30-Second Overview: Taiwan's arcades (qilou) are an architectural form promoted starting from the Japanese colonial period in 1900, combining Southeast Asian colonial architecture with local needs. The design—with second floors projecting outward and first floors left open—creates a semi-public space that accommodates street vendor culture, scooter parking, and neighborhood socializing, making it one of Taiwan's most soulful urban landscapes.
If you grew up in Taiwan, you surely have memories like these: seeking shelter under an arcade on a rainy day, buying fried chicken cutlets under an arcade after school, or sitting under an arcade on a summer evening, chatting while a fan blows. These sheltered corridors carry the shared life memories of the Taiwanese people.
Southeast Asian Transplantation during the Japanese Colonial Period
Arcades were not an original Taiwanese invention, but rather architectural wisdom learned by the Japanese from Southeast Asia.
In 1900, the Japanese colonial government promoted the "Taipei Urban Improvement Plan," introducing arcade architecture on a large scale for the first time. At that time, the Governor-General's Office found that the shop house architecture of places like Singapore and Penang was highly suitable for Taiwan's climate and commercial needs.
There is a clever logic to this architecture: part of the first floor is recessed while the second floor projects outward, forming a roofed corridor. This achieves two goals at once: providing shade and shelter from rain, while increasing the building's usable area.
Japanese planning emphasized standardization: uniform pillar spacing, consistent heights, and fixed depths. They sought a neat, uniform modern city that symbolized the order and efficiency of the colonial regime.
In 1905 in Kaohsiung, and during the 1920s in Taichung and Tainan, arcade architecture was promoted across the island. The arcades of that era indeed looked very "Japanese"—orderly, clean, and well-organized.
Post-War Localized "Wild" Growth
In 1945, the Japanese departed, and the Taiwanese took over these arcades. This is when interesting things began to happen.
Without standardized restrictions, Taiwanese people began modifying arcades according to their own needs. Some raised the height, some widened them, some installed iron window grilles, and some applied tiles. The originally uniform arcades transformed into a "mixed-style" aesthetic, each with its own unique character.
More importantly, the uses of arcades became more diverse. They were no longer just shops; they became factories, warehouses, living rooms, and restaurants. Business on the first floor, residents on the second, and renters on the third—this "mixed-use" model became a hallmark of Taiwan's urban development.
The Stage for the Vendor Economy
If the arcade is a theater, then street vendors are its most active actors.
Taiwan's street vendor culture is particularly developed, largely because arcades provide a "semi-legal" space for business. Theoretically, arcades are private land, but since pedestrians can pass through, vendors find a survival space within this gray area.
Breakfast carts occupy a corner of an arcade in the morning and move on once they finish selling. Fruit stalls appear in the afternoon and pack up at night. Night market vendors turn arcades into food streets during the evening.
This "guerrilla-style" way of operating provides many people with a low-barrier opportunity for entrepreneurship. With just a small cart, a gas stove, and a few small stools, one can start a business under an arcade.
Of course, this also creates management headaches. Who does the arcade actually belong to? Can vendors do business here? Government enforcement standards have remained ambiguous, resulting in a curious state of "legally impermissible, but practically tacitly accepted."
A Sanctuary for the Scooter Kingdom
Starting in the 1980s, Taiwan entered the era of the "Scooter Kingdom." As every household acquired a scooter, parking became a major issue.
Once again, the arcade demonstrated its adaptability. The semi-open space is perfect for parking scooters—providing shelter from the elements without obstructing the road.
Gradually, parking scooters under arcades became a standard feature of Taiwan's urban life. When buying a house, one looks to see if there is an arcade; when renting, one checks if scooter parking is available. A large part of an arcade's value stems from this "parking function."
However, this brought new problems: arcades were originally meant for pedestrians, but now that they have become parking lots, where are the pedestrians supposed to walk? Many arcades are so packed with scooters that pedestrians are forced onto the road, creating the urban chaos of "pedestrian-vehicle conflict."
The Visual Impact of the Signage Jungle
Walking through the streets of Taiwan, the most striking sight is the dense thicket of signs.
