From military base to civilian life: Exploring the military-civilian city of Fengshan │ Discover the fun in Kaohsiung!

Our impression of Fengshan might be the traces of its old town and ancient temples, or its modern districts.

Yet the largest part of Fengshan is occupied by the most strictly regulated military academies and related military facilities.

Just like Longgang in Taoyuan, Fengshan is also a town where military and civilians live side by side and develop together.
From morning markets, the back hills, military dependents’ villages, local cuisine, to former military zones—let’s get to know the military-civilian side of Fengshan!
By Listen Travel

The invisible walls have come down.

Our impression of Fengshan might be the traces of its old town and ancient temples, such as Longshan Temple and Fengyi Academy;

or perhaps its modern areas, like the Dadong Art Center and the opera house built within the Wujicamp area;
However, the largest part of Fengshan is occupied by the most strictly regulated military academies and military-related facility zones.

Therefore, just like Longgang in Taoyuan, Fengshan is also a town where military and civilians live side by side and develop together.
From morning markets, the back hills, military dependents’ villages, local cuisine, to former military zones—let’s get to know the military-civilian side of Fengshan!

Soldiers' Market (Fengshan First Retail Market)
Originally, the so-called Soldiers' Market was named for the market where soldiers would come in the morning to buy groceries.

Its characteristics include a large market scale and proximity to major military bases.

One such market is the HaUp Market in Zuoying, and another is located in Fengshan—it’s the largest first retail market in the area,

and it also has a history of over 100 years.

My mother used to live in Dalinpu, and the nearest big vegetable market she remembered was this one.

This time, in order to capture scenes of soldiers and residents shopping, I arrived early at six a.m. (the time when soldiers get up to shop).
The faded signs bear witness to the history and stories of Fengshan’s Soldiers' Market.
To experience the local vibe of the morning market, you must wake up early. Arriving at the Soldiers' Market at six is when the market and the entire area wake up and start buzzing. Vegetable and meat vendors open one after another; some breakfast shops also begin bustling with activity.

Another reason for coming to the market early is to explore what locals eat for breakfast.

I didn’t visit the well-known Fengshan Rice Vermicelli Shop that was already open nearby; instead, there was another type of food stall that was very active in the market—plain congee with side dishes. I found four such stalls in the market, each packed with diners.

I casually chose one, picked some dishes, found a seat, and sat down.

Three dishes, a bowl of not-overly-soft rice, and a self-serve clear soup—all for just 25 NT dollars!
(Dishes are priced on the spot; small bowl of rice 5 NT, soup is free.)

Eating in the market isn’t just cheap, diverse, and filling—it also gives you the chance to truly experience the sights and sounds around you.

At this moment, you’re not an outsider awkwardly standing on the roadside with a camera. You can naturally observe and take in every interesting detail of the market: shoppers casually stroll up to the vegetable stands, deftly pick out their choices with a plate, chat with the vendor for a bit, then sit down next to you to eat.

The glances of passersby, conversations between vendors and locals, and the rapidly shifting light and shadows of the old street in the morning.

Whether you're from out of town or a local from Kaohsiung or Fengshan, I highly recommend visiting Fengshan First Market early in the morning to soak up the vibrant energy of this traditional market and enjoy a hearty local breakfast. It's a perfect way to start your trip to Fengshan.

Phoenix Mountain

Locals might call it "Hen Mountain" ("鸡母山"), but this so-called "mountain" is actually the gently rolling hills behind the Army Academy and the Chung Cheng Preparatory School.

To this day, it remains a training and firing range for military academies, though most areas see little use. As a result, it has been open to locals for leisure and exercise for over a decade.

Over the past ten years, numerous paths have been worn into these hills, and the remarkable self-driven efforts of the local retired residents have transformed what was once a secretive military training ground into what feels like a suburban nature park.

A map of Phoenix Mountain — you can take a photo of it for reference.

There are many forks in the trails inside, so if it’s your first time, it’s best to visit when it’s crowded and the weather is pleasant.
(Early morning until sunrise ~10:00 AM; Afternoon 3:00 PM until sunset)

Once you step in, you’ll immediately see many military training facilities, including field bases, command posts, guard posts, and trenches, most of which are now overgrown.

The trails on Phoenix Mountain mostly look like this.
Though called a “mountain,” it actually resembles the various small hills you’d find in a park.

There are no overly steep paths (unless you take shortcuts);
The many elderly locals you’ll pass along the way are proof that this mountain is truly suitable for all ages.

