Centuries of upheaval, belief, and reinvention converge within one walkable area.

Story and photos by STEVEN CROOK

For tourists spending a couple of weeks in Taiwan, Changhua City is seldom more than a bus-stop blur on the way to historic Lukang. But if you’re an explorer with more time on your hands, you might want to take a closer look, especially if you have a strong interest in the past.

In terms of population (currently 225,000), economic importance, and political relevance, Changhua City has been relegated to the sidelines by the rise of Taichung. Between 1723 and 1875, though, it was the administrative center of an area that encompassed much of modern-day Taichung and the counties of Nantou and Yunlin.

The second magistrate the Qing emperor in Beijing assigned to govern the county, Zhang Gao (張縞, in office 1726-1728), is remembered locally for overseeing the construction of the Changhua Confucius Temple (彰化孔子廟). By hiring master craftsmen from Fujian and sourcing high-quality materials from across the Taiwan Strait, he created one of the city’s enduring landmarks.

Reaching Changhua by Taiwan Railways Corp. (TRC) train beats getting there by High Speed Rail (HSR) — the HSR Station is 25 km south of the downtown — and of the sights you could take in as you saunter toward the Confucian shrine, two are connected to railway heritage.

The first of these is the 104-year-old Changhua Railway Roundhouse (彰化扇形車庫; No. 1, Section 1, Zhangmei Rd.), within the station perimeter but a 700-meter walk northward if you’ve just stepped off an express. Taiwan once boasted six roundhouses in which locomotives were stored, serviced, and turned around. Changhua’s is the only one still functioning as its designers intended. Its star resident is CK124, a coal-fired steam engine from 1936 that still makes the occasional excursion. Even though visitors aren’t allowed into the fan-shaped train shed or onto the turntable, there’s something quite enthralling about this unusual piece of infrastructure, which is open 1-4 p.m. Tuesday to Friday and 10 a.m.-4 p.m. on weekends.

Every other point of interest mentioned in this write-up lies south or southeast of the TRC station’s main entrance on Sanmin Road. What’s more, the distances are modest, so you can rely on your legs to get from one attraction to another. YouBike doesn’t operate in Changhua County, as the local government awarded exclusive rights to the Moovo shared-bike startup.

Whether you stroll, ride, or roller skate, it’s a mere 300 meters to 228 Chenleng Road, a rare Taiwanese representative of late-1930s Streamline Moderne architecture. This alluring building has two names. In English, it’s usually called Changhua Railway Hospital (gao binge, 高賓閣), because after World War II it served as a clinic for railway workers. Its Chinese name is actually that of the high-end Japanese restaurant which operated here during the final few years of Tokyo’s rule. Renovated top to bottom in the late 2010s, it now houses boutiques and other small shops.

Moving east along Chenleng Road to the Changan Street intersection will bring you to one of the city’s most popular eateries. The signature dish at A-Chang’s Meatballs (彰化老担阿璋肉圓; open 9:30 a.m.-10 p.m. daily) is a ball of pork in a glutinous dumpling made from sweet potato starch and drenched with a blend of sauces. They’re so hefty that only the hungriest of gourmands should consider ordering more than a single meatball.

Some 350 meters further along the same thoroughfare, Changhua Yuanqing Taoist Monastery (國定古蹟-彰化元清觀; No. 155, Minsheng Rd.; open 6:30 a.m.-9 p.m. daily) is one of four national-level landmarks (國定古蹟) in Changhua City. The others are Changhua Railway Roundhouse, Changhua Confucius Temple, and Shengwang Temple (聖王廟). Lukang, by comparison, has just two such landmarks.

Established in 1763 by migrants from the Jinjiang area of Quanzhou in China’s Fujian province, yet devastated by fire in 2006, the monastery’s interior is now an incongruous patchwork of authentically timeworn elements alongside panels and paintings that are obviously much newer.

It’s hard to fault the restoration effort, but for now, the site offers little of the weathered antiquity you’d expect to find in a sacred structure that’s stood for over two and a half centuries. Temple devotees seeking a stronger sense of the past might want to detour to the southern edge of the downtown, where Shengwang Temple (No. 19, Lane 239, Zhonghua Rd.; open 8 a.m.-6 p.m. daily) hides in a nondescript residential neighborhood.

A venue for sacrifice and prayer that’s even older than its counterpart, Shengwang Temple represents a different chapter in Taiwan’s settlement story. The eponymous monarch, a semi-legendary figure said to have been born in the middle of the seventh century, has long been deified by the inhabitants of Zhangzhou in Fujian and their descendants in Taiwan for his masterful governance of their home prefecture. (According to biographies, he administered it as an imperial official; the royal appellation is an honorific.) The king is venerated in at least 70 other shrines around Taiwan, but this is one of the very few where he’s accompanied by his wife and two eunuch servants.

