132, #1133, #1136, #1141 Taiwanese websites are notorious for suddenly disappearing, so if any of the links provided above for the bus routes aren’t working, you can search them in the Hualien Public Transportation Website, which has an English version available for tourists. > **Link** : Hualien Public Transportation Website - English | 中文 To get to the shrine, you’ll have to get off at the ‘**Jiawan** ’ (加灣) bus stop, and from there walk up the hill toward the mountains for about ten minutes. You’ll first have to cross the train tracks, so you’ll want to be careful in case there are any trains passing by. From there, you’ll just continue up the hill until you reach **Jingmei Elementary School** (景美國小) and then follow the directions above to get to the shrine. View fullsize My excursion out of Hualien City to visit this shrine ended up being an eventful (and expensive) one, but the ruins of this historic shrine are quite beautiful, and my visit coincided with some pretty great weather, so the light was quite nice. Once I got back up and running with my phone, I posted that photo to social media, and things went a bit crazy with the amount of people interacting with the photo, and the amazement that places like this actually still exist in Taiwan. Yes, Taiwan has a number of popular tourist destinations that everyone tends to be aware of, but there are also a treasure trove of hidden, but absolutely places to visit in this country. Even though I eventually had to turn notifications on my (new) phone off, I was quite pleased with the fact that I was able to introduce a small piece of Taiwan’s history to thousands of people who had no idea of its existence. It doesn’t take much effort to discover Taiwan’s hidden treasures, and that’s part of what I’ve always aimed to do with this website! * * * # **References** 1. 九宛祠 (Wiki) 2. 秀林加灣神社殘蹟 (花蓮縣文化局) 3. 秀林加灣神社殘蹟 (國家文化記憶庫) 4. Karenko Prefecture | 花蓮港廳中文 | 花蓮港庁日文 (Wiki) 5. 花蓮郡 | 蕃地 (花蓮郡) (Wiki) 6. Xiulin | 秀林鄉 | 景美村 (Wiki) 7. Shinto in Taiwan | 臺灣神道教 (Wiki) 8. List of Shinto shrines in Taiwan | 台灣神社列表 **中文** | 台湾の神社 **日文** (Wiki) 9. Taiwan under Japanese rule | 台灣日治時期 **中文** | 日本統治時代の台湾 **日文** (Wiki) 10. Political divisions of Taiwan (1895–1945) | 臺灣日治時期行政區劃 (Wiki) 11. Taiwan Indigenous People’s Portal (臺灣原住民原資網) 12. 克奧灣部落／Qowgan (國家文化記憶庫) 13. Qowgan 克奧灣部落 (原住民民族事典) 14. Qowgan Shrine to be restored (Taipei Times) 15. 全台神社地圖 (地球上的火星人) 16. Traces of Shintoism in eastern and southern Taiwan (Crook, Steven) 17. 花蓮地區的日本神社 (BOX Notebook) 18. 臺灣神社列表 (地球上的火星人) 19. 臺灣に於ける神社及宗教 (臺灣記憶） 20. 原民親手挖掘加灣神社重見天日 (自由時報) 21. Jiawan Shinto Shrine (Spectral Codex) * * * # **Gallery /****Flickr (High Res Photos)** Featured Nov 1, 2025 Kauwan Shrine (九宛祠) Nov 1, 2025 Nov 1, 2025 Oct 18, 2025 Kaohsiung Confucius Temple (高雄孔子廟) Oct 18, 2025 Oct 18, 2025 Sep 6, 2025 Sankuaicuo Station (三塊厝車站) Sep 6, 2025 Sep 6, 2025

5 months ago

⛩️ Kauwan Shrine (九宛祠) in Hualien, Taiwan

There are some fascinating details about Taiwan's Indigenous and Japanese-era history in this article

https://www.goteamjosh.com/blog/kauwan

#Taiwan #Hualien #Taiwanderful #history #台灣 #花蓮

2 1 0 0

FilmStack Inspiration Challenge Day 63: Two Takes of Contemporary Taiwan We recommend two marvelous Taiwanese films, On Happiness Road and Au Revoir Taipei; plus a panel this week on Invisible Nation

5 months ago

A Broad and Ample Road recommends two films from Taiwan's "post new wave": On Happiness Road (幸福路上) and Au Revoir Taipei (一頁台北)

open.substack.com/pub/ampleroad/p/filmstac...

