If you stand on the beach at Mashan on a clear day, you can literally see the skyscrapers of Xiamen shimmering across the water. It’s close. Scary close. We’re talking about a gap of roughly two kilometers, which is basically a brisk morning jog if you could run on water. This is Kinmen—historically known to many in the West as Quemoy—and along with its sister archipelago, Matsu, these islands represent one of the strangest geopolitical anomalies on the planet. Most people looking at a map of Taiwan assume the country is just one big sweet-potato-shaped island. It isn't. These tiny outposts are tucked right up against the Chinese mainland’s chin, like a bit of stubborn stubble that refused to be shaved off during the Chinese Civil War.
They are physically part of Fujian province but governed by Taipei.
It’s a bizarre reality to live in. For decades, these places weren't vacation spots; they were fortresses. Between 1949 and the late 1970s, Kinmen and Matsu were the literal "Shield of the Republic." If you were a soldier stationed here back then, you weren't looking at the scenery; you were looking for frogmen or incoming shells. Now? You can grab a Starbucks in Kinmen or go "Blue Tear" hunting in Matsu. But the history isn't just in textbooks; it’s baked into the very soil, the architecture, and even the kitchen knives.
The Kinmen and Matsu Reality Check
Let's be real: most travel blogs make these islands sound like a peaceful zen retreat. They’re not—at least not entirely. Kinmen (Quemoy) and Matsu are rugged, wind-swept, and haunted by the ghost of the Cold War. Kinmen is the larger, more "developed" sibling, known for its red-brick Minnan architecture and those iconic "Wind Lion" statues that are supposed to ward off the brutal gusts. Matsu is different. It’s steeper, rockier, and feels much more isolated. It’s spread across five main islands and a bunch of tiny islets, looking a bit like a Mediterranean village that accidentally got dropped into the East China Sea.
The names matter. You’ll see "Kinmen" on modern maps, but older folks and Western historians often stick to "Quemoy." It’s a Portuguese transcription of the local Hokkien dialect. Matsu is named after the sea goddess Mazu, who is a massive deal in this part of the world. People here have a distinct identity. They aren't exactly like people in Taipei, and they certainly aren't like people in Beijing. They’re "Islanders." They’ve survived things most of us only see in movies, like the 823 Artillery Bombardment in 1958, where hundreds of thousands of shells rained down on a piece of land smaller than Brooklyn.
Why the "Blue Tears" Are a Big Deal
If you’ve seen those viral photos of glowing blue water, that’s Matsu. It’s caused by noctiluca scintillans, a type of bioluminescent algae. Locally, they call it "Blue Tears." Between April and September, the coastline turns a surreal, neon electric blue. It’s gorgeous, honestly, but it’s also fickle. You need the right temperature, the right wind, and a lack of light pollution.
People flock to Nangan and Beigan just to catch a glimpse. It’s become a cornerstone of their tourism economy, shifting the islands away from their "fortress" image toward something more ethereal. But even while you’re staring at the glowing waves, you’re likely standing on top of a massive underground tunnel system designed to hide tanks and naval vessels. The juxtaposition is jarring.
The Knife Industry Born From Bombs
This is probably the coolest bit of trivia about Kinmen. After the massive shelling of the 50s, the Chinese military stopped using live explosives and started firing shells filled with propaganda leaflets. Millions of them. Instead of cleaning them up and throwing them away, the locals got creative.
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They started making knives.
Mestro Wu (Wu Tseng-dong) is the guy most people associate with this. His family took the high-quality steel from the casings of those shells and forged them into kitchen cleavers. Because the steel used in the shells had to be incredibly durable to survive the impact, the knives are legendary for their sharpness. It’s a literal "swords into plowshares" story. You can still visit the workshop today and watch them smash a piece of rusted shell into a gleaming blade in minutes.
- The Steel: It’s recycled ballistic steel.
- The Legacy: One shell can make about 60 knives.
- The Irony: A weapon meant to destroy a community ended up becoming its most famous export.
Matsu’s Abandoned Villages and Granite Peaks
While Kinmen has its flat plains and sorghum fields (used to make the face-meltingly strong Kaoliang liquor), Matsu is a vertical challenge. Beigan island features Qinbi Village, which is often called the "Mediterranean of Taiwan." It’s built entirely of granite and marble. During the height of the military era, many of these villages were nearly abandoned as people fled to the main island of Taiwan for safety or work.
Now, they’re being restored as guesthouses.
Walking through Qinbi is strange because the walls are still covered in faded Kuomintang (KMT) slogans. You’ll be drinking a craft coffee while looking at a stone carving that says "Recover the Mainland" or "Eliminate the Communists." It’s a time capsule that refused to be buried. The architecture is sturdy—thick walls, small windows—designed to withstand both typhoons and, historically, pirate raids.
The Underground World
You cannot talk about Kinmen and Matsu without talking about the tunnels. The Zhaishan Tunnel in Kinmen is a masterpiece of military engineering. It’s a massive "E" shaped canal carved directly into the granite so that supply boats could unload while under fire. The acoustics in there are so perfect that they now hold an annual music festival where musicians perform on boats floating in the water.
In Matsu, you have the Beihai Tunnels. They are even more claustrophobic and impressive. These were dug by hand—hammers and chisels—and many soldiers died during the construction. When the tide is right, you can take a canoe through them. It feels like something out of a James Bond movie, but the history is much grimmer. These were places of desperation and extreme grit.