Pick a random path, and you’ll soon come across small and large military shooting ranges, while residents casually walk by.

In fact, some parts of Phoenix Mountain, due to their proximity to firing ranges, have signs (but no fences) indicating restricted access hours.
When you see a sign, just ask someone who walks by often—they usually know better than the sign itself which areas are actually okay to enter.

Over the decade, soldiers and civilians have developed a habit of interaction and a tacit understanding about how to share the space.

On the ridge, you’ll see various shelters and tables and chairs,
all built by the locals themselves.

This area was gradually created by a group of retired teachers who planted trees, set up water supplies, and made tables and chairs. Starting with just two or three people, others gradually joined in, forming a community that built a tea-drinking and leisure base on the mountain.

When I visited, the warm-hearted teachers even invited me to have tea and snacks.

"This place is even better than a park!" they said.
"Because it’s natural, not much damaged. And we built it, we take care of it," they said confidently.

Phoenix Mountain is also famous for its great views; the opening to the east offers sights of Daliao, Pingtung, and on clear days, you can even see Beidawushan in the distance. To the west, you can gaze at the urban landscape of Kaohsiung, with the iconic 85 Sky Tower.

Looking beside the teachers’ rest area, you’ll see a more frequently used firing range—there are no obvious paths leading to this part.
Here, soldiers and civilians have interestingly divided the area naturally, each staying on their side without interfering.

Just past a small group’s base, as you turn to another hilltop, you’ll suddenly come upon a larger one, used by even more people.
The sign at this base is in white with red letters: “Huangpu Military Academy Volunteers’ Rest Stop.”

On Phoenix Mountain, you’ll see many middle-aged and elderly people exercising, chatting with friends. My visit happened to be on a weekday, and while the city’s working adults were busy at their jobs, I unexpectedly found a different kind of liveliness and energy on this suburban mountain.

Empty guard posts and frequently passing residents are a common sight on Phoenix Mountain—a suburban nature park with a military theme.

Back at the foot of the mountain, these trees were all planted by local residents. At the summit, you’ll see groups of people bustling about in the woods; others are growing vegetables around the mountain. Thanks to ten years of dedication and care by the community, Phoenix Mountain has taken on a distinctly different look.

Phoenix Mountain is full of interesting details—about military facilities, about the efforts and vibrancy of the local people. Visiting in the early morning or late evening offers the best views of the forest’s play of light. When you come here, it’s best not to come with preconceived expectations. Let the surprises unfold naturally, and you’ll discover the genuine emotions it stirs within you.

Whampoa New Village — Taiwan’s First Military Dependents’ Village

Whampoa New Village, known as Taiwan’s first military dependents’ village, is the only one in Fengshan that has been preserved.
The houses, roads, and overall layout are actually continuations of the officer dormitories from the Japanese era.

At the time, General Sun Li-jen took a liking to Fengshan’s vast military bases, land, and dormitories, and thus established the Whampoa Military Academy along with its associated dormitories and Chengzheng Elementary School in Fengshan. It was initially named “Chengzheng New Village.”

The residents of Whampoa New Village were all high-ranking officers under General Sun’s command; when the Sun Li-jen Incident occurred, it also caused quite a stir in the village.

From American-drawn maps of Taiwan during the Japanese rule, you can clearly see the circular Fengshan Telecom Station we’ll visit later, as well as a neat block of military barracks to the south—that is today’s Army Academy and Whampoa New Village.

Every military dependents’ village has a grand entrance archway, and Whampoa New Village’s is arguably the largest among all such villages in Taiwan—giving you an idea of its significance.

The row of coconut palms at the back forms the village’s main thoroughfare, leading all the way to the entrance of Chengzheng Elementary School. Neatly aligned houses line both sides—these are layouts and designs continued and updated from the Japanese era.

The size of the houses here is larger than the familiar bamboo-fenced homes, and some resemble Japanese-style dormitories.
In particular, the ventilation windows above and the standing chimneys are distinctive features of Whampoa New Village houses; of course, there’s more than just that.

The elevated wooden flooring, ventilated windows at the base of the houses, and the overall layout and entrance designs,
are all characteristic of traditional Japanese residential architecture.

Today, only some of the houses in the village retain their original layouts and architectural features. According to local accounts, these houses with Japanese-era residential styles will be the main ones preserved, while those that were demolished, damaged, or rebuilt are not included in the conservation plan.

The walls and gates have undergone multiple changes and accumulations over different periods.