For those on foot, you may want to skip Shengwang Temple and head directly to the Confucian shrine. Its official address (No. 30, Kongmen Rd.) is misleading; the main gate is opened just once a year, on September 28, for the great sage’s birthday. At other times, access (8:30 a.m.-5 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday) is via a side entrance on Minsheng Road, a few steps south of what’s claimed to be the only traditional tatami-making workshop still operating in Changhua County.

Compared with its counterparts in Taipei and Tainan, Changhua’s Confucius Temple strikes some as rather empty and slightly neglected, with peeling paint and faded decorations that speak to its age. Resting your legs and your mind here for a bit is sensible, because it’ll take at least 10 minutes to cover the 700 meters to the next suggested stop — and once you get there, you might not believe what you’re seeing.

Scale and decoration are not strengths for Nantian Temple (彰化市八卦南天宮; No. 12, Lane 187, Section 1, Gongyuan Rd.; open 8 a.m.-6:30 p.m. daily). Established in 1971, it also lacks a historical pedigree. To attract outsiders and their dollars — while reminding the public that misdeeds committed in this world have to be paid for in the next one — the temple’s founders decided that the second and fourth floors would be given over to depictions of the Eighteen Levels of Hell (十八層地獄).

Through a combination of animatronics, atmospheric lighting, and soundscapes, each scene aspires to make an impact. Demons subject those who led degenerate lives to various forms of torture. But if you don’t understand the Chinese commentary, you can only guess why one man has been lashed to a red-hot stovepipe, another is being sawn in half, and a third is having his tongue pulled out with a hook. Despite the villainous cackles of those inflicting torments, and the chilling screams of those on the receiving end, you may well find the funfair haunted-house atmosphere downright hilarious, not least because the hardware is so obviously rundown. Admission is NT$50, and it’s money well spent.

Nantian Temple is on the southern slopes of Mount Bagua (八卦山), from which Changhua’s famous dark-brown seated Buddha gazes westward across downtown — and it’s possible to reach the landmark by continuing a little further east and then turning up Lane 237, Section 1, Gongyuan Road.

Depending on the temperature and how clear the sky is, you may end up lingering atop the 97-meter-high hill for a good while. In good weather, it’s possible to see offshore wind turbines. The Mount Bagua Skywalk, an elevated 1,007-meter-long trail that winds through the forest canopy, is especially worthwhile in June, when poinciana trees erupt in shades of orange and red. The skywalk is closed to the public until August 30, 2026, while the Changhua County Government installs new bridge panels to improve grip in wet weather and offer better walking comfort, according to the city’s tourism department.

A few minutes are enough to take in the Great Buddha itself. Completed in the 1960s and standing 23 meters tall, this concrete entity projects a stillness that feels worlds apart from the site’s blood-soaked history. It was on this ridge, on August 27, 1895, that Taiwanese forces opposed to Beijing’s surrender of Taiwan to Tokyo suffered a shattering defeat. The Imperial Japanese Army’s battle casualties were light, but in the weeks that followed their victory, malaria and other diseases sent thousands of the invaders to the infirmary or to the graveyard.

Taking the shortest route from the Great Buddha back into downtown will bring you right past the entrance to the 1895 Baguashan Anti-Japanese Martyrs’ Museum (1895八卦山抗日保台史蹟館; No. 500, Section 2, Zhongshan Rd.; open 9:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday). Unless you’re a history buff or someone who reads Chinese — English signage is sparse — the most intriguing aspect of this museum is that it occupies what used to be a sizable air-raid shelter.

Turning north along Zhongshan Road (which here doubles as Provincial Highway 1), past the red brick library, brings you to three points of interest. The first is a colonial era Art Deco edifice now serving as Changhua Arts Hall (彰化藝術館; open 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday).

A pathway between the hall and the parking lot leads to a tiny shrine and a well at the very foot of Mount Bagua. The shrine is dedicated to the neighborhood’s land god, while the well is said to have been dug at the behest of the Dutch during their brief mid-17th-century occupation of this area. It’s known as the “Red-Hair Well” (八卦山紅毛井), “red-haired” being an old Taiwanese nickname for Westerners. The well shaft has a safety cover, but the pitcher pump sees plenty of action from residents who still go there to fill buckets or wash laundry.

Behind the parking lot, there’s a solitary tomb, the dimensions of which befit the family who built it. It’s the final resting place of Hsueh Mien (薛麵), who died in 1904. Her second son was tycoon Koo Hsien-jung (辜顯榮, 1866-1937), whose billionaire descendants have long been prominent in Taiwan’s financial and cement industries. According to feng shui devotees, the site’s highly desirable “crab’s den” topography traps and stores wealth.

You may not believe in feng shui, but by the time you return to the TRC station, you should be convinced of this: Changhua is a city that rewards those who trade Lukang’s well-trodden alleys for its own weathered, unpretentious, and occasionally eccentric charms.