Hundreds of them were built during the wars and then became forgotten landmarks
Taiwan's shelters fortified the island against invaders
Tunnels connect bunkers to each other.
Archive - «New York Times».
The gate to one of the bunkers has been recently decorated.
Archive - «New York Times».
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Hundreds of years of preparation for war left an imprint on the island of Taiwan, represented by thousands of shelters, some of which are being converted into cultural spaces.
Visitors to Keelung, a mountain city on Taiwan's northern coast, might think the white wall behind Shi Hui's breakfast shop is just a wall.
And only a few vent holes indicate that there might be something on the other side.
"It's a bomb shelter," Hui says as she waits for customers in the morning. "Because we're Keelung residents, we know these kinds of places."
"It is a space for life and a space for death," she added.
And down the street where the restaurant is located and many other places in Keelung - which suffered its first foreign attack by the Dutch in 1642 - the scenery has been altered for camouflage.
The restaurants are connected to the underground passages.
The rusty gates lead to dark places filled with memories of war, sometimes with rubbish or bats.
There are about 700 bomb shelters in the city of 360,000 people, prompting officials to say Keelung has more heavily fortified hiding places than anywhere else in Taiwan.
For a team of urban planners, artists and history buffs, Keelung Shelters has become a canvas for creative urban renewal.
Fortified places
Some of these “havens” have been recast as cultural spaces.
But these fortified places are not just impressive ruins;
On a self-governing island that China considers part of and plans to reclaim, it is also vital infrastructure.
Most of the bunkers were designed and built by Japan, which ruled Taiwan from 1895 until the end of World War II, when Keelung was the target of bombing.
The shelters surrounding Hoy's are in one of the oldest parts of town, below a hillside park with an elevator.
One of its entrances will soon be a walk through a cavern with winding tunnels that, until recently, was used as a warehouse for the fire department.
One morning, it looked more like an art gallery or a nightclub.
Bars of lights hugged the damp walls, shimmering on the green buds, the only color under the ground.
Concrete floors with drainage mechanisms have been laid on both sides.
City insurance
Hung Chih Shin, 33, a public servant with the urban planning department in Keelung, says that city officials first considered opening the space and making it a restaurant, and then decided they didn't want to destroy the original structure.
City shelters are not easy to manage;
But documents have been found showing that this bunker was built in the 19th century, towards the end of the Qing Dynasty's rule over Taiwan.
It was one of the many tunnels and bunkers built in the era, when China, weakened by famine and rebellion, was struggling to gain control of territory.
In 1884, for example, the French invaded Keelung, holding the city for about a year until the imperial commissioner for Taiwan, Liu Ming-chuan, expelled the French forces.
Shortly thereafter, in order to better secure the city, the commissioner ordered the construction of the first railway tunnel, in Taiwan, through Mount Shikuling, a natural barrier separating Keelung from Taipei.
The tunnel was opened in 1890, and it was decided to reopen and renovate it recently.
On a recent tour, Ko Lea, who heads the cultural heritage department in Keelung, explained that the restoration effort is complex and has involved running small cameras over the tunnel to measure the strength of the roof.
She hopes it will eventually be connected to local walking trails and routes.
"We want people to know the history, to know how the bunkers helped protect Keelung," she added.
Standing in the tunnel, with new bricks of bright orange mixed with old gray stone, she spoke of the history, but acknowledged that the tunnel could also protect people in another conflict.
For many in Keelung, past and present threats are unclear.
In recent months, China has increased the frequency and intensity of military exercises off the coast of Taiwan.
China's leader, Xi Jinping, has also become more vocal about unity with Taiwan, reserving the right to use force.
• Keelung has more heavily fortified hiding places than anywhere else in Taiwan.
humor
At the Puffer Fish restaurant in Keelung, which is originally an underground bomb shelter, tourists sitting at wooden tables take pictures of the interior.
But locals prefer "pessimistic" humour.
"Many people told me that if a war breaks out, they will come to my restaurant," said Miao Hsu-ching, the 34-year-old owner of the restaurant. "They are sure that we will still serve food!"
Growing up in Keelung, Miao felt it was unfortunate that many of the abandoned shelters were littered with rubbish and ignored.
For generations, children in Keelung have frightened each other with stories of ghosts in the dugouts, and of dead soldiers.
The prime mover
“It is important to renovate them (the shelters), and to connect them with the surrounding areas,” says Miao Hsu-ching, a restaurant owner.
Wang Chih, 53, a painter in Keelung, took up the task.
A few years ago, he and 50 local residents installed four blast-proof walls in front of shelters on one of the city's many hills. A well known temple in the city.
It took him six months to complete the paintings on the white tiles.
Now, the walls of the bunkers have become a tourist attraction and a landmark of pride.
“Civil society was the main driver of renewal,” Wang says. “The younger generation was able to reflect on the past when the older generation was playing - or even hiding - inside."
Shi Hui prepares food in her restaurant. "The New York Times"
Strawberry jelly
For some, the fondness for shelters seems strange.
Shi Hui, owner of a breakfast shop, said she saw a snake in the store, behind the storage room, and had no intention of going there, even if the missiles started to fall.
She said the Keelung shelters should be fundamentally renovated to make the young men, whom she called the "strawberry generation", pay more attention to tensions with China that might force them to fight or go into hiding.
For some of its neighbours, the bunkers are a reminder of their past.
A few doors down from her shop, Huo Hsiang, 91, sat in the shop where he made rubber stamps before retiring.
He spoke of the Americans bombing Keelung in 1944 and 1945, recalling the shock of the bombs he heard while hiding in a nearby bunker.
He said he slept in a tunnel at night, and lived in another, during the day.
He was just a boy in the fifth grade, but the memory made him smile;
Shelter rescued him.
“It was the only safe place she had to be,” he said.
The bunkers are full of people.”
Later, Hsiang and his wife spent summer nights in artificial caves, hiding from the heat.
They shared food and drink, and talked to friends.
"It was like the air conditioner there," he said.
His wife, Wang Chen, stood behind him, and laughed in approval.
But when asked if they could imagine returning to the shelters in the event of another attack, they both frowned.
Wang Chen, then, began to shout;
"We are Taiwanese, and we have nothing to do with China," she said.
Then she spoke quietly: “We don't know when the bombs will come.
We hope it never falls.”
Huo Hsiang at the shop where he made rubber stamps. Archive - «The New York Times»
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