#Taiwan #movies #cinema #台灣 #Taiwanderful

0 2 0 0

5 months ago

Kaohsiung Confucius Temple (高雄孔子廟)

The article explains that Kaohsiung actually has two Confucius temples, one in Zuoying and the other in Qishan. Both claim to be the biggest in Taiwan. The article focuses on the temple in Zuoying

https://www.goteamjosh.com/blog/takaokong

#Taiwan #Kaohsiung […]

0 1 0 0

5 months ago

Managona performing on the Tumbalong stage at SXSW Sydney

MANAGONA (草本藥師) from Taiwan performing on the Tumbalong stage at SXSW Sydney

#SXSW #Sydney #Taiwan #TWmusic #music #Taiwanderful #台灣

0 2 0 0

Looking back at Taiwan Beats Showcases 2024-2025 (Band edition) Besides the solo artists mentioned in our previous feature article on the Taiwan Beats showcases, many bands from Taiwan have also benefited on being on the international stage through these initiatives.

6 months ago

🎸 Taiwan Beats showcase highlights some of Taiwan's best bands

open.substack.com/pub/taiwanbeats/p/lookin...

#Taiwan #music #TWmusic #Taiwanderful #台灣

0 2 0 0

Looking back at Taiwan Beats Showcases 2024-2025 (Solo artist edition) Taiwan’s musicians have been making waves on the international scene in recent years.

6 months ago

Taiwan Beats Showcases highlights some of Taiwan's leading musicians across a range of genres

open.substack.com/pub/taiwanbeats/p/lookin...

#Taiwan #music #TWmusic #台灣

0 2 0 0

6 months ago

🎶 Taiwan is well-placed to serve as an entry point to the Asian music market. There are lots of examples of crossovers and collaborations in this article

open.substack.com/pub/taiwanbeats/p/starti...

#Taiwan #TWmusic […]

0 2 0 0

6 months ago

Kaohsiung's Yancheng District is being reinvigorated by young people setting up new businesses

"The new blood is keeping the authentic vibe and rough, humble atmosphere intact while reshaping it for an artsy, colorful, younger generation." […]

0 1 0 0

#069 – Yilan Loop ## Location: Yilan County ## Distance: 93km Elevation Gain: 970m We have stated previously that it is our desire to cover at least one popular route or loop for each county in Taiwan. A quick scroll through our previous posts will show the reader that we have fulfilled that objective in about a dozen counties so far. We have also, where applicable, included routes that are annual cycling events. The following post ticks both of those boxes. This route will also be of interest to anyone wishing to ascend the excellent climb of Taiping National Forest Recreation Area (NFRA), which we covered in #035 of our series. As usual, we recorded the ride from central Yilan at the train station. With a population of 450,000, the city center is compact and after just a few kilometers, you are out of the urban area. In order to follow the ride event as closely as possible, I went east on Provincial Highway No. 7 to get onto Provincial Highway No. 9. After 8km, I took a shortcut on the Lotung River Bike Path, a good way to get onto County Rd. No. 196. This is where the main ascent begins, quite gradual here on a really nice tree-lined road. There are a few convenience stores along here where supplies should be picked up as there is not much by way of shops after this point. The end of the 196 connects directly to Provincial Highway No. 7C. This takes you on a dog-leg detour as the only means to cross the Qingshui River. Before the end of the No. 7C the rider takes a left turn to get onto Local Rd. Lan 51. This is definitely the highlight of the ride. A really nice ascent on a forested road with lots of switchbacks over a distance of 16km. As you ascend, there are great views down to the Lanyang River, which is the main watermelon growing area of Taiwan. There are a few small villages along the way with local shops to pick up drinks. This area is primarily inhabited by the Kavalan Indigenous group. Most people will be more familiar with the name of Kavalan as a brand of whisky. Now you know where the name comes from. Riders should be aware that the Lan 51 is prone to landslides. At the time of writing, a major new bridge project is under construction to detour areas that are regularly damaged. At the end of the Lan 51, turn left to access Taiping Mt. NFRA. A right turn gets you onto Provincial Highway No. 7A and No. 7 (this is the North Cross-Island Highway featured in #008 of our series). You are now halfway through the ride, and all that remains is approximately 50km return to Yilan city. There are several kilometers of rolling before the main descent. Now on the north side of the Lanyang River, this is the main road connecting the rural farming areas to the city. As such, it gets a high volume of cabbage and watermelon trucks transporting produce to market. These drivers will give no quarter, so care is advised. Otherwise, the descent is excellent on a good surface road. We have included a link to the Lanyang 100K Cycling Challenge to be held in September 2025: Click here. Here is the GPS info for this route: © OpenStreetMap contributors Download file: Yilan_loop.gpx

