Three Great Articles About Taiwan

As I head back from a combination business trip/mini-vacation in southern Taiwan, I thought it would be a good idea to highlight three excellent articles about Taiwan by three smart women who care about this country, and tell you whyI like them so much. If you’re interested in changing perspectives on Taiwan, including through foreign voices, all three are worth reading. Sadly, two are behind paywalls, but if you have free articles left with the New York Times and Asia Nikkei, these are worth the views. 

First up, let’s talk about What Taiwan Really Wants. This editorial by Natasha Kassam in the New York Times does an excellent job of framing the issue. 

A key quote for anyone who can’t get around the paywall: 

The status quo means maintaining de facto independence but avoiding retaliation from China. And the percentage of Taiwan’s people who want to maintain the status quo indefinitely is growing. It is the best-case scenario in a sea of unenviable options.

To be sure, if there were no risk of invasion from China, the majority would choose independence.

But China’s President Xi Jinping has made clear that such a declaration is not available to Taiwan. So the status quo is pragmatic — and preferable.

This is succinct, expert analysis which acknowledges the role of the ‘status quo’ while clarifying that a preference to maintain that status quo does not mean that there is no consensus on sovereignty or unification.

Certainly, not everyone is on the same page. In any society there will be a range of opinions. However, stopping at “most people prefer the status quo” makes the issue sound far more fractious than it really is. The truth is that most people prefer sovereignty and peace — not just one or the other — and if the only available option is this “status quo”, they’ll take it. 

It’s also about time we acknowledged that the way the questions on the “status quo” survey are worded push respondents toward choosing it. Almost nobody wants to choose unification, but there’s no option for choosing “independence, but without fighting a war.” I'm not the first person to point this out, either.

Participants are never asked what they’d prefer absent a threat from Beijing — which is to say, what they ideally, actually want for their country. It's not a pointless question: it's the only type of question that attempts to probe respondents' true desires. Currently, every answer clearly leaning toward “independence” carries an implicit acknowledgement that war might be a part of that choice.

What people are trying to say here is that they want both. They want better options, but ultimately, the status quo is sovereignty. 

Pretending otherwise does a disservice to Taiwan. It relegates “pro-independence” sentiment to only a narrow set of views, when actual pro-independence Taiwanese don’t necessarily fit in those boxes. 

We know this because those same Taiwanese who say they “prefer the status quo” also identify as solely Taiwanese or prioritize Taiwanese identity. People know what they want. Listen to them.

Here is how you can tell Kassam is a true expert: it took my several paragraphs to say that. She clarified it in half the space, without falling into the trap that fells so many analysts: the idea that “the status quo” represents indecisiveness, or that the survey in question even has construct validity. In my opinion, it doesn’t — the questions don’t actually ask what interpreters of the survey think they do.

Next up, Rhoda Kwan writes about the erosion of the Taiwanese language in public spaces for Hong Kong Free Press. This is an excellent piece both for the clarity with which it discusses Japanese and KMT linguistic imperialism, while pointing out that attitudes today, influenced by past authoritarianism, are also barriers to making Taiwanese mainstream in all situations, including formal ones. 

Hong Kong Free Press has no paywall, but here’s a key takeaway:

The academic’s attempts to use Taiwanese in his daily life have been polarising. Although some Taiwanese have hailed his efforts to engage with a long-oppressed facet of Taiwanese life, some have also taken offence at his use of the language in professional settings.

“Some Taiwanese stigmatised the language and believe that it should not be used in formal situations,” he told HKFP. “I had an experience in southern Taiwan where a Taiwanese said to me angrily, ‘How can you speak the Taiwanese language in such a formal situation? I am very surprised that the university employed this kind of faculty member!'”

This anger speaks to the threats facing the Taiwanese language in the island today, where its use is almost confined to certain social milieus. 

“You often hear construction workers or police officers speaking Taiwanese… so there’s always been these environments [to speak it], even though it’s been formally suppressed,” Catherine Chou, a Taiwanese-American history professor, told HKFP.

That’s the tricky thing when a language becomes very context-specific, there’s the danger of actually losing it, because the mentality becomes ‘It’s not for general use, it’s for the home, it’s for very specific business relationships, it’s for people that I know, it’s not for people I don’t know’,” she continued.

This is fantastic because Chou (who is quoted here) is right. I say that with the full force of someone who actually is an expert in this stuff: I’m a die-hard social constructionist and interactionist. And that’s the core of it: you need meaningful and varied opportunities to use a language as well as the motivation to actually do so in order to attain a high proficiency level. 

