The survival of traditional retail food markets, an integral part of life in Taiwan for generations, is being challenged by the rise of modern supermarkets and hypermarkets.
Taiwan's traditional food markets are called "wet markets" for good reason: the floors are always damp from frequent sloshing with hoses, and from the melting ice in seafood stands and the water that vendors sprinkle on their vegetables to keep them fresh. Most wet markets are open to the elements, although covered with tarps or makeshift roofs of corrugated iron. Composed of independent vendors coordinated by a loose management system, these markets can be found alongside streets or in vacant lots, their jerry-built food stalls illuminated by bare light bulbs dangling from a tangle of overhead wires.
A few wet markets are in concrete-frame buildings. These have better lighting, and are somewhat more protected from bad weather, even though doors and windows are kept open for better ventilation. Generally speaking, all wet markets are steamy hot in summer, bone- chillingly cold during winter, and always noisy during business hours that stretch roughly from dawn to mid-morning and from late afternoon to early evening.
A visit to a wet market is a shock to the senses. In fact, people can be a bit overwhelmed when they first encounter the clutter that characterizes these places: crowds of people, lugging plastic shopping bags and stepping over puddles of water, squeezing between tall piles of boxes, and weaving around an array of hand-printed signs, display stands, and wooden bins. And at the center of the action are stall after stall heaped with piles of fruit, vegetables, seafood, and other foodstuffs, or with household sundries from pots, pans and other kitchenware to toys and clothing.
Individual purchases are handled directly between shoppers and each vendor in cash, without a government receipt system (which saves paying the 5 percent value-added tax charged in supermarkets and hypermarkets). "Most of our sales to retailers and restaurants are on credit--we collect cash from them on a weekly or monthly basis," says Lai Ching-teh (賴景德), who has been selling fish for fifteen years in a Keelung city wet market. "Individual customers, like housewives, pay cash on the spot--they like to come to us directly because our fish are cheaper and fresher than they could get in a supermarket."
No meat and very little of the produce is prepackaged, and in most cases prices are not posted, so bargaining--which can become quite animated--is an integral part of the shopping experience. Many people consider bargaining one of the most positive aspects of such markets. And in fact, good bargainers can save lots of money compared to those shoppers who avoid haggling to save time or the hassle.
"Most people like the personal contact," says Hsu Chiu-chih(許秋池), a vegetable vendor in Taipei. "Customers like me to ask them how their kids are doing, and they also enjoy trying to get a little discount now and then. Supermarket employees don't have the time to listen to customers complain about life, and they can't bargain with them. It's no fun going to those places to shop."
The smells and sounds of a wet market can be daunting: the aroma of seafood, ripening fruit, and just-slaughtered meat mix together with the cloying sweetness of decaying garbage heaps made up of discarded vegetable leavings, crushed citrus, meat scraps, and damp cardboard boxes and packing material. The scene is saturated with the high-decibel cacophony of bargaining, shouting loaders, and yelling truckers, all punctuated by the rhythmic thumping of hand cleavers on chopping blocks as vendors prepare their wares for sale.
Movement is difficult. Shoppers, seemingly oblivious to everything except their own needs, stop in the cramped aisles to squeeze some oranges, taste some salted nuts, or haggle over prices. "There's no question that wet markets are crowded," says Lai Ching- teh. "But you know, that's one thing our customers seem to like--where there's a crowd, there's lots to buy, and good shoppers can always find bargains." For those more attuned to Western supermarkets, there is a carnival atmosphere to wet markets that does have a certain appeal. But every day? That is the question.
Wet markets are a piece of Taiwan's past (see box, page 48),a past that is fading with therise of urbanization. The shopping patterns so common when the island was made up of rural villages and towns are different now. The days when at least one member of the family took an early morning or late afternoon walk to a nearby market for groceries every day are fading.
There are now greater time constraints on shopping, because more families have both husband and wife employed, and it's becoming rare to find a mother-in-law, auntie, or other relative living under the same roof who does most of the shopping and food preparation. "Before, most wet markets were open between 6:00 and 7:30 in the morning and 4:30 and 6:30 in the evening," says Hsu Chiu-chih. "But people's lifestyles are changing--it takes longer to get between home and work because of traffic, and kids now have more after-school activities, so we've changed our hours to between 5:00 and 7:00 in the morning, and between 6:30 and 9:00 at night."