The white pedestal at the front is said to be the gateposts from a Japanese residence, while those who moved in later enclosed the interior and turned it into the entrance for three households.

The dependents’ village is home to many plants, which bloom differently with the seasons.
This reflects the changing of the seasons and adds pleasant greenery to the village.

Currently, most of the houses in Whampoa New Village have been vacated. In September, the Kaohsiung Cultural Affairs Bureau announced a “Live-in Conservation” initiative, inviting people from all walks of life to move into Whampoa New Village, hoping to create a lifestyle hub akin to the Pier-2 Art Center, filled with the charm of a military dependents’ village.

Come next spring, the village will welcome a “new spring” look—stay tuned!

Chengzheng Elementary School — Beneath the Old Trees, Nostalgia for School Days

The story of Chengzheng Elementary School is closely tied to Whampoa New Village.
It originated as “Chengzheng Primary School,” established by General Sun Li-jen during China’s wartime turmoil to provide education for the children of army officers and orphans.

When the army stationed in Fengshan, a site next to Whampoa New Village was chosen to reopen the school, continuing to serve not only the children of Whampoa New Village but also those from many other military dependents’ villages.

For those born and raised in Fengshan’s military dependents’ villages, Chengzheng Elementary School remains an unforgettable part of their childhood memories.
Later, Chengzheng Elementary School was taken over by the government. In recent years, the sharp decline in the military dependents’ village population has also impacted the school, leading to the threat of closure.

The campus is known as a “forest elementary school” because of the many flowers, plants, and trees planted throughout.
Locals love the lush old trees, enjoy exercising on the newly renovated playground, and often gather under the shade of the trees to chat.

Nowadays, it’s no longer possible to tell whether the children attending school come from military families. In this unregulated school—and for nearby residents—it has become a place of rest. The unique background of Chengzheng seems to have faded invisibly into a few slogans on the wall.

Wang Shengming Road — an old commercial district tied to military dependents

Adjacent to Huangpu New Village, the Army Officer Academy, and the Zhongzheng Preparatory School, Wang Shengming Road was once the most bustling street in the vicinity of military bases and military dependents' villages.

The area featured eateries related to military dependents' culture, military supply stores, old-fashioned tailor shops, vintage shoe stores, traditional barbershops, as well as numerous entertainment venues such as snack bars in hybrid KTVs and pool tables — all businesses closely linked to the soldiers from nearby barracks and military villages.

A marketplace emerged to meet every kind of demand, giving this road a distinctly different atmosphere compared to the downtown area of Fengshan City. The symbiotic environment between military personnel and civilians extended from the military villages into the commercial district and even the local cuisine.

We found a popular eatery for lunch — areas near military villages often host food spots with ties to that community.

Though the shop owner wasn’t from a military dependents' village, their life was closely intertwined with that of the villagers.
Upon hearing we were visiting Huangpu New Village, he shared stories about the village and how it relates to his shop, as well as its current situation.
Some residents never left and still visit the shop occasionally.

The sign reads “Zhejiang,” but the shop’s specialties are “Wenzhou wontons” and pork rib dishes.

Many people might imagine an off-mainland Chinese noodle shop serving things like pastries, dumplings, or beef noodles... but actually, the food culture in military dependents' villages is far more diverse.

The population in these villages came from all over China. With strong neighborly bonds, they learned to cook each other’s regional dishes, using limited ingredients while incorporating Taiwanese flavors. Through this multicultural blending, like rivers flowing into the vast ocean of Taiwanese cuisine, the tastes and habits of the military villages have become part of our everyday lives.

Fengshan Telecom Station — emerging from the shadowy walls of a somber white past

On Google Maps, there’s a distinct circular plot of land on the eastern side of Fengshan.
At the center of this plot, the cultural asset is officially named: “Former Japanese Navy Fengshan Telecom Station.”

Locals, however, know it as the “Navy Mingde Disciplinary Training Class.” Since World War II, this site has been used by various entities for classified military activities such as intelligence gathering, censorship, interrogation, and imprisonment. For nearly a century, it remained shrouded in mystery and seclusion — only recently, after being abandoned and opened to the public, has its dark history truly come to light.

Looking at the three historical phases of Fengshan Telecom Station:

The first phase was the Japanese Navy Fengshan Telecom Station. During WWII, as Japan expanded its territory and prepared for its southward military campaign, it constructed three of the most advanced telecommunications facilities of the time. Two were in Japan, and the third is the bunker and compound you see here — together forming the backbone of Japan’s military communications.

