Geothermal spring water promises more than physical healing at Hoshinoya Guguan in Taiwan

Onsens, baths filled with geothermal spring water, have long been a balm for ailing, tired bodies. During the 50-year Japanese colonisation of Taiwan between 1895 and 1945, the country’s hot springs were turned into public bathhouses primarily for the military or police stationed on the island. 

This is what led me to Guguan in the Heping district of Taichung. In a valley about 800m above sea level, surrounded by the Xueshan Mountain Range in central Taiwan, is a sleepy township isolated from civilisation by a 1.5-hour drive. Here, buildings give way to open fields and a craggy gravel-bottom valley carved by the Dajia River. 

Discovered by the indigenous Atayal people who first resided in the area in 1907, the clear, odourless, alkaline hydrogen carbonate spring water has a long history of soothing sore muscles. Ancient stone artefacts have been found in the area, and 1927, the Japanese built the Meiji Onsen to take advantage of the 48 deg C water bubbling up from the river. 

The Japanese touch

Like all those who’ve come before me, I’ve journeyed to find some respite from city life. Hoshinoya Guguan, the only Taiwanese outpost of the luxury hospitality Hoshino Resorts brand, promises just that with a generous helping of omotenashi (a Japanese philosophy of genuine hospitality and mindfulness) and their signature ryokan style. 

Opened in mid-2019, the resort was designed by Azuma Architect & Associates to create an immersive experience in nature. The library, lobby and restaurant are housed in a long rectangular single-storey structure with floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking a meticulously landscaped “water garden”. 

To get to the spa and rooms, I have to walk through the water garden (yes, even in the rain), where a pond snakes around fir and pine trees, Chinese cypresses and Formosan gum trees, an intentional design by Hiroki Hasegawa to avoid cutting down the existing mature greenery, and canopies fitted with daybeds.

Or, in the other direction, through a bamboo garden where spring water flows down slim troughs, filling the air with a constant soft trickle of water. 

A water healing ritual

Another of Azuma’s features is the outdoor onsen, which encapsulates the Japanese practice of enjoying hot springs in the nude amid nature. Unlike Taiwanese onsen culture, which requires bathing suits and swimming caps for public baths, the younger generation prefers to rent private rooms instead. 

Also offering the option, each of the 49 rooms at Hoshinoya Guguan has its own private onsen bath, housed on a separate floor of the mezzanine-styled rooms. Movable louvres peel back to a view of the mountain or garden with a daybed and tatami platform to lounge on.

I pay a visit to the very dimly lit onsen at night when the air has cooled after the rain. Soaking in pleasant 44 deg C spring water, between trips to the dry sauna and a few plunges in the cold pool, I look up and try to glimpse the stars.

The air is tranquil and silent. Feeling the cool air on my bare skin is liberating (and delightfully satisfies my nudist tendencies). 

Fading into obscurity

In fact, every detail has been tailored to encourage a sense of mindfulness and meditation. 

Meal times at Hoshinoya Guguan’s sole restaurant is a passive affair. The kaiseki dinner is executive chef Kazuto Kawanishi’s showstopper, a glorious multicourse of Japanese and Taiwanese produce presented on colourful Kutani and Chinese-style Arita porcelain ware and a ceramic centrepiece resembling pine tree bark.

The humble millet, a staple in the aboriginal diet, lends some bite and texture to a dish comprising tongues of sea urchin, king crab meat, and smooth beancurd skin.

At the resort’s spa, treatment begins with a form, part liability waiver and part intention setting — revitalising or relaxing — indicating where my body needs extra attention. I get the Tian oil massage, meant for relaxation, but other treatments include herbal mud packs and heated jade stones for more invigoration. 

Lulled to near sleep, I emerge in a trance-like state, and as I navigate the dark walkways to my room, it’s so quiet and void of distraction that my thoughts (and the clacking of my wooden clogs, courtesy of the resort) are the only thing I can hear. 

Taking on an entirely different mood after sunset, Hoshinoya Guguan’s restraint in its lighting is, unsurprisingly, part of its design. Outdoors, the pathways are lit discreetly along the sides (overhead lamps, god forbid!), and so is the open bath, which is softly illuminated by the glow through the window from the onsen indoors. In the rooms, there are four different light settings to wind down before bed. 

For a city dweller like me, the darkness and silence initially feel a little unsettling. Shadows and empty spaces fill with the monsters of my imagination. Granted, it’s off-season when I visit, and they get booked out in winter, but aside from the few other guests I bump into at meal times, my two nights make me feel reclusive.

Drawn-out corridors that meander and quiet nooks fill the rest of my time in the resort. The insects and birds, it seems, are also considerately hushed. 

On my final morning at breakfast, behind a glass window, I watch as butterflies sunbathe on lotus flowers and sparrows hop boldly onto water lilies. I think about what Masanobu Takeishi, the resort’s lighting designer and CEO of Illumination of City Environment, said, “Only in obscurity can one truly feel nature’s beauty and the stretch of space.”

Sometimes, all we need for a perspective reset is to be reminded of nature’s magnitude and our insignificance in the endless universe.