I know I’m idealising it all - as a not-so-young millennial that can’t remember the last time he cooked a full meal for himself. (That was probably a good two years ago.)

But moving on slightly from morning walks now, the space I’ve found myself frequenting when I feel like I need a break from the routines of everyday life (or to simply clear my head) isn’t the park. It’s the basement level of Punggol Plaza. That a wet market even exists here should be surprising. Punggol, after all, is quite a new town.

Explaining the draw of wet markets with specificity and linguistic finesse would probably require the mind and pen of a far finer wordsmith than I can lay claim to be. But in a nutshell, it’s probably their lively energy that feels so magnetic and electric.

As vibrant hubs, their kaleidoscope of colours and symphony of sounds offer an experience that supermarkets, with their comparatively sterile aisles and uniformed shelves, simply cannot replicate. It's in these markets that the soul of Singapore thrives, where vendors greet you with a friendly nod, and the air is rich with the aroma (okay, I’ll admit this is highly debatable) of fresh produce.

What are wet markets in Singapore?

As always, however, let’s dig back a bit into the past first.

Wet markets in Singapore are more than just places to buy groceries; they are a cornerstone of local culture and history. Dating back to the early 19th century, they were organised primarily in the 1950s, following the relocation of street hawkers, and are said to have already served then as vibrant social hubs. This specific quality is worth reiterating: Unlike supermarkets like NTUC Fairprice that dominate the landscape today, wet markets offer a unique blend of fresh produce and human interaction.

That’s perhaps why shopping there offers an experience distinct from the air-conditioned lanes of supermarkets. They deliver a sensory-rich atmosphere that - some have suggested - can make shopping a more personable and rewarding activity, where shoppers can often engage directly with vendors, building relationships that can lead to better deals and personalised service.

Many Singaporeans also attest to the superior freshness of produce available at these markets.

Wet markets typically offer a variety of high-quality meats, seafood, and vegetables that are often seen as fresher than their supermarket counterparts as noted by community discussions. This quality, coupled with the ability to inspect and select produce with care, makes wet markets an appealing choice for those who prioritise fresh ingredients in their cooking.

In essence, Singapore wet markets are not just about the goods; they are also about community, and tradition. The mutual relationships between vendors and customers often extend beyond mere transactions; bursting with life, these markets continue to be irreplaceable staples of the Singaporean lifestyle.

The oldest wet market in Singapore (sort of)?

Multiple sources point to one specific wet market as being the oldest in Singapore, and taking a closer look at it provides a unique window into the country’s vibrant past: Lau Pa Sat.

Originally constructed in 1824 and renowned as the Former Telok Ayer Market, however, it's probably become more famous today for being the (arguably) overrated tourist go-to site for hawker food. 

Still, its high-visibility position amidst the bustling CBD can also be seen as a symbol of Singapore’s time-honoured traditions being lodged permanently into the public consciousness. In many ways, it showcases the juxtaposition of old and new Singapore.

(Fun fact: Lau Pa Sat's architecture, with its octagonal cast-iron design crafted by James MacRitchie in 1894, exemplifies the Victorian style unique to Southeast Asia during the period. Originally a waterfront fish market, it has transformed over time, yet retains its historical grandeur amid Singapore's high-rise skyline.)

Though the wet market ceased operations in the late 1960s, Lau Pa Sat perhaps continues to echo the frenetic spirit of traditional Singapore wet markets by offering a glimpse into the nation's cultural heart, now through its vibrant hawker scene.

Wet markets vs supermarkets

So, we’ve established that Singapore's wet markets are a symphony of local flavours and vibrant interactions.

They offer an engaging, tactile shopping experience where customers handpick the freshest produce, seafood, and meats. The lively bargaining with vendors arguably creates a personal connection to one's food source, a vivacity often absent in the more sanitised aisles of supermarkets like NTUC.

And while supermarkets provide a broader selection of pre-packaged goods, they sometimes lack the 'soul' that Singapore wet markets effortlessly deliver. Furthermore, wet markets often present fresher and more affordable alternatives compared to supermarkets, which frequently offer industrially packaged goods at a premium.

Of course, that’s not to say that supermarkets are entirely bad (and that’s evidenced by our heavier dependence on them, compared to wet markets). They excel in convenience, catering to consumers who prioritise hygiene and extensive global offerings. Predictable aisles and lack of social interaction and predictable aisles, on the flipside, can also be comforting for most. 

A recap: Why wet markets in Singapore offer a unique experience

Bear with me if I sound like I’m belabouring the point – but it’s worth reiterating that wet markets in Singapore are not merely places to purchase goods; they are vibrant cultural mosaics offering a truly distinctive shopping experience.

What sets Singapore wet markets apart is the personal connection between vendors and shoppers. Engaging with knowledgeable vendors who offer insights on selecting the best cuts and preparing meals fosters community ties.

This is a stark contrast to the impersonal transactions often associated with supermarkets, where shoppers swift through aisles, lists in hand, without the warm exchange of greetings and advice.

Beyond shopping, wet markets serve as community hubs, especially for the older generations. These markets offer a sense of familiarity and belonging that transcends just commerce, and where the pulse of daily life is felt. What they may lack in convenience and variety, they make up for with an unparalleled, intimate, and lively shopping experience within which an often-overlooked part Singapore's cultural identity is embedded.

An answer for all the idealising

The process of understanding – from afar - why wet markets are so magnetic may perhaps also hold the answer to my initial question: Why do I, as a young adult, idealise wet markets?

For someone jaded by the society’s incessant demand of us to grow and evolve and become more ‘modern’, wet markets represent bits of history enshrined in the present. For someone no longer enamoured by the mirage of hyper-connectivity afforded by social media, they represent places where small, yet genuine human-to-human interaction can thrive. I am both of those people.

Yet I am also the problem for why they remain at risk today.

CNA did a wonderful long read about the future of wet markets in Singapore a couple of years back, illuminating that they’re actually highly relevant to our society still due to their popularity with the older generations.

Unfortunately, this also means that once most of our elders pass, wet markets may ultimately fade into oblivion – no longer supported by their loyal patrons, nor by the people running them (most youngsters, including yours truly, could never imagine themselves running a wet market stall).

In reflecting on the distinct allure of Singapore's wet markets, I’ve been reminded of the vibrant tapestry of life they represent - an enduring charm that supermarkets simply cannot replicate. Wet markets are not just about the transaction of goods; they are a pulsating hub of community, culture, and tradition.

To be able to find occasional solace in these bustling spaces, however, means that these places must first exist. I can’t see myself selling fish or poultry at the moment - but I could see myself laying a frying pan on the stove and picking up a fire starter again. Maybe it’s time to put my money where my mouth is, and where my feet want to continue to be.