Today, the two stations in Japan have been almost entirely destroyed, leaving Fengshan as the world’s only surviving remnant of Japan’s WWII-era telecom station, which is why it garners significant attention. Beyond transmitting telegrams to the front lines, the station also intercepted enemy communications, thus functioning as an intelligence hub. Facilities for detaining and interrogating suspects were set up here, and thanks to the subsequent takeover by the Nationalist government, these structures were preserved.

The second phase was the Fengshan Guesthouse, euphemistically called a “guesthouse,” but in reality, it was where the navy secretly conducted military tribunals — a period known as the “Navy White Terror.” At the time, infighting within the Nationalist government, poor governance, and many officers’ longing for home led to a widespread trend of officers and soldiers “defecting to the Communists.”

To restore discipline and suppress the defection wave, large-scale purges were carried out. Fengshan Telecom Station became a site for secret detention and trials. Thanks to testimonies from recent survivors, we now have a more complete picture of how the station functioned and how its spaces were arranged. Historians continue to piece together this history today.

One of the office buildings includes a restored section of the navy’s “Ordinary Cell” used during the White Terror era.
Inside, there was no actual lighting. Every day consisted of bleak cell life and endless interrogations, taking a heavy toll on detainees’ mental states.

The third phase was the half-century-long Navy Mingde Training Class.

In an era when every man served in the military, those who disobeyed orders, rebelled, struggled with addiction, or had psychological issues — ranging from minor infractions to serious offenses before military trials — were sent to the Mingde Training Class. It was the final disciplinary measure before being handed over to a military court.

Perhaps every man who has served in Taiwan’s military has heard rumors about the Mingde Training Class. But much about that history remains obscure. Locals only knew about the shouts and cries heard from within during the quiet of night.

After the training class was disbanded in 2001, the site was closed and abandoned for many years. It wasn’t until 2010, when it was designated a cultural asset, that its sealed doors began to reopen slowly.

Across Victory Road lies the original entrance to the Navy Mingde Training Class, preserved just as it was.

Without the explanatory plaques, most people might assume this place has always been a military base.
Inside the gate, a screen wall is inscribed with the words “Eternal Loyalty.” Once you pass through this gate, you enter a world cut off from the rest of society.

Upon entering the compound, on the right-hand side, you’ll see cement blocks taller than a person.

There are a total of three cement blocks arranged in a ring within the park, while outside the park, the circular platforms you see were originally scattered with various sizes of cement bases. However, today only some remnants can be found in the farmland to the east.

Each base once supported an iron tower, which were connected by steel cables from the outer towers all the way to those inside the park, ultimately converging at the central tower located at the heart of the circle—next to the large bunker.

From the distribution of the bases, you can imagine the once-magnificent sight of a vast matrix of iron towers standing tall, resembling a massive Stonehenge in the area.

To your left, the first long, brick building is the office quarters—one of the structures built during the Japanese era.

During the “White Terror period of the Navy,” it served as interrogation rooms and prison cells, including both the “regular” and “special” sections.
In the “Mingde period,” it functioned as the camp’s office.

The long space is divided into several compartments, each connected by doors to the outer corridor. Equipment related to each era has been removed, except for one room restored and exhibited by the government, showcasing the “regular” section of the “White Terror period of the Navy.” However, the exhibit blocks the windows, and with almost no lighting throughout the park, a flashlight is necessary to view it clearly.

Another structure, Zhongshan Hall, was painted in bright colors on its doors, windows, and columns when opened as part of the cultural park, making it especially eye-catching within the site. Records indicate it was not built during the Japanese era. The interior is a large, unopened space, which is expected to be used for events in the future.

Another treasure within the park is the old Japanese brick water tower.
Inside, there is also a boiler for heating water. As for its purpose, it was likely used to meet the accommodation needs within the park.
The red bricks above are neatly and intricately arranged in a circular pattern, remaining remarkably sturdy even after nearly a hundred years.

A close-up was taken of the large lattice girders inside the water tower, which support the weight of the stored water.

The Large Bunker

The large bunker is the largest and most iconic building of the telecommunications station, and it is also a surviving example of Japanese military architecture from World War II.
It consists of three semi-cylindrical concrete structures covered with thick earthen mounds and planted trees to guard against reconnaissance and bombing by the Allied forces.

During the Japanese era, it was an extremely confidential telecommunications facility; in the White Terror period of the Navy, it was a harsher “cave” compared to the “regular” prison cells; and during the Mingde period, it served as a military barracks and storage warehouse.

