BEIPU

Most visitors begin their walk through Beipu in front of the Citian Temple.Just outside the temple, the stone-paved street slopes gently — one end leads to Beipu Street, the other fans out toward Nanxing Street and Chengmen Street.These three roads unfold like the ribs of a fan, revealing the texture and layers of the old town.

Bustling vendors line the plaza in front of the temple, and within just a few dozen meters, you’ll see buildings from the Qing Dynasty, the Japanese era, and even the postwar period — each quietly telling its own story, peacefully coexisting without conflict.

Scenes like this have become rare in Taiwan.

Most towns and villages in Taiwan have their own origin stories — and Beipu’s story begins with frontier settlement.

In 1834, during the 14th year of Emperor Daoguang’s reign, the Jin Guang Fu Company established a base here, marking the starting point of development into the southeastern mountain forests.

That same year, Jiang Xiuluan led a group of Hakka settlers into the mountains. They built defenses and slowly pushed deeper into the forest.This journey tells a century-long story of Hakka people living side by side with the mountains and land in the southeastern region of Zhujian (Hsinchu).

Beipu｜History

You may chance upon an old well standing quietly by the roadside, as if guarding the memories of the past.Around the corner, the view suddenly opens up — surprises unfold one after another.

In the soft light of dawn or under the golden glow of sunset, walking along these century-old paths feels like tracing the footsteps of forgotten stories.Every brick and tile, every scene and object here gently whispers of Beipu’s age-old warmth, pulling your thoughts back to a time of early settlement and quiet resilience.

Beipu, once known as “Da-ai,” was originally a defensive settlement.

In those early days, land development was harsh — walls had to be built, and guard posts established. From that need for protection, the village gradually took shape.

Strolling through the residential alleys behind Citian Temple feels like stepping into a secret place frozen in time.

The once-layered defensive homes now form winding lanes, exuding stillness and mystery.Narrow stone paths curve gently; timeworn red brick and earth walls bear marks of age, and moss quietly climbs over rooftiles and stone steps — every corner whispers of history’s depth.

In Beipu, breakfast often begins with ban — the traditional rice-based dishes of the Hakka people.

Frugal and respectful of every grain, the Hakka have long honored rice with care and creativity, day after day.

A pot of rice and a pair of hands become smooth white shui ban, savory rice dumplings (zongzi), and delicate vegetable-filled buns.

Simple, yet never careless.The first aroma to fill the street is the Hakka zongzi — sticky rice tightly wrapped around salted pork, mushrooms, and peanuts. When boiled, the scent thickens the morning air.

One bite, and it’s chewy, rich, and deeply satisfying.Then comes the shui ban — steamed rice paste turned into soft, tofu-like cakes. Sprinkled with pickled radish and garlic, finished with a drizzle of soy paste, it’s silky, savory, and speaks of a flavor only the morning understands.

Morning in Beipu carries a gentle kind of moisture.

It’s not the dampness of mountain mist, nor the heaviness of thick fog — but a warm, rising steam, like the kind that escapes from bamboo steamers, mingling with the scent of rice as it drifts through the corners of the street.If you wake up early enough, you’ll notice the street vendors already quietly lighting their stoves.

Stacks of steamers are neatly arranged, and the moment a bamboo lid is lifted, the whole street feels like it’s just woken from a dream.

Beipu｜Food

You don’t come to Beipu to eat a lot —

you come to understand what you eat.

To understand a bowl of ban is to understand the way of life here:

frugal, but never careless; simple, yet full of care.

Just like this mountain town —

quiet, unassuming, but full of stories.

And then, there’s the vegetable bun.

Its skin is delightfully chewy without being greasy, wrapped around a generous filling of stir-fried shredded radish. The flavor is delicate — a gentle balance of sweet and savory. Simple, yet quietly profound. For locals, these ban-style foods are just breakfast. But for travelers, they are like a window — a glimpse into a way of life. Beipu’s cuisine is unadorned, yet deeply thoughtful: the rice must be fresh, the vegetables crisp, the hands steady, the heart calm. To make a single ban is to practice living — kneading daily life into rice, then gently steaming it, layer by layer.