And the attitude that Taiwanese is for family and friends and informal situations — a ‘kitchen language’ — is now the obstacle that must be overcome. If initiatives like Bilingual by 2030 are to truly give languages like Taiwanese adequate resources, this needs to be taken into account. 

Finally, Erin Hale talks about “Taiwan’s Enduring Fascination with Japanese Architecture” in Nikkei Asia. 

This is a fantastic piece because it uses architecture in an immediately relevant way to deconstruct the half-hearted screeching of online tankies and trolls. 

Ever heard one of them whinge about how Taiwanese still have “colonized minds” because they wish they were still ruled as a colony of Japan? I have. But it’s not remotely true: the underlying assumption here is that thinking of your cultural heritage as partly Japanese is “colonial”, and thinking of it as uniquely Taiwanese is “separatist” — the only way to properly think of one’s culture, according to these people (or bots) is to consider it wholly and unchangeably Chinese. 

But Taiwan is more than that, and Taiwanese history proves it. Acknowledging one aspect of one’s cultural heritage is not the same as idealizing a former colonizer.

Hale lays this out well: 

To many Taiwanese, however, these buildings represent a new "Taiwanese identity of pluralism" where Japanese cultural influence is "not seen as a foreign element that's going to dilute Chinese culture" but as part of a more complex identity for the third-wave democracy, said NTU's Huang.

But, Huang warned, by embracing Taiwan's past, people should not over idealize it. The Japanese era is remembered so well in Taiwan in part because of the martial law that came after it, not because of the innate superiority of Japanese culture or governance.

She also lays out the problems with architectural restoration: it’s expensive, and there are a lot of buildings which were left to rot by the KMT as a form of replacing Japanese influence with Chinese. The lack of maintenance makes them even harder to restore. There are only so many Japanese cafes and restaurants in restored buildings that a country needs, but allowing private companies to do the restoration with the government as a ‘landlord’ has worked in a few cases. 

I’d also add that some of these buildings have been turned into museums, like the Railway Department Park, which was carefully restored in conjunction with the National Taiwan Museum just up the road. 

There you have it — three great writers and analysts, three great pieces, three things worth reading this week. Every one of them evidence that discourse on Taiwan is changing. 

Taiwanese education is not particularly "Confucian"

It sure looks traditional but they've also got bags on their heads.

Happy Teachers' Day! I happen to be off today for reasons completely unrelated to the holiday. So I wanted to circle back to a topic I've hit on before, but bears repeating for emphasis: 

There's a cliche popular in Taiwan that Taiwanese education is "Confucian" or based on the philosophy of Confucianism.

This is used as praise where it succeeds: high standards, high societal respect for education, universal secondary school and near-universal tertiary education, educating some of the world's best engineers, inventors and medical researchers. It's also used as a criticism for the system's failures: an over-emphasis on testing and lack of critical thinking or creativity, uninspiring lecture-style teaching, slavish devotion to scores, sticking students in classrooms for hours longer each day than their Western counterparts, sometimes seven days a week, a dearth of chances to simply ask questions. 

It is, however, false. It's straight-up historically inaccurate. In addition to having little historical basis, "Confucianism" as the fundamental belief behind Taiwanese education doesn't even accurately describe the system that exists.

So why does this myth persist? Partly because it's been around so long, and educators themselves like to trot it out. It's made its way into writing about Taiwanese education, which then gets cited as historical and sociological fact, and repeated yet again. For years it was an easy way for the old KMT dictatorship to obscure what they were really doing with education in Taiwan: turning it into a system to churn out competent workers who didn't ask too many questions, and as a locus of Sinocentric indoctrination. Even they knew that sounded bad, but "Confucian" sounds good -- wholesome, traditional, local, back-to-basics. 

By repeating it, you're only helping that myth persist. 

What are the roots of Taiwanese education, then? Mostly, they're Japanese. 

Under the Qing, there was no centralized or universal education system in Taiwan. The wealthy sent their sons to Confucian academies; some of the buildings these were housed in still exist, but the schools themselves have been gone for over a century. Girls were either educated at home, if the family was wealthy and inclined to think it was "worth" educating them, or not at all. These young, rich men formed a base of Taiwanese literati, but there weren't very many of them. The Qing themselves did nothing at all to develop education (or much of anything) in Taiwan. 

