Whether a Southern-style military village or a secret escape tunnel once reserved for Chiang Kai-shek, these properties prove that repurposing the past can be both meaningful and luxurious.
Purpose-built hotels are invariably comfortable and convenient places to stay, but they’re not always the most exciting. Around the world, lodgings, castles, monasteries, and even warehouses have been converted into charming retreats to attract travelers seeking characterful accommodations.
Taiwan doesn’t have a strong tradition of preserving and repurposing old buildings. But as these four locations show, the island is successfully transforming pre-existing structures into unforgettable guest experiences.
American Village Taipei 陽明山美國渡假村
Near the Yangmingshan campus of Chinese Culture University, what used to be housing for U.S. military personnel and their dependents has been revamped as the American Village Taipei (AVT). Described as “Southern U.S. suburban housing transplanted to Taipei,” the village comprises single-story homes surrounded by lawns and white picket fences.
Entrepreneur Robin Hsu got the ball rolling in 2014 when he obtained a 10-year lease on the site from its owner, the state-run Bank of Taiwan. Hsu, who worked in radio and TV before leading build-operate-transfer projects with Taiwan’s then-Tourism Bureau (now the Tourism Administration), was granted a second lease last year.
According to emailed answers from AVT’s management team, around NT$120 million (US$4 million) has so far been invested in landscaping the 5,500-ping (1.82 hectares) property and renovating 11 of the site’s 13 buildings, all of which date from the 1950s and 1960s. AVT has plans for the two other buildings, expecting progress to be “slow but steady since many issues need to be taken into account.”
Since 2007, the neighborhood has been listed as a special cultural landscape preservation area. As well as having to comply with regulations set by the city government’s Department of Urban Development, any major changes have to respect recommendations from Taipei’s Department of Cultural Affairs and consider the views of local residents. “This requires extensive communication, compromise, and significant investments of both time and budget,” the AVT team explains.
Rather than couples or families, AVT targets groups of between 8 and 10 people who may want to prepare their own meals, enjoy a barbecue, and/or sing karaoke. Some of those who’ve stayed at the village say they especially appreciate having so much space for their children (and dogs) to run around without disturbing others.
“We offer a group-oriented lodging experience,” says AVT. “It’s more like selling a short-term villa to customers. There were few existing references for this concept, so it’s been both an opportunity and a marketing challenge.” So far, more than 85% of the village’s guests have been Taiwanese.
Family groups, some of which come to Taipei to attend weddings, account for around 60% of bookings. Most of the others are company or school groups. The village gets especially busy around the New Year (on both the Gregorian and Lunar calendars) and during July and August.
The One Nanyuan 南園人文客棧
In the China of yore, the wealthy and educated sometimes commissioned the creation of private gardens where they could seclude themselves. These “literati gardens” aimed to integrate architecture and landscape while reflecting the highest cultural and artistic values. It was in this tradition that, in the early 1980s, China-born businessman Wang Ti-wu asked architect Han Pao-teh – later celebrated for his efforts to preserve Taiwan’s historic buildings – to imagine a complex of buildings on a piece of land he owned in the hills of Hsinchu County.
Taking inspiration from Jiangnan and Minnan styles of architecture, as well as works of art and photos, Shandong-born Han designed a sprawling abode where Wang, his wife, and their five children could escape from the bustle of Taipei, plus a recreation center for employees of Wang’s United Daily News.
The buildings’ frames are wooden, and, as in ancient China, beams and columns are linked by mortise-and-tenon joints rather than with rebar or nails. This helps dissipate earthquake-induced vibrations, protecting the structures from damage.
Following Wang’s death in 1996, the 27-hectare estate saw infrequent use until Taipei-based wellness brand The One recognized its potential to become a premier retreat. After discussions with the foundation that owns the site and agreeing not to make any alterations that might undermine Wang and Han’s original vision, the company began delicately preparing the site for both overnight guests and day visitors.
To create a tranquil and restorative experience for guests, The One reconfigured the recreation center’s 40 rooms into 20 suites. Day visitors are limited to no more than 60 people per day. “This also allows the land to ‘breathe,’ fostering harmony between people and nature, guaranteeing an exclusive retreat and wellness experience while minimizing environmental impact,” says Peggy Chang, The One’s brand communications manager.
According to Chang, the company has so far poured nearly NT$200 million into the property. Around 40% of those who stay here are repeat guests, she says. Western visitors account for only around 5% of guests. Between September and December, the property hosts a wedding almost every weekend.
In keeping with The One’s stated desire to create “culturally inspired experiences rooted in local heritage, cuisine, and traditions,” meals served here are designed around top-notch local artisanal produce. What’s more, guests know exactly what they’re eating, thanks to the detailed bilingual booklet that accompanies each repast.
