One of Taiwan''s most iconic cultural features is its traditional markets. They date back to before the Japanese colonial era, when they were critical hubs for commerce and socializing. For many older adults today, traditional markets are still the preferred place to buy fresh produce. But with the passage of time, traditional markets have become less prominent in everyday life, falling behind to competitors like global retailers and big-box stores. Today, traditional markets face a reckoning like never before. In this first installment of our Sunday special report, we meet vendors who keep the old markets alive, all while striving to adapt to a brave new world.
It’s the early morning hours, and most people are still struggling to get out of bed. But here, tucked away in an alley, this traditional food market is already pulling up the shutters for a day of transactions.
One merchant nimbly scales a fish, the crisp sound of the scaler cutting through the hair.
Another rhythmically pounds pork chops, tenderizing them to perfection.
The sound of seasoned merchants hawking their produce can be heard all around.
Merchants smile at passersby while a medley of aromas permeates the air. This is the traditional market we are all familiar with.
Hsu Chieh-hsing
Assistant professor
Our traditional markets emerged some time during the Qing dynasty. They were open-air stalls lining the road. Farmers would squat down along the roadside, selling their wares. For example, they would sell peanuts, adzuki beans and household essentials. Of course, they also had fish and vegetables. When the Japanese came to Taiwan, they noticed these stalls were uncovered, which in the heat of Taiwan’s summers was not very sanitary. So they reformed them.
After the start of the Japanese colonial era, stall keepers were forced to reform. The Japanese authorities implemented rules and established a system for regulating markets. Later in the 1960s, the KMT government included markets in city planning programs, and public markets emerged throughout the country. Those who visited the markets formed connections there, and shared in the experiences of older generations. Those experiences are part of a rich cultural story.
Hsu Chieh-hsing
Assistant professor
At these markets, people would talk about everything. This was one of the special characteristics of Taiwanese traditional markets — the warmth and human touch.
Fuzhou Noodle Shop, which is already in its fifth generation of ownership, opened for business during the Japanese colonial era. The owner, Chao Shan-chi 趙善棋, began working alongside his parents at eight years old. Although time has changed the appearance of the shop, Chao’s feelings toward the market have never changed. From the moment he was born, his life was inextricably tied to this place.
Chao Shan-chi
Noodle shop owner
Before we used to cook in large woks — there were two large woks over there. My mother had me right here, so I’m a true local at Taichung Second Market.
For Chao, who is now in his 60s, time has passed in the blink of an eye. After decades of cooking noodles, he has finally set down the ladle, passing that baton on to his son. These days his son is at the front of the shop cooking while he wraps wontons in the back. Each wonton is wrapped to the perfect size, and there is no shortage of hungry mouths showing up to sample them.
Decades-old markets are not just a thing of southern and central Taiwan. In the north as well, there is no shortage of such markets.
Having married into the trade 30 years ago, Cheng Shu-ying learned butchery from her husband’s family, and has been at it now for nearly three decades. She selects and cuts meat with the greatest attention to detail.
Cheng Shu-ying
Butcher
My father-in-law began selling pork at 17. Today he is in his 80s — so it’s been more than 60 years. My husband is the third generation of butchers in his family, and my son is now learning the trade from us.
Whether a customer wants sliced meat, chopped meat, shredded meat, or meat with skin removed, market butchers do everything they can to meet a request. And customers who can’t cook need not worry. While waiting on their order, they can get cooking tips from the masters.
This is part of the fun of shopping at markets, and what convinces people to keep returning.
But then, in 1969, Taiwan got its first supermarket — the Ximen Supermarket. After that, the number of traditional markets began to decline, as more and more supermarkets sprouted up around the country.
In a bright, clean environment, supermarkets display goods in a systematic layout, offering a wealth of choice. They make it easy for shoppers to find products and compare prices. With the advent of s
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