Today, all facilities inside have been removed, leaving only the building’s shell.

From the entrance, you can faintly make out the shape of the large bunker. It was likely camouflaged with paint that has since faded, revealing the original brick color.

From this distance, you can see the circular vents and the steel-plate-protected doors and windows. The bunker remains structurally intact and true to its original form, which is astonishing considering the durability of the construction back then.

The thick steel plates protect the doors and windows, and even the surrounding brick walls are sufficiently thick, demonstrating the bunker’s sturdiness and its significant military role, with layers of protection concealing heavy secrets.

Upon closer inspection, each structural vent for external ventilation was likely also equipped with protective devices.
Looking carefully around the vents, even the detailed brickwork is exquisitely crafted.

A homemade model of the large bunker created after returning home shows that its interior consists of three semi-cylindrical structures connected by a central passage.
It is dark, stern, rigid, and yet has a grand, almost cathedral-like landscape—making it a paradise for photography enthusiasts. Today, during the holiday afternoon, four or five groups visited, showing its popularity.

Essentially, the interior still lacks electricity and lighting but has been cleaned up.
Although it is well-lit and photos come out bright, it is best to bring a flashlight when visiting, especially for Area A.

Area A is divided into upper and lower spaces by durable cedar wood flooring. Half of it was destroyed by fire in a certain year, leaving the charred structure behind. However, the unburned, nearly century-old cedar flooring and stairs remain surprisingly solid.

On the first floor of Area A, half the area was damaged by fire, and the scorched wood has not been cleared to this day. I believe this might be the only place in all of Kaohsiung where the complete, unremoved fire-damaged structure is preserved.

Area B is divided into upper and lower levels by brick structures: the lower level is split into several compartments, which are pitch-dark due to lack of light, making it intimidating to explore alone.

The upper level can be reached by taking the stairs from the entrance of Area A and then turning left through the corridor.

The layout suggests this might have been the core space for telecommunications intelligence operations back then, but all the equipment has vanished, leaving only the exhaust fan above the central circular opening and an intriguing blackboard. The doorways on both sides lead to adjacent areas A and C.

Area C is the most spectacular — a two-story, cathedral-like open space large enough to park three tanks in.
Above, you can still see the overhead cranes and tracks used for work in those days, along with slogans from the Mingde era when it served as a warehouse.

The connecting space in the middle of the cylinder, aside from having doors for access, features six or seven ventilation holes on each wall — this was the indoor air-conditioning design of the time.

In addition to linking the functions of the three spaces, it also maintained airflow and temperature balance.

Apart from the main bunker, the telecom station also had another smaller bunker whose purpose remains unclear.
Inside the small bunker is a semi-cylindrical space with a relatively low ceiling, resembling an air-raid shelter. With no windows, it’s quite dim inside.

Outside the small bunker, a large banyan tree clings to its structure, surrounded by neatly trimmed lawns. If you set aside the dark history of the telecom station, the site actually has huge old trees and well-maintained lawns — perfect for recreational activities.

Solitary confinement room

Further inside, past another guard post behind the Fengshan Telecom Station, lies a cluster of buildings that make up the solitary confinement area.

Each building was mostly constructed during the Japanese era, though their original use is unknown. It’s fairly certain they were used as solitary confinement rooms during the Mingde Disciplinary Training Class period.

Being denied leave while serving in the military is bad enough, but worse still is being locked in a stuffy, crudely equipped solitary confinement cell for days on end.

This solitary confinement room, known as the single-person cell, contains only a ventilation window, a cement chair, and two openings that appear to be latrine pits.
Beneath the heavy iron door is a food slot. It’s hard to imagine spending time confined here — unable to speak, do anything, or even bathe properly.

Solitary confinement has now been abolished, and the cells in the park are partly open to the public, allowing them to witness and imagine such confinement.

The walls still retain soft padding from those times to prevent injuries to detainees.

The detoxification rooms mainly housed those with smoking or drug addictions, or individuals who were unruly and engaged in self-harming behavior. At the time, all men were conscripted, regardless of their circumstances, which led to the establishment of the Mingde Training Class.

Another, larger detoxification room has a bunker-like exterior, with its interior fully padded to prevent self-injury.

These spaces may bring a heavy heart, but there's no denying they really existed.
Just like preserving sites of Nazi persecution against Jews, such as Auschwitz, the opening of the Fengshan Telecom Station aims to let many people understand Taiwan’s painful history, in hopes of preventing the repetition of similar tragedies.