How do we know this? Because at its worst, "Confucian education" is reduced to memorization and regurgitation in order to pass imperial civil service exams. And how many Taiwanese actually took these exams in the Qing era? According to Manthorpe (Forbidden Nation), in all those centuries the total was 251. Of those, only 11 made it to the third-level examination in Beijing. Of those, only one or two -- I'm not exactly sure, but fewer than 5 -- ever qualified to become a Qing official. No Taiwanese ever served as Qing officials in Taiwan.

In Chou and Ching's Taiwan Education at the Crossroad, a historical overview of education in Taiwan completely skips the Qing era. It simply was not emphasized at that time.

That's not to say that Confucian education has to be bad. At its best, it does in fact prioritize questioning, the teacher-student learning relationship, and application. As I've said before, while I won't defend Koxinga as a person, he was a very good military tactician: this was not because he'd memorized and regurgitated the classics. It was because he was able to apply the teachings of the classics to real-world military situations. 

If you're thinking hmm, okay, but that doesn't sound like Taiwanese education, you're correct. Because Taiwanese education is not particularly Confucian.

To what extent Confucian education existed in Taiwan a century or two ago, it was only for a very few wealthy boys.  Of course, that changed -- what did Japan do differently?

Taiwanese education under the Japanese was based on Meiji-era education in Japan itself. Meiji education in Japan was conceived as bell-shaped: basic literacy and numeracy for the masses, perhaps some secondary education or further vocational training for emerging middle classes, and high-level education for the elites. This was based both on Western and Japanese notions of universal education: roughly put, some level of universality from the former, study of classics and moral codes from the latter.

This isn't a perfect way of putting it, of course: in the 19th century not all Western societies had embarked on projects of universal education -- it might be said that Japan beat them to it. Now, the West tends to look at universal education as a foundation of liberal democracy, but it seems more likely that leaders in these societies felt that a better-educated population would increase the supply of competent labor, leading to greater economic prosperity (and thus more money for the elites who employed them). The connection to Western thought in Meiji education, however, is quite direct, and well-documented.

This was the system that the Japanese colonial authorities slowly imported to Taiwan.

It is true that traditional Japanese notions of education, including the more scholarly pursuits of the samurai class, did influence the system as well. The moral codes embedded within these do have connections to Confucian thought. But to take that connection and say that Taiwanese education is therefore Confucian is like saying the Taiwanese language is influenced by English because the word for truck is turaku -- which came from the Japanese adoption of the English word "truck". Technically correct, but a rather long chain of connections to base a belief on.

This isn't what most people mean when they say "Taiwanese education is Confucian", though. What they're usually trying to imply is that Taiwanese society is inherently culturally and historically Chinese, and therefore the foundational orientation of education is, too. They're (often unintentionally) trying to push the historical narrative away from Japanese influence and toward Chinese. This is also exactly what the KMT sought to do when Taiwan was in its jaws.

Japanese education in Taiwan started out by enrolling elites, with very few schools opening in the early years. Then it rolled out to universal elementary education. Junior high school followed. By the early 20th century, girls' schools had opened, and some young Taiwanese women from wealthy families were going to Japan to study, or at least aspiring to it. Higher education gradually became available to a few elites, although it was difficult to gain entry as Taiwanese. In fact, many would-be teachers and doctors opted to study in Japan instead, as admission requirements were easier and such study would certainly lead to good jobs back in Taiwan.

The goal of this system was, again, to give everyone a nominal education in order to produce good workers for the empire. It most certainly was not to teach them to inquire, think critically, question their place or consider themselves equal to their Japanese leaders, though some members of the elite did indeed gain a more critical political consciousness. 

Because Taiwanese were not Japanese and most had no emotional attachment to Japan, another goal was included: a civic education intended to acculturate Taiwanese into Japanese norms and instill (blind) patriotism for the Japanese empire. In other words, political and cultural indoctrination.

It did employ some of the morality of Confucianism, however, this was intentionally divorced from any sort of Chinese cultural context, and only encouraged where it served the Japanese rulers. That is, it was implemented for political reasons only. From Tsurumi's Japanese Colonial Education in Taiwan: 

But because Chinese classical studies had been associated with Taiwan's past under Chinese rule, many Japanese regarded them with suspicion. Great care was taken to lift Confucian morality from its historical context. Where the classical tradition urged loyalty and obedience to one's superiors it was to be strengthened; where it encouraged identification with China it was to be forbidden. Confucian principles, colonial educators thought, could be taught through all-important Japanese language studies, which would emphasize loyalty to Japan as they improved communication between ruled and ruler....(p. 12)

Loyalty, filial piety, obedience to legitimate authority -- all found within the Chinese Confucian tradition -- were emphasized with this end [keeping rural Taiwanese in the same occupations as their parents] in view. At the same time, great efforts were made to instill a very non-Confucian idea in Taiwanese schoolchildren. This was that manual labor was a dignified and honorable pastime for a scholar as well as for anyone else. Again and again, educational authorities urged teachers to show that the man who worked with his head also worked with his hands. Children were taught to clean and tidy their schoolrooms and work in their school vegetable patches. (p. 214)

This did not change meaningfully when the KMT took over Taiwan. 