With Inn Hostel 同．居
Previously the home of an entrepreneur surnamed Hsu, his wife, and their seven children, a 60-year-old property in the center of Kaohsiung has been welcoming travelers for just over a decade.
Hsu was active in the cement industry, so it’s hardly surprising that what’s now With Inn Hostel is an example of the highest construction standards of its time, says Cucu Huang, the hostel’s founder and manager. Having explained her intentions to the 56-ping (185 m²) building’s current owners (three of Hsu’s grandsons), Huang signed an initial six-year lease and invested around NT$3 million to get the 28-bed hostel up and running.
Huang says she only made a few modifications, and not just because she took over a building that was in good condition. “From the start, I hoped travelers would appreciate the character of this house and that they’d feel relaxed here,” she explains.
Only one change was made to the original floor plan. What used to be an open living area on the second floor was closed off to create a private room with its own bathroom, a mezzanine-type double bed, and a spacious private balcony.
Occupants of the hostel’s other private room share bathrooms with dormitory guests. As is common in Japanese homes, the building’s toilets (one on each floor) are separate from the showers.
A serving hatch connecting the original kitchen at the back and a room in the center of the first floor is now the reception. The hatch’s vertically sliding glass partition remains in place, but Huang says she avoids closing it as it looks fragile. Right beside the hatch, there’s a faux fireplace, another feature reflecting foreign influences.
Some of the doors and most of the window frames are the original hinoki (檜木, Japanese cypress) fixtures. The roof beams – nowadays visible when you climb to the third floor but previously hidden by ceiling panels – are thought to be Taiwan spruce (臺灣雲杉, Táiwān yún shān).
Huang speculates that the eight-petal-pattern floor tiles on the uppermost level may have come from Spain. That part of the building once housed the owner’s ancestor shrine. Other interior surfaces are decorated with speckled renderings in shades of cream, yellow, and pink.
Like many of Taiwan’s older buildings, With Inn Hostel has sprung a few leaks in its time. In late 2023, Huang suspended her business for 20 days so the roof could be renewed. This work involved cooperating with the adjoining house and importing tiles from Japan – and it was paid for by the owners, who recognized its necessity, Huang explains.
Gloria Manor 華泰瑞苑
Between Chiang Kai-shek’s withdrawal to Taiwan in 1949 and his death in 1975, the Nationalist leader spent time at 30 or more properties around the island. Several of these retreats, including what in 2012 became Gloria Manor, enjoy locations that are truly priceless.
Located in Taiwan’s south, this three-story structure, previously known as Kenting Hotel (墾丁賓館), belongs to the Ministry of Agriculture’s Forestry and Nature Conservation Agency (FNCA). Now managed by Gloria Hotel Group (GHG) under an operate-transfer contract with the FNCA, the site is a five-minute drive from the busiest part of Taiwan’s most popular beach resort. From the 65 rooms and suites, all guests can see the Bashi Channel or the 318-meter-tall Dajian Mountain, one of the region’s most distinctive landscape features.
Working within the confines of contractual obligations and FNCA policies, GHG has turned plain-Jane late 1960s buildings into an upmarket holiday hideaway. In the words of Mandy Wu, Gloria Manor’s general manager, it’s “an environment where people can really chill out.”
Wu points out hexagonal floor tiles and wall patterns inspired by bamboo. The former are common in local temples because they represent longevity. In Chinese culture, bamboo symbolizes humility, modesty, and simplicity.
She explains that GHG hoped to replace the lobby’s four ocean-facing windows with a much greater surface area of glass to make the most of the superb view, but this proposal was vetoed by the FNCA.
Some modifications were approved, however. Adding large skylights to a few of the deluxe rooms means luckier guests can gaze upward at the stars while taking a bath. Water-heating thermal solar panels installed on the roof reduce Gloria Manor’s energy consumption. To satisfy 21st-century accessibility requirements, there’s also an elevator.
Because the FNCA prohibits fences and netting that might impede wildlife, monkeys and sika deer often wander through the parking lot at night or drink from the swimming pool early in the morning. Most guests are delighted to see wild animals. But once in a while, Wu says, staff have to wash a guest’s car after it’s soiled on by a passing macaque.
Long before swimming pools were standard at tourist-class hotels, Chiang’s Kenting base had a pool because Madame Chiang (who learned to swim in New Hampshire) enjoyed a daily dip.
One of the most intriguing parts of the property served as the Chiang’s master bedroom. It retains the original furnishings.
A highlight for many visitors is the room’s unique fireplace. It wasn’t built to keep out the cold – it never gets that chilly in Kenting – but rather to disguise the entrance to a secret escape tunnel through which Chiang could make his way to the lawn out front, where a helicopter would whisk him to safety. These days, of course, no one is in a hurry to leave.
