He called it a "sentimental journey" returning to Taiwan after 40 years but Klaus-Peter Metzke was grumpy. The business consultant was tired from lugging around his suitcases, his flight to Germany would take off in a couple of hours and the heat and humidity was getting to him.
"Come on Peter, sort yourself out," said his friend Lynn Miles, a long-term expat and activist, as we settled down in the Shida coffee shop, Taipei. The 63-year-olds ordered cold beers and we started our trip down Memory Lane.
We went back to 1967 and a place where Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石) ruled the country with an iron fist and martial law was imposed for the longest period in modern history (1949 to 1987). Freedom of assembly and the formation of political parties were curtailed, free speech and the press were curbed.
PHOTO: JULES QUARTLY, TAIPEI TIMES
An average taxi fare was about NT$6, pedicabs were NT$4, a month's rent was NT$400 and living expenses were about the same. America had an army base in the city and the few cafes that existed had strip lighting and played classical music.
After meeting on the streets of Shida, by chance, Metzke and Miles opened a cafe named The Barbarian (野人咖啡室), which helped transform the cultural landscape of Taipei by providing a place for intellectuals and artists to sit around with a good cup of coffee and listen to records.
Brother Hotel owner, Hung Teng-sheng (洪騰勝) backed the enterprise financially, but even so the basement coffee shop in Wumei Street, Ximending, was a "hole." It had seven tables and seating for just 15 people. The furnishings were homemade and the biggest draw was the music. There was nowhere else in town to listen to jazz, rock and the blues.
"It was a small, cramped hole. Once you were down it was like a trap and it was hard to get out. It was unlike anything else in Taipei at the time," Metzke said.
"It doesn't seem that special to open up a coffee shop now, it's normal, but 40 years ago it was something new, like opening a window. It was a place to meet and exchange ideas" at a time when people were discouraged from doing so, Miles said.
Lin Huai-min (林懷民), of Cloud Gate fame, is said to have written one of his books there. Pai Hsien-yong (白先勇) wrote a story in which The Barbarian featured. Native Literature Movement writer Li Ao (李敖) was also a visitor. The painter Shiy De-jinn (席德進) frequently dropped by and there were small art exhibitions.
Foreign students and journalists also hung out and according to Metzke, "It was the only place you could find these kind of people. The artists would come and do their own thing. They would read a poem, show off their works, even play the flute.
"There were so many big personalities, I still have their name cards. There was a deaf mute lady artist who was good at designing things and we also worked with Atayal Aboriginals on a weaving project.
"Taiwanese did not really travel abroad a lot at that time and if they did it was to emigrate and they did not come back. That was why so many people came to our coffee shop, it was an opportunity to learn a little about the outside world," Metzke said.
The German and the American arrived in Taiwan in the late 1960s.
Metzke described himself as a "Renaissance Man," with an interest in Chinese art and republishing academic books. He made a living by selling reprints from the National Palace Museum and helped out at the former Goethe-Institute in Taiwan (now the German Cultural Center).
Miles said he was "a retired student" (of Chinese) and was dodging the draft, though he later went to Vietnam as a war contractor. He was also an agitator for democracy and was expelled from Taiwan and not removed from the blacklist until 1996.
Metzke was responsible for the coffee and design of the cafe. Miles made lamps and tried putting burlap on the walls.
"That was a disaster, afterward we tried painting instead, but kinda went nuts because of the beer and vapors. We ended up rolling around the floor," Miles said.
They bought a stereo system and deejayed, introducing US artists like Bob Dylan, Jefferson Airplane, Mississippi John Hurt, Joan Baez and Miles Davis.
The Barbarian opened in September 1967 but Metzke and Miles moved on soon after, leaving Hong to run the coffee shop on his own. It survived until Spring 1970 and sadly closed because it was more trouble than it was worth. Some customers would nurse a cup of coffee all night long and refuse to leave at closing time.
"Apparently [Hong] had to call the cops to get people to leave and he wasn't making any money. There were rumors about a suicide but it was never confirmed," Miles said.
"We wanted to open a place where people could meet and exchange ideas but we weren't interested in running a coffee shop," Metzke said. "To be successful you need to contribute something new, something special at the right time. We did, but that time is finished, it's over."
As for today's Taipei, Metzke was impressed. He said there had been "enormous" development and attitudes had changed.
"People seem to have a broad way of thinking, it is very international. Taiwanese have not only been brave they have been successful. They did not have vision before but now it's a free country.
"These are not empty words. It is not like it used to be, when there was always pressure because of martial law. Before it was just a few artists and intellectuals who said what they thought. Now everyone can do it."
Jan. 5 to Jan. 11 Of the more than 3,000km of sugar railway that once criss-crossed central and southern Taiwan, just 16.1km remain in operation today. By the time Dafydd Fell began photographing the network in earnest in 1994, it was already well past its heyday. The system had been significantly cut back, leaving behind abandoned stations, rusting rolling stock and crumbling facilities. This reduction continued during the five years of his documentation, adding urgency to his task. As passenger services had already ceased by then, Fell had to wait for the sugarcane harvest season each year, which typically ran from
It’s a good thing that 2025 is over. Yes, I fully expect we will look back on the year with nostalgia, once we have experienced this year and 2027. Traditionally at New Years much discourse is devoted to discussing what happened the previous year. Let’s have a look at what didn’t happen. Many bad things did not happen. The People’s Republic of China (PRC) did not attack Taiwan. We didn’t have a massive, destructive earthquake or drought. We didn’t have a major human pandemic. No widespread unemployment or other destructive social events. Nothing serious was done about Taiwan’s swelling birth rate catastrophe.
Words of the Year are not just interesting, they are telling. They are language and attitude barometers that measure what a country sees as important. The trending vocabulary around AI last year reveals a stark divergence in what each society notices and responds to the technological shift. For the Anglosphere it’s fatigue. For China it’s ambition. For Taiwan, it’s pragmatic vigilance. In Taiwan’s annual “representative character” vote, “recall” (罷) took the top spot with over 15,000 votes, followed closely by “scam” (詐). While “recall” speaks to the island’s partisan deadlock — a year defined by legislative recall campaigns and a public exhausted
In the 2010s, the Communist Party of China (CCP) began cracking down on Christian churches. Media reports said at the time that various versions of Protestant Christianity were likely the fastest growing religions in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The crackdown was part of a campaign that in turn was part of a larger movement to bring religion under party control. For the Protestant churches, “the government’s aim has been to force all churches into the state-controlled organization,” according to a 2023 article in Christianity Today. That piece was centered on Wang Yi (王怡), the fiery, charismatic pastor of the