Moreover, a refrigerator at home is now the norm, unlike a couple of decades ago, which means that shopping need not be done every day. "We used to spray all our vegetables on the stand to keep them fresh," Hsu says. "But now, many customers don't want the vegetables to be too wet, because they plan to keep them all week in the refrigerator and don't want them to rot." Long hours at the office for husband and wife also mean they spend less time in the kitchen, and thus cannot give justice to the complex preparation and cooking that characterizes most Chinese cuisine. That means instant and frozen foods and other preprepared items are increasing in popularity.
"In the past," Lai says, "customers picked the fish they wanted, then gave it to me for weighing and wrapping. They had to clean the fish themselves after they went home. But now we usually do it, because people have less time. I can see the concept of increased service forming in wet markets--it's due to the competition from modern supermarkets."
Lai also emphasizes the lifestyle change. "In recent years, the sunset market has become quite popular," he says. "It's especially convenient for daytime employees. They get off work at 5:30 or 6:00, then stop by the market on the way home. Some vendors in wet markets now offer ready-to-eat dishes, and others sell ingredients already sliced and chopped for popular Chinese dishes--customers can buy these, then go home, stir-fry, and eat."
Even ideas about sanitary standards are changing; many members of the younger generation find traditional markets too dirty and potentially dangerous to the health. "I've been to farmers' markets in the United States," says Hsu Chiu-chih. "They have a nice infrastructure--clean facilities, wide spaces for customers to walk, and every vendor has his own sink and faucet to clean his produce. If our wet markets were as clean and spacious, we could get more young people to shop here."
But most stalls in wet markets are made of wood, not stainless steel, and the floors are at best wooden slats laid on the asphalt of city streets. This makes good sanitation challenging. "I agree that dirty conditions ought to be improved, but this is hard to do," Lai Ching-teh says. "In my shop, we wash the floor every day, but the smell of fish is still there. We can't get rid of it, although we'd really like to. And my wife's sundries stall is so small, and she has so many kinds of merchandise, that there just isn't enough room for everything to be displayed neatly. Messy and dirty conditions hurt wet markets' image, but I don't know if there are any ways to solve these problems."
Finding solutions to sanitation and other problems is becoming a matter of survival, however, because traditional markets are feeling the heat of competition from new formats. Modern supermarkets, hypermarkets, warehouse stores, and convenience stores have grown into a US$6 billion a year industry over the last decade. Much as the old mom-and-pop stores have given way to chains such as 7-Eleven, wet markets are losing their share of the action as Taiwan becomes increasingly urbanized. Many of the major traditional markets that used to draw customers from the countryside have been reduced to local markets, converted to supermarkets or distribution centers, or simply closed down. Yet some wet markets are trying to buck the trend by capitalizing on their traditional strengths.
One that has adapted to the times is the Hsining Market, near the Taipei Central Post Office. The market used to draw customers from a large surrounding area, but its customer base has shifted dramatically as its predominantly residential neighborhood became more commercial. Most of Hsining's current customers live within a seven- block radius, as new roads and bridges have formed barriers and redirected the traffic flow, turning previously well-traveled arteries adjacent to the market into secondary routes.
"Hsining market has a long history," says Liao Shih-liang (廖世涼), who manages the market's retail and wholesale operations. "Our vendors have built strong relationships with their customers, and some last for generations. Vendors and customers treat one another like friends."
Liao has traveled around Asia to see how other markets operate, and he is highly satisfied with his operation. "Japanese markets have the world's best displays of merchandise, and Singapore markets have good efficiency, but we have the freshest produce of all the markets that I have seen. I realize we have shortcomings, but there is no way that supermarkets can replace what we offer."