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Sorghum, Snails, and Spicy Food
The food here isn't your standard Taipei night market fare. In Kinmen, everything revolves around Kaoliang. This sorghum liquor is 58% alcohol and hits like a freight train. It’s the backbone of the economy. The climate here is too dry for rice, so they grew sorghum instead. They also have "Western-style" houses (Fan-zai-lou) built by successful emigrants who went to Southeast Asia, made a fortune, and came back to flex on their neighbors with fancy colonial architecture.
Matsu’s food is heavily influenced by Fuzhou. You have to try:
- Red Yeast Vinasse: They put this in everything—pork, fried rice, even sweets. It gives the food a deep red color and a funky, fermented tang.
- Fish Noodles: These are made mostly of fish meat pounded with a little flour. They’re chewy and savory in a way regular noodles just aren't.
- Matsu Burgers: Basically a deep-fried bagel (Jiguang cake) stuffed with an oyster omelet. It’s greasy, salty, and perfect.
The "Matsu Burger" is a great example of the fusion here. It’s humble, rugged food designed to keep you full during a long day of fishing or guard duty.
The Geopolitical Tightrope
Let’s address the elephant in the room. Kinmen and Matsu are in a precarious spot. When tensions flare up between Taipei and Beijing, these islands are the first to feel it. In recent years, we've seen "sand dredging" ships from the mainland encroaching on the waters around Matsu, and drones flying over Kinmen’s military outposts.
There is a complex psychological dynamic here. Many locals have family just across the water. Before the pandemic, there was a "Mini Three Links" ferry that allowed people to commute between Kinmen and Xiamen in 30 minutes. For many, Xiamen is the "big city" where they go shopping or buy property, even though they live under a completely different political system.
It’s a gray zone. The people of Kinmen and Matsu are fiercely proud of their autonomy, but they also realize that being on the front line means you’re the first one to get hit if things go south. This has led to a political atmosphere that is often more "pro-status quo" or conservative compared to the independence-leaning youth in Taipei. They know the cost of war better than anyone else in the region.
Common Misconceptions
People think these islands are just military bases. That hasn't been true since the 1990s when martial law was lifted. While there is still a significant military presence, the "vibe" is much more focused on heritage tourism and ecology.
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Another mistake? Thinking you can see both in one weekend. They are not close to each other! Kinmen is way down south near Xiamen; Matsu is way up north near Fuzhou. There are no ferries between them. You have to fly back to the main island of Taiwan to get from one to the other, or take a very long boat ride from Keelung to Matsu.
Planning a Trip: What You Actually Need to Know
If you're going to do this, do it right. Don't just stay in a generic hotel.
- Stay in a Minnan House: In Kinmen, villages like Shuitou or Zhushan have traditional courtyard houses converted into B&Bs. Sleeping in a room that’s 200 years old is an experience you won't get in a city.
- Rent a Scooter: This is non-negotiable. Public transport exists, but it’s infrequent. You want the freedom to roar down the tree-lined "tanks-only" roads at your own pace.
- The Weather is a Bully: In spring, fog frequently shuts down the airports. You might get stuck for an extra day or two. The locals call it getting "trapped by the gods." Embrace it.
- Respect the "No-Go" Zones: Some beaches still have "Warning: Landmines" signs. Most have been cleared, but the spikes in the sand (anti-landing poles) are still there. Don't go wandering into overgrown military bunkers unless they are clearly marked for tourists.
How to Get There
You'll be flying from Taipei (Songshan), Taichung, or Kaohsiung. UNI Air and Mandarin Airlines are the main carriers. The flights are short—usually about 50 to 60 minutes. For Matsu, you can also take the "Taima Star" ferry from Keelung, which is a ten-hour overnight journey. It’s a rite of passage for some, but honestly, just fly unless you really love the smell of the sea and the vibration of a massive diesel engine.
The Future of the Frontier
Kinmen and Matsu are moving toward a future that looks less like a battlefield and more like a cultural bridge. There are talks of bridges—physical ones—connecting Kinmen to Xiamen, though that is a political landmine in itself. For now, the islands remain a middle ground. They are places where you can see the scars of the 20th century while watching the economic boom of the 21st century happen just across the water.
They aren't just "Taiwan’s islands." They are unique cultural entities that have survived bombardment, isolation, and radical political shifts. Whether you're there for the bioluminescence, the history, or the incredibly strong liquor, you'll leave with a much more nuanced understanding of why this tiny corner of the world is so fiercely contested.
Actionable Next Steps for Travelers and Historians:
- Check the Flight Status: Before booking anything, monitor the weather patterns in the Taiwan Strait; April is notoriously foggy and can lead to multi-day flight cancellations for both Nangan and Kinmen airports.
- Secure a National Park Permit: If you plan on visiting specific restricted ecological areas in Kinmen, check the Kinmen National Park website at least two weeks in advance for any updated access requirements.
- Download "Blue Tear" Tracking Apps: If heading to Matsu, use local weather and tide tracking apps specifically designed to predict bioluminescence visibility based on wind direction and water temperature.
- Book Traditional Lodging Early: The best-preserved Minnan courtyard houses in villages like Zhushan (Kinmen) and the granite houses in Qinbi (Matsu) have very limited capacity and often book out three to four months in advance during peak season.