In fact, where Japanese rule had improved Taiwan, the new government simply kept what was working. In some cases, they retained the Japanese -- often engineers -- who had worked on these projects for some time, until they had the expertise to run these systems themselves. All they really did was re-brand and take over. 

With education, this worked by keeping the fundamental system in place, but re-orienting the national education/taught patriotism towards Chinese culture rather than Japanese. The language switched to Mandarin, and lectures on the importance of loving one's country now focused on the Republic of China's vision of China, complete with Sun Yat-sen's philosophies and chanting slogans while raising the new national flag. 

As far as I can tell, no re-introduction of Confucianism took place, and certainly Confucian styles of education did not replace the system that was already there. Why would it? What they had already suited their purposes, just as it had the Japanese: just enough education to create good workers who wouldn't ask questions, with a hefty dose of authoritarian indoctrination. All they really needed to do was teach obedience to legitimate authority, and then lecture endlessly about how and why their own authority was legitimate.

The only thing that had changed was the colonizer doing it.

There were some relevant shifts. One might charitably say that the old Confucian morality that the Japanese used to their own ends was re-attached to its cultural context. I take a more critical view, however: the KMT simply took the Confucian morals that the Japanese had worked so hard to engineer for their own purposes, and simply applied them to KMT dogma instead. Because the KMT came from China, they could claim that this morality was in fact Chinese culture, and such a claim would have a very surface-level plausibility. Even the punitive and traumatizing bevy of exams, both national exams and those given at the individual school level, could be said to be "Confucian", but as discussed above, this is Confucian thought only in its worst, most dogmatic, most base form. 

As an example of how thin this veneer is: in Chou and Ching's Taiwan Education at the Crossroads, they mention Confucianism in Taiwanese education five times. Each time, they tie it back to "the mainland", although to their credit, they don't pretend the first several decades of the Republic of China on Taiwan wasn't authoritarian. However, at no point do they dive into exactly what is so "Confucian" about this system, or how the Japanese structure was tied in with "Confucianism" in the 20th century. They state it was the case, but provide little or no evidence.

It suits the government to continue to cite Confucianism in relation to Taiwanese education, and so there hasn't been much effort to change these stale narratives. It makes it easier for the bureaucrats currently in charge to either not enact change, or do it so achingly slowly that it seems to have little effect. It makes it easier to leave the traumatizing, soul-destroying testing system in place because of "culture" rather than actually do something about it -- which would be harder.

Some people in the Ministry of Education do have more progressive views. However, they face a deeply entrenched bureaucracy as well as critics who think an orientation towards education appropriate for a democracy (that is, one that teaches you to actually think) and learning about Taiwan is the same as the old KMT authoritarian indoctrination, even though they are not at all equivalent.

For the pan-blue camp, it makes it easier to put a soft-focus lens on history. "A system designed to quash independent thought, create good workers and legitimize authoritarian leadership" isn't a good look. "Confucian!" is much better branding. It plays into their bottom line: that Taiwanese culture is Chinese, and diverts attention away from their 20th century dictatorial brutality in Taiwan.

For teachers, it makes it easier to square the cognitive dissonance of how they were trained -- through fairly modern methods that do help them understand the ideals of education -- with how they must teach in a system that badly needs reform. "We know this doesn't work but it's very difficult to change, and we have little power to do so" is depressing. "Well, Taiwanese education is Confucian and therefore it's traditional" is a little easier to live with.

That does not, however, mean it is accurate.

Xishu Old Street and Sikunshen (Tainan)

I'm going to present this post more as a photo essay, because I don't have much specifically to say about each picture. But, I wanted to write about these older areas of southern Tainan that are often overlooked: Xishu Old Street 喜樹老街 and nearby Sikunshen 四鯤鯓. Both of these areas are old settlements, and most likely fishing villages given their proximity to the coast. 

It's worth noting that thanks to a highway and a seawall, you can't actually see the ocean from either now, but it is there. Either of these might make a fine diversion or extra stop on a day trip to the beach down here. I haven't actually been to the beach, so I can't say if it's any good.