Every shop wants to be more visible, making their signs larger and brighter. From neon lights to LEDs, from Chinese to English, from horizontal to vertical—the facades of arcades have become a battlefield for signage.
Foreigners visiting Taiwan are often stunned by this "signage density." Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai once remarked that Taipei's streetscapes resemble science fiction films, where dense signs and neon lights create an atmosphere of a futuristic city.
But for Taiwanese people, these signs are simply part of daily life. The red sign of "Old Zhang Beef Noodles," the pink lightbox of "Xiao Mei Hair Salon," the handwritten sign of "Grandma's Shop"—every sign has a story, and every story carries human warmth.
A Meeting Point for Human Warmth
The most precious aspect of an arcade is not the architecture itself, but the "human space" it creates.
On summer evenings, elderly residents sit on small stools under the arcade to chat. Children play in the arcades, and shopkeepers wash vegetables there. These scenes of daily life add warmth to the cold urban environment.
The arcades around traditional markets are particularly full of life. An elderly woman selling vegetables might organize her produce under the arcade while chatting with neighbors. A housewife might compare prices under the arcade, discussing which stall has the freshest produce.
This "semi-public space" creates a unique social pattern: it is neither entirely private nor entirely public, but rather a "neighborhood space" situated between the two. Here, strangers might start a conversation while seeking shelter from the rain, and neighbors might meet because of where they parked their scooters.
Challenges of Survival in the Era of Urban Renewal
In recent years, waves of urban renewal have impacted traditional arcades.
Newly built high-rises emphasize modern design and typically do not include arcades. Underground parking lots have replaced arcade parking, air-conditioned malls have replaced arcade shops, and elevator lobbies have replaced arcade social spaces.
Some classic arcade districts face the pressure of demolition and reconstruction. Developers believe arcades are "not modern enough," and the government finds them "difficult to manage." In the face of economic efficiency, historical culture appears fragile.
However, there are successful examples of preservation. Through comprehensive planning, Taipei's Dihua Street has preserved its Baroque-style arcade architecture, revitalizing itself by integrating tourism and cultural creativity. Lukang Old Street and Daxi Old Street also feature arcade architecture as a hallmark, developing their own tourism brands.
Spatial Memory and Local Identity
For the Taiwanese, arcades are more than just architecture; they are vessels of collective memory.
Everyone has their own arcade story: waiting for the bus under an arcade as a child, dating under an arcade during adolescence, or buying late-night snacks under an arcade as an adult. These seemingly ordinary experiences constitute the shared life memories of the Taiwanese people.
Particularly under the impact of globalization, arcade culture becomes even more precious. As multinational chains begin to replace traditional small shops and modern architecture replaces historic streethouses, arcades become vital symbols for maintaining local identity.
The character of a place lies not in how much it resembles foreign lands, but in how unique it is. Taiwan's arcade culture is an embodiment of this "uniqueness"—a unique space that fuses colonial history, local adaptation, and grassroots wisdom.
Possibilities for the Future
Where will arcade culture go?
On one hand, traditional arcades do indeed face challenges. Issues regarding the safety of old buildings, new demands of modern life, and considerations of urban management efficiency all place pressure on their survival.
On the other hand, arcades are also seeking new possibilities. Some young people have begun opening cafes, bookstores, and studios in old arcades, interpreting traditional spaces in new ways. The government has also begun to value the cultural significance of arcades, promoting preservation and revitalization projects.
More importantly, the values carried by arcades—human connection, community warmth, and the flexibility of life—remain precious in the modern city. Perhaps the arcades of the future will not look exactly like those of the past, but the concept of "humanized space" they represent is still worth our cherishing and promotion.
After all, the beauty of a city lies not only in how modern it is, but in how warm it can be. And the arcade is precisely the witness to that warmth.
References
- Ministry of Culture: Survey of Taiwan's Arcade Architectural Cultural Heritage
- Taipei City Urban Renewal Office: Historic District Preservation Plan
- Construction and Planning Agency: Urban Design Review Standards
- Academia Sinica, Institute of Taiwan History: History of Taiwan's Urban Development
- National Taiwan Museum: Special Exhibition on Taiwan's Architectural Culture