Two of Hsining's greatest attractions, according to Liao, are that customers can handle produce before buying, and can also bargain. "Our customers prefer to pick and choose their meat and vegetables themselves, without having to look at it or feel it through cellophane. They know the produce as well as the vendors, because that is what they talk about when they shop. They can accurately judge the freshness of the vegetables and meat because it is in an unprocessed form. If you start processing everything, chilling it and wrapping it, then it will not be fresh anymore."
Nevertheless, Liao reluctantly admits that vendors are facing a changing customer base, and they must adjust or lose sales. "People are much busier nowadays and don't have as much time to shop and prepare food. Many of our vendors have started using machines to cut and package meat and process the vegetables to satisfy younger customers. Also, there's a big rush for food on Saturday, Sunday, and holidays, so we have to change our deliveries and process some meat and produce ahead of time to meet the demand."
Hsining market faces other challenges as well. "We need to improve our method of displaying food, because it can be unhygienic as well as a serious source of sewage and garbage for the city," Liao says. "Some vendors are willing to change and coordinate efforts for improvement, but others are too accustomed to the old ways--they don't see things the same way as the city administrators who set the rules and enforce the laws."
According to Chang Jui-fen (張瑞芬), a professor in the Department of Industrial Engineering at National Tsing Hua University, traditional markets have to increase their competitiveness and attract new customers in order to survive. "They have lost their single objective of providing people with a convenient place to satisfy daily shopping needs," she says. "The needs of consumers have shifted away from what these markets offer."
A recent report by the Taipei city government indicates that the city's sixty-one major wet food markets generate jobs for almost 10,000 registered vendors, but all of the markets are in a serious state of decline and are in dire need of repair and upgrading. Almost 3,500 vendor stalls, 27 percent of the total, already lie vacant. "No matter what action is taken to improve the immediate situation, someone or some group will be dissatisfied," Chang says. "Meanwhile, supermarkets and hypermarkets have stuck to their objective of achieving profitability, and you can see the results--stores galore."
Old-style markets can survive, however, as the Nanmen Market has demonstrated. Faced with a declining customer base, its managers and vendors recognized the need for planning and teamwork, and they took action. "We are changing to meet new demands," says Lin Ting- ning(林鼎寧), the market's general manger. "Customers want better lighting, air conditioning, and an orderly display of goods. They used to stress price, but now, even if the goods are cheaper, they will not necessarily buy. Modern consumers are looking for top-quality products. To deliver, you have to work on the total image of the marketplace. We applied for funds from the city government to improve the lighting and to add air conditioning, and our vendors have worked together to improve their displays and to introduce only the highest-quality goods. Of course, our prices are higher now, but our quality can't be beaten."
Lin admits that the competition is stiff. "Supermarkets and hypermarkets may have a wider variety of goods, but we focus on specific items that are hard to locate elsewhere," he says. "For instance, we have the best selection of dried and preserved meats, nuts, steamed breads, noodles, and traditional candies. You can't possibly get these items in the new stores, nor will you get the personalized service."
Fish vendor Lai Ching-teh also thinks that wet markets will survive in the long run, because they have their strong points: "We have what modern stores don't--the advantages of greater freshness and lower prices." But how long can traditional vendors hold on to these advantages? For instance, given the current rate of growth of hypermarkets and supermarkets, traditional markets are starting to lose their scale of economy in the daily wholesale auctions for vegetables and meats. Traditional markets used to have the first pick of goods and volume-pricing advantages, but the competition for wholesale products is giving such advantages to the highest bidders--and hypermarkets are able to buy in huge volume and knock down costs as a result.
Moreover, the new supermarket and hypermarket retailers are increasing their marketing acumen: They are tailoring their purchases to customer demands by utilizing customer surveys, and by building trust through stocking brand-name goods and produce. Younger shoppers are also proving less tied to habit than their elders. They are quicker to switch their loyalties to stores that offer better service, lower prices, and a more attractive environment. While many wet market managers and vendors are waking up to the challenges ahead, they also realize that too much adjustment on their part will place traditional markets in direct competition with the new retail formats, so it is wiser to cultivate their own niche. Unless they are able to do so, traditional markets may have a grim future.
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Charles V. Trappey is a management science professor at National Chiao Tung University in Hsinchu.