For awhile, local governments in Taiwan were keen to promote "old streets" -- streets mostly full of Japanese-era architecture that either once served as the downtown or high street of a city, or were otherwise left intact. You can find them all over the place, with the most famous examples being Daxi (Taoyuan County) and Sanxia (New Taipei). Others exist but none top the architecture of those two. They filled up with very similar businesses selling retro-style toys, balms and oils, wooden massage, backscratching and pressure-point implements, various sweet and savory snacks (preserved fruit is popular), food vendors and little souvenirs. Sprinkle in a few restaurants, snack vendors selling whatever the town is 'famous' for and perhaps a cafe, and you have a classic 'old street'. I've also explored some quieter ones, such as Hukou Old Street in Hsinchu County, which is quite difficult to get to.

People still go to these, and I don't mind popping through if I'm in the town; they can be nice if they're not too crowded. 

Some old streets, however, don't quite make it: take Xishu Old Street (喜樹老街) outside Tainan city, for example. This area is very close to the Gold Coast beach area, and not conveniently located for transport. There is a parking lot, and the Bus #1 comes down here from central Tainan, but it doesn't come very often. The bus stop is on Xishu Road (喜樹路). Just outside the old village area there are some convenience stores, and Google says there are restaurants around, though none were open when we passed through.

What's interesting about this area isn't how bustling it is, because it isn't. Rather, it's more like an atmospheric residential backstreet which reveal a few past attempts at being renovated for tourism, surrounded by a nearly abandoned village of crumbling brick houses.

In the photos you'll see quite a few original Majolica tiles (meaning these houses are probably from the Japanese era, as the tiles became popular in Taiwan after they started coming in from Japan) and some original painting, all of it fading and rotting in the elements. While I'd love to see these houses preserved or renovated just as they are, the fact is most of them are so far gone that they're unlivable now. So, the next best thing would be to try and rescue the art to be found here, through in situ preservation if possible -- but perhaps dismantling if not. While the look of beautifully painted wooden walls deteriorating over the decades is poetic and melancholy, I'd rather see this work saved somehow.

Notable points include an area that seems to have been a renovated performance space (though there was nothing going on while we were there), a few abandoned historic houses such as the 鄭家古厝 (the Zheng family home), and what seems to have been the original purveyor of those bags and purses in Taiwan that are shaped and printed to look exactly like fish (though they were not open when we visited). There is also a lot of cat-themed decoration: according to one signboard, the area used to be full of street cats. They'd played an important role in controlling the mouse population when people lived here. Then over time the people mostly left, but the cats stayed. Then, eventually, the cats left too.  

A very short drive north along the coast, you'll find Sikunshen (四鯤鯓). This village is a bit more, well...inhabited than Xishu, and very atmospheric to walk around. The town still seems to have a lot of connections to the shellfish business, especially oysters, and as it's still inhabited, the cats are still around.

There's not a lot to do, but it's fairly easy to park at Longshan Temple (龍山寺), or the Bus #6 will take you here. It's not even that hard to transfer between the #1 and the #6 -- you have to do a little backtracking, but it's possible -- if you've decided to spend the day in the area, though it will take longer than driving. 

Sikunshen has more crumbling brick architecture, a few interestingly-decorated renovated houses, and a very large old well. If any local aunties or uncles are around, they might fetch you a bucket to draw water from it, if you want. 

The signboard by the well notes that there were actually two large wells in this area, one on each side of Longshan Temple. Because of this, they were considered the 'eyes' of the dragon-like sea creature -- hence this well's name: 龍目 (Longmu or Dragon Eyes). The water here was apparently especially sweet ad plentiful, though frankly all signs next to historic well say that, trust me. Nobody's ever like "yeah this was our old well, the water was gross and tasted bad". It's always something more like "we dubbed this well 'Eternal Sweet Water' for the sustenance it gave the community!"

In any case, municipal water was installed in 1968.

The name of the village is notable, as well. If you read my post on Luermen (鹿耳門), you'll know that much of what is now Tainan used to be a wide, shallow bay called the Taijiang Inland Sea. Cordoning this bay off from the Taiwan Strait were a series of sandbars that peeked out of the water at regular intervals which looked, taken together, like humps on the back of a massive sea monster or whale (鯤鯓), which is how the area gets its name. Although the geography has changed quite a bit in the past few centuries, these bits of the sea creature's back were numbered. Sikunshen was, of course, the fourth one. 

Anyway, enough of me talking: enjoy some photos. 