7 months ago

🚴 93 km cycling loop in Yilan County, Taiwan

https://stationinthevalley.com/069-yilan-loop/

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #cycling #台灣 #宜蘭

0 1 0 0

7 months ago

🧵 How to Really Reach the Camping Ground above Fushoushan Farm by Bus
Booking first (don’t skip this!)
You must book your campsite / house online in advance — no walk-in possible.
Do not go without a confirmed booking
Also, you should reserve your seat on bus 865 from Fengyuan Transfer Station […]

0 0 0 0

7 months ago

🧵 At the Camping Ground above Fushoushan Farm
❌ No restaurant or shop
❌ Limited cold water
✅ Hot water (95 °C) is available
The nearest restaurant about a 1 hr walk downhill.
8️⃣ Camping options
Apple houses (蘋果屋): 2 persons, with heating + TV.
Tiny houses (小木屋): 4 persons.
Camping platforms […]

0 0 0 0

7 months ago

The 865 is the only public transport on Highway No. 8.
It feels like a boat in troubled waters, swaying up to dizzying heights.The road is not just winding.
The road is closed to private cars except locals with permits.
So this bus is not just convenient — it’s a rare chance to travel the […]

0 0 0 0

7 months ago

4️⃣ Break at Lishan (梨山)
When 865 reaches Lishan, ask the driver if it continues as 866.
If yes:
Tap off with EasyCard (下車 xià chē)
3min walk to FamilyMart (全家便利商店) → buy food/drinks here!
5️⃣ Continue as 866
After the break, it’s the same bus, now re-labeled as 866.
Tap on again (上車 shàng chē) […]

0 0 0 0

7 months ago

🧵 How to Really Reach the Camping Ground above Fushoushan Farm by Bus
1️⃣ EasyCard first (悠遊卡).
it’s officially a Taichung City Bus.
2️⃣ Departure Fengyuan Transfer Station (豐原轉運站) in Taichung.
Official departure: 10:05 AM.
⚠️ This is the only bus per day that […]

[Original post on mstdn.science]

0 0 0 0

Is International Tourism in Taiwan Really That Bad? Yes and no. Or just read on for some of my favorite places to take visitors.

7 months ago

Jenna Lyn Cody writes about Taiwan's problems with attracting international tourists. She also details some of her favourite places and activities in Taiwan, too

laorencha.substack.com/p/is-international-touri...

#Taiwan #Taiwanderful #travel #tourism #台灣

4 2 2 2

7 months ago

Sicao Green Tunnel (四草紅樹林綠色隧道) in Tainan is part of the Taijiang National Park (台江國家公園) which contains internationally significant wetlands

https://www.goteamjosh.com/blog/sitsho

#Taiwan #Tainan #Taiwanderful #wetlands #NationalPark #台灣 #台南

0 1 0 0