Visitors may be surprised that there is not very much in the way of displays inside the museum, because “its most valuable asset is the building itself,” according to Lo Hsiang-yun, an official from the Department of Culture under the Taipei City Government, who now works in the museum. Built in 1913, the museum was the first public bath in Taiwan. “There is no better witness than this building to how Beitou prospered, suffered downturns and then recovered,” Lo said.
The steamy mists that swirl around the two-story building give the location a mysterious ambiance, but what is considered a blessing today was once thought of as a curse. Boiling up from the volcanic core of Mount Datun, located in the Yangminshan National Park, Beitou’s hot springs evoked images of evil and doom among earlier residents of the region.
“Centuries ago, Beitou was infamous as a mysterious and even dangerous place,” Lo explained. Since the 17th century, she said, Dutch and Spanish travelers left records telling of how the “foul” air and water caused disease and took lives. Clouds of mist rising up from the valley and streams added to the unearthly atmosphere.
“The indigenous Ketagalan tribe named the region ‘Patauw,’ which meant ‘home of the witch’ in their language,” Lo said. Over the centuries, the name gradually changed into Beitou, as the location is known today in Mandarin Chinese.
It was during the Japanese colonial era that Beitou’s curse was transformed into its treasure. Having a firm belief in the therapeutic benefits of hot springs, the Japanese were pleasantly surprised to discover the springs at Beitou. The first commercial hot spring inn, Tienkouan, was established in 1896, and several more resorts quickly followed.
While public bathing was increasing in popularity, it was still generally the preserve of the better off. “Although there were many resorts in Beitou, only Japanese officers or deep-pocketed Taiwanese merchants could afford this luxury,” Lo said. Even so, commoners could enjoy a hot bath in less luxurious surroundings. Hot springs were easy enough to find in the nearby Geothermal Valley and locals often just built a small pool surrounded by rocks for a hot bath in the open air.
To give more people the opportunity to experience this natural treat, in 1913 the then Japanese administrator of Taipei ordered the construction of a public bath. While the building was intended to provide free bathing facilities for the general public, its design and construction was far from modest.
“The building combines Japanese and European styles and the design was an imitation of resorts in Izusan Onsen, a famous hot spring site in Japan,” Lo said. The Euro-Japanese style was manifested in many ways, she said. The first floor was constructed using bricks, while the second floor is mainly timber. The façade of the house is decorated with European arches and British colonial slanted weatherboards, while the interior design adopts a more traditional Japanese style with tatami flooring and sliding paper doors.
The main bath is located on the first floor surrounded by Roman arches and columns. Covering an area of 58.8 square meters, the pool was lit by stained glass windows, rare and expensive decoration in those days. The pool facilities were also segregated, reflecting social norms during the Japanese era.
“The pool was only for men, while women used a small bath in another space separated from this one. After all, women’s freedom was rather limited then,” Lo said. There were also a few individual pools reserved for special guests.
After the Japanese left Taiwan, the public bath remained in service for a while, but then underwent a number of changes in management. For a time it was used as the Beitou office of the Kuomintang, a library, a kindergarten, the Taipei County Council Hostel, and then a police station. Eventually, it was taken over by a movie company and used as a warehouse until it was eventually deserted in the early 1980s.
The building was virtually forgotten until 1994 when a group of local teachers and elementary students came across the site during a field trip. Recognizing its cultural and historic importance, they organized a group to petition the Taipei City authorities to restore this important landmark.
Their efforts led to the building being designated as a third-grade historical site by the Ministry of the Interior in 1997. After being completely renovated, the bath formally reopened as a museum in 1998.
“Years of misuse resulted in extensive damage to the building, with some damage being irreversible,” Lo said, “but the city government did its best to restore the structure to its original appearance.”
The museum’s displays reflect local history as well as the culture of hot spring bathing in Taiwan. “Visitors can trace changes over the years through these precious historic relics,” Lo explained. This display includes audio of traditional ballads accompanied by three-string fiddle, original maps drawn by the Japanese when they explored the area and photos of resort spas in their heyday.
In addition there is a small movie theater screening popular classics from the 1960s. “Back then, these movies were very popular and many of them were shot in and around Beitou,” Lo explained. She said the films and their use of the local Holo dialect have helped preserve the traditional elegance of the area.
After so many incarnations, the public bath has finally been restored to its former glory. Although tourists will no longer find steam rising from the Roman pool on the ground floor, the house now serves a higher purpose as a permanent symbol of Beitou’s past, ensuring that its unique history and culture will never get washed away in the flowing stream of time.
Write to Amber Wu at amber0207@mail.gio.gov.tw