Xishu Old Street

Sikunshen

The restored Japanese temple in Taoyuan, and other assorted goodies

You know you want to visit this temple because of French Fry Box Cat.

I know a serious political blogger would be writing a piece right now all about how Taiwan can't be compared to Afghanistan, but honestly, I think that conclusion is so obvious that it's truly beneath me. The US failed at nation-building. Taiwan is already a functioning nation with a competent government that enjoys rule of law. The two countries are so different as to be utterly incomparable, so let us talk about something else because I simply cannot with that particular story. 

Now that that's off my chest: Taoyuan!

I still maintain that while greater Taoyuan has some attractions, Taoyuan as a city is not particularly interesting. But, there are still a few things to interest the casual visitor. Most notably, the well-preserved Japanese-era temple at the Taoyuan Martyrs' Shrine and Cultural Park (桃園忠烈祠暨神社文化園區), on a hill at #200, Section 3 Chenggong Road (成功路三段200號). 

This particular temple, built in 1938, is astoundingly intact: in fact, it's the most intact Shinto shrine in all of Taiwan. It's a rare example of preservation of Japanese cultural influence rather than intentional destruction, although to be sure the "martyrs" now enshrined here are certainly not Japanese.

You can get there from Taoyuan Train Station by taking a taxi for less than NT$200, and there are a few buses that go up the hill. My recommendation is to take the taxi up and the bus back. There are also buses from Taipei City (buses 9069 and 9069A both run between Nanjing Fuxing MRT and Taoyuan Veterans' General Hospital, next door to the shrine) and transport to and from Taoyuan HSR, though it takes awhile. 

Most Shinto shrines and other Japanese cultural relics in Taiwan were either destroyed, "left to the elements" to rot naturally, or occupied as civil servant dormitories for years after the ROC colonial regime took over from the Japanese one. Those that survived into the 1970s, were torn down right around then. This particular shrine was slated for demolition in the 1980s, but by then consciousness of Taiwanese history could be spoken about more than during the worst years of the White Terror, and a public outcry saved it. It was renovated in 1986, designated as a Level 3 historic site in 1994, and underwent renovations again around 2017, which also happened to be the first time I tried to see it.

            

The site offers several pavilions with beautifully gabled roofs -- including a ritual washing (misogi) pavilion, a shrine office with a distinctly Japanese portico, a main temple and a hondono supported by wooden pillars with copper tile and "turtle belly" decoration, though it's not open to the public. The temple itself is still a martyrs' shrine, and indoor photography is prohibited. 

Also of note is the intact torii, the traditional gate, and a bronze horse (for more on the bronze horses of Taiwan, read Taipei, City of Displacements. This particular horse even gets a mention). These horses were common in Taiwan and some other Japanese colonies. Interestingly, they all look quite similar, but don't seem to be common in Japan.

  


The brochure says they "symbolize the ride of the gods between the divine sanctuary and the mortal world", though of greater interest to me was the shrine's emblem engraved on the side, which has in fact endured a great deal of wear. 

With gorgeous greenery and beautifully restored buildings, local residents come up here for fresh air -- we met some folks with their cats in boxes -- and it's a popular spot for cosplay photography. I recommend coming early, as the shrine closes early -- 5pm, to be precise. 

There's a 7-11 nearby where you can grab water or call a taxi, and almost directly across the street on the way to the bus stop, you'll find an exceptionally hip cafe called Luna (鹿點咖啡), which has two floors of excruciatingly fashionable shabby-chic seating. They also sell coffee beans and high-quality insulated coffee thermoses. It's an excellent place to spend a lot of money for quality (and ultra-hip) coffee while you figure out when the bus you want will arrive. 

It's hard to figure out if this place is deer-themed (implied from the Chinese name) or moon-themed (from the English name) so I can only suppose it intends to be both.

If you're in Taoyuan and near the train station, don't forget to check out the amazing storefront of HN Nail, and the odd "vampire" building across the street. HN Nail can be found at #150 Fuxing Road (復興路150號) within walking distance of the station, and the creepy "vampire building" is directly across the street. 

HN Nail features in a book about interesting Taiwanese facades:

...but it doesn't say much other than that the idea of using large 3D signage to advertise what your business offers originated in Japan. There are other examples in Taiwan, usually of the crustacean variety. There's a great one of a lobster or crayfish in Kaohsiung:


                   


It's fun, the neighborhood is fairly lively and pleasant to walk around in, and it's very close to a transport hub. 

And the area has some interesting signage as well: