Firmly taking root in everyday life, our hometown markets — chợ quê — are not simply a place to trade, but also puzzle pieces that make up childhood memories, holiday excitement, and even tales of hardships and life milestones of countless people.
Whether on urban streets or in the countryside, each market has their own set of cultural charms. Still, compared to markets in Saigon, which are always buzzing with packed kiosks housing diverse merchandise from all corners of the country, the countryside markets in my memory are much more rustic and casual.
Having moved away from my hometown for several years, I’ve lost that connection to its market, something I once found familiar with everyday interactions — as a tiny child waddling behind my mom as she picked out veggie bundles and the best fish from her regular vendors. Today, as convenience stores and supermarkets have sprouted on every road, popping up even in the most hidden corners of the countryside, it seems that chợ quê’s busyness has waned, but they still hold a lot of importance for generations of local kids.
Whenever I return to my hometown, in the morning, my mom and I pick up our usual ritual on our usual motorbike: stopping for a piping hot bowl of porridge in front of the market, then roaming the market to fill our basket with tasty treats that one can only find in chợ quê.
I recall with crystal clarity the way to school during my primary school and middle school years. Walking past the village market every day, I learned by heart where every vendor is, to whom they belong, and what they sell. Porridge, bao buns, bánh mì, bánh đúc, bánh canh, chè, beancurd — these were the delicious flavors I would never forget. Alas, the market nowadays is not what it was; many of them are still the same vendors, but a few have been gone for years, so some of my cravings might remain forever unfulfilled.
According to the Vietnamese-language dictionary, “chợ” (market) is defined as “a public place for many to buy and sell products during fixed days and hours.” Our society’s development has expanded on the above-mentioned definition. Markets have grown so much since they first appeared, chaotic and disorganized, to versions that are regulated and established by local authorities.
Markets have also entered Vietnamese literature as a theme reflecting the colorful range of human moods, like when Nguyễn Trãi took in the sounds of a calming, prosperous life of his constituents, the market appeared in his poetry: “Lao xao chợ cá làng ngư phủ / The bustling fish market of the fishing village” (Bảo kính cảnh giới, Vol. 43). Later, Nguyễn Khuyến, one of Vietnam’s most prominent impressionist poet, painted a picture of Đồng Market, professing his love for his homeland:
“Tháng chạp hai mươi bốn chợ Đồng / On December 24 in Đồng Market
Năm nay chợ họp có đông không? / Is this year’s session lively?
Dở trời, mưa bụi còn hơi rét / Overcast, drizzling, and slightly freezing
Nếm rượu tường đền được mấy ông / How many sat sipping spirits by the temple?
Hàng quán người về nghe xao xác / Stalls were noisy with the sounds of returning villagers
Nợ nần năm cũ hỏi lung tung. / Asking after old debts from the old years.”
Poet Đoàn Văn Cừ opened his piece ‘Chợ Tết’ (Tết Market) with a stanza awash in warmth and vivid colors.
“Dải mây trắng đỏ dần trên đỉnh núi / Strips of white clouds redden on the mountain peaks
Sương hồng lam ôm ấp nóc nhà gianh / Pinkish blue mist embraces nodes of thatched roof
Trên con đường viền trắng mép đồi xanh / On the white path dotting the edge of green hills,
Người các ấp tưng bừng ra chợ Tết. / Villagers head to the Tết market with joy.”
These lines demonstrate a scene of the traditional market immersed in village culture. The late Professor Trần Quốc Vượng believed that markets have transcended its mere economic function to be a ground to cultivate social interactions that are tied to Vietnamese cultural values. Perhaps that is why tourists often stop by local markets in their itinerary, as apart from purchasing indigenous products, they can experience the colorful civic life of that locality.
When I have a chance to host my friends in my hometown, I always make sure to take them to experience chợ quê, observe the vendors, immerse in the quotidien life, and have a taste of local delicacies, just so they have a better idea about where I grew up. They often recall these trips with a yearning for a bowl of steaming porridge from the front of the market.
It just goes to show, if one hopes to understand a place better, visit the local market. Not just my usual hometown market, I often drop by the markets of every place during my travels for work or fun to see the host of goodies that perfectly reflect local flairs — unnamed bundles of jungle greens, drops of wild honey, bánh bò thốt nốt, spicy bánh tằm noodles, or even hunks of yellow xôi vò that smell of coconut milk. Markets are like a mini culinary world, encapsulating all the delectable offerings of a place, both rustic and extraordinary.
Naturally, when it comes to the market, our minds jump straight to food, but to me, another element that begs to be mentioned is market sounds. The familiar symphony of market noises is composed of regional dialects that are both lively and fast-paced, the clunking of metal, the sharp thuds of knives chopping meat, the splashing of fresh fish in basins, the calls of vendors, and the clamorous bargaining of shoppers.
One session a day, as regular as the sun, this symphony has remained just as cacophonous and dynamic, and only seems to abate when the market session is about to finish and people head home for the day. Markets are also a conducive space for people to exchange pleasantries, discuss farmwork, and give out invitations to special occasions like weddings and death anniversaries. My trips to the market are often truncated by the greetings of the vendors who have known me for decades, not just to sell me stuff, but also to show their affection to neighbors.
These days, chợ quê has advanced greatly compared to before; my mom used to tell me stories of how small markets were, decades ago. With just a few dozen fixed vendors, the sessions often finished early, and late afternoons were desolate and empty. The fields back then were immense and the canals were distant, so people only did their shopping twice a week. Gradually, means of transportation improved, so market visits became a more frequent part of life.
Existing in today’s economy in modern times, one must accept the fact that without adapting and renewal, traditional markets risk being replaced. Most urgently, online shops, convenience stores and supermarket chains have majorly impacted the livelihood of traditional markets, chipping away their past market shares in the retail pie. To preserve chợ quê, localities have improved the way they maintain and run markets.
Over the past 10 years, provincial officials have organized events and activities to attract private investments and renovate markets to fix worn-down infrastructures. For older adults like my mother and grandma, these new changes to markets are a welcome change, as to them, in spite of the range of modern shopping options, market trips are still an addicting hobby and an ingrained habit that can’t be replaced.
Besides, luring more tourists is also another solution to help pad over the voids left by shoppers who took their wallet to online platforms. This could help vendors have sustainable income and create new tourism products for rural provinces. That way, markets can be more than just trading places, but also a venue for localities to preserve their local heritage. Naturally, a trip to Mũi Né might require a visit to Hòn Rơm’s fishing market, or to Ngã Năm floating market in Sóc Trăng, and Đà Lạt Market while in the Central Highlands tourist town.
In addition to daily market sessions, some markets are famous nationwide for their special annual sessions. Nam Định Province’s Viềng Market is only available from the evening of the 7th day of Tết to the early morning of the 8th. Across regions of Vietnam, there are also chợ phiên that’s held weekly, monthly or even quarterly. Each of these infrequent markets offer visitors a chance to buy special goodies from regional artisans — a rare community space for locals and tourists to interact.
Mũi Né's fishing market. Photo via Dân Trí.
Whether large or small, regionally famed or just simply makeshift, each market contains a wealth of delights that stay in your mind. Each era and each locality might spawn a slightly different variation of chợ quê, but as long as the market has been with you through your formative years, nurturing your mind and body, you’ll always find it endlessly fascinating.
I firmly believe that, even though many new commercial platforms might appear, traditional markets will endure, rooted deep in the daily routines of our moms and grandmas. Conserving slivers of our traditional lifestyle requires not only protection, but also promoting and sharing their unique qualities so they can become part of the pulse of our modern life.