Navy Radio Station

Shaped like a cross, the navy radio station served continuously from the Japanese era through the Mingde period as a telecom and radio facility until it was abandoned in 2001.

During the Japanese era, it was outwardly referred to as a military hospital, but in reality, it was the second telecommunications station (the main one being the large bunker). In the Mingde era, it functioned as the Fengshan Transmitting Station of the Zuoying Naval Communication Base, and was the second most important building in the area.

To reach the radio station within the park, you must pass through yet another guard post.
Security is extremely tight, yet the place feels relatively serene and lush with greenery.

No mistake — Taiwan truly has places with the weighty mystery of high-security fortresses straight out of the movies.
This massive concrete structure has every opening reinforced with astonishingly thick steel plates for protection.

The incredibly thick doorway — estimated at 20 centimeters — is even heftier than the main bunker’s, resembling a bank vault door.
Without thick layers of earth for protection, sheer structural thickness had to serve as defense against external attacks.

The emblem on the ground reflects the site’s former ownership, much like the crest of a noble mansion.
Right now, it really feels like stepping into a highly classified location, as if preparing to face a big boss.

Although the important internal machinery has been removed, the central distribution panel and control console remain, standing proudly at the heart of the cruciform building like a church or lecture hall.

This was my first time entering such a fortress-like space. The staircase on the right leads down to where the cables were installed.

The remaining power generation structures inside the radio station include the overhead crane and ventilation equipment.

The entire radio station was equipped with its own power generation facilities, independently supplying electricity for its operations.
Therefore, there’s no need to worry about the station becoming inoperable if external power is disrupted.

Be careful where you step, as there are cable trenches on the ground. The cables themselves have long since disappeared.

Before leaving the telecom station, I happened to glance at the graffiti on the wall, which made me realize that the station’s bleak past is truly behind it.

It is now one of only two “National Historic Sites” in Fengshan. Considering that all of Kaohsiung has only five such sites, this highlights how much the government values the existence of the Fengshan Telecom Station.

But ultimately, due to budget constraints and its closed-off, gloomy background, it’s hard for it to resonate with the surrounding community...
As a result, the site has not yet been properly developed and continues to maintain its former image of being abandoned and off-limits.

What the Fengshan Telecom Station needs now is more activities and visitors, rather than letting it remain submerged in its past image. Originally open only on Saturdays and Sundays, it now welcomes visitors every day except Tuesday.

Don’t forget to stay safe and explore the mysterious background of this base with curiosity and stories in mind.

Around the Fengshan Telecom Station

The original grounds of the Fengshan Telecom Station included not just the site itself, but also the surrounding signal-receiving towers. Today, remnants of the old tower locations can still be seen.

After exploring the core circular area, you might feel a bit weighed down, so it’s recommended to exit through the main gate and walk into the alley on the left between the elementary school and the telecom station.

Passing the noisy playground of the elementary school and the outer wall of the telecom station, you’ll suddenly find yourself in a wide-open space — a rare expanse of farmland in crowded Fengshan. The aerial view shows the fields radiating outward from the center like spokes on a wheel, which is quite fascinating.

A rural path winds halfway around, passing through the open farmland — a great spot for biking, jogging, enjoying the fields, meeting farmers, and watching the sunset. Even more interesting are the scattered black concrete foundations of the old telecom towers spread across the farmland — some of the few remaining remnants of the outer tower bases.

Originally, the area around the telecom station housed the largest military dependents’ village in all of Kaohsiung, but most of it has now been demolished.
During my visit, the last remaining old village area was fenced off with metal sheets, and the sound of excavators digging filled the air. In the end, only the telecom station survived in the area; the rest of the land is said to be turned into new housing, transforming the landscape into something unrecognizable to those who once knew it.

Will the unique circular layout of the telecom station and these scattered concrete foundations in the farmland ultimately be lucky enough to survive?

After spending several days exploring Fengshan, I’ve come to discover another side of this town beyond the old Fengshan City — places that were once off-limits or rarely visited by locals are now gradually gaining attention.

Stepping into these spots, the scenery may not be as beautiful as you imagine, and some areas are even covered in dust and overgrown weeds. But after doing some research and taking a closer look at each scene, you might just discover — and even hope for — a brighter, more promising future for them.

I look forward to seeing, in two years’ time, how these hidden potentials blossom into another charm of Fengshan.

See more ~~~"Travel by Ear"