Living
Within a year of becoming first-time parents, Amanda Cheong and Stanley Cheah gave up two steady incomes to turn their shared obsession into a thriving business – Hidden Heritage.
Hidden Heritage’s Stanley Cheah and Amanda Cheong (left) offer tours to different parts of Singapore, including Jalan Besar. (Photo: Hidden Heritage)
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02 May 2026 06:17AM (Updated: 02 May 2026 10:52AM)
When Amanda Cheong told her father she was quitting her banking job to run tours of abandoned places in Singapore with her husband, his reaction was not exactly encouraging.
“My dad said: the only people who would be interested in visiting these places are gangsters looking for places to do drugs and sniff glue,” said the 38-year-old.
Her father’s reservations were valid. A tour company catering to Singaporeans did not seem promising enough for the couple to leave behind their lucrative careers in banking and finance, especially not with a baby less than a year old.
Hidden Heritage’s Amanda Cheong and Stanley Cheah leading a tour group. (Photo: Hidden Heritage) But three years on, the risk seems to have paid off. Hidden Heritage now runs 20 tours a month, taking participants to places ranging from the former Shell Lubricant Blending Plant to the one-room rental estates of Lavender. Its clientele has also branched out into schools and organisations, offering learning journeys, corporate retreats and consultancy.
“It’s definitely been crazy,” said Stanley Cheah, as the 27-year-old reflected on his journey. “Who would’ve thought that we can make a full-time income from exploring abandoned places? Never in my life did I think that would be possible.”
GROWING A SIDE HUSTLEThose who know the couple well would not be surprised by any of this. Both have always been drawn to the roads less travelled, which is also, fittingly, how they found each other despite an 11-year age gap.
In 2020, Cheong came across Cheah’s Instagram, which was full of photos documenting abandoned places across Singapore. They dated and got married three years later, holding an all-black goth wedding at a former She’ll lubrication plant.
That same venue was the first place the couple thought of when they started toying with the idea of running urban exploration tours as a side hustle. Getting the authorities to sign off on it, however, was not so simple.
“They were like: Why do you want to feature this run-down place? Why don’t you feature our newly renovated colonial properties, which are much more beautiful?”, Cheah recalled.
Over the next few months, the couple worked through layers of red tape, conducting risk assessments and putting safety measures in place. When they finally received approval and launched the tour in September 2024, tickets sold out quickly. They began running sessions on weekends and kept things that way for five months.
Then came late 2024: Cheong stepped away from her job to become a stay-at-home mum, while Cheah, fresh out of school, was let go by his employer.
“It hit me then that even though I have a family to provide for, my rice bowl could be taken away just like that.”
After applying to several roles without hearing back, he thought this might be the perfect time to turn their side hustle into a proper business. The couple decided to take the plunge, despite the nerves of transitioning from a DINK (or double income, no kids) household to a family without the safety net of steady incomes.
“I was very afraid that things were going to go downhill, and I part-timed at event jobs that paid S$12 an hour at the start. It suddenly felt like I was a student again,” said Cheong.
Fortunately, the adjustment period was short-lived, thanks to Cheah’s knack for content creation. As Hidden Heritage grew its social media presence, the views and engagement slowly turned into tour bookings.
“That really was the turning point for Hidden Heritage.”
CAPTURING THE IMAGINATION OF YOUTHSThe idea of playing tourist in your own city may have been dismissed as a passing trend when travel was restricted during the COVID-19 period, but Hidden Heritage’s tours suggest otherwise. Their secret, apparently, is “immersive, story-driven heritage tours that uncover forgotten corners of Singapore.”
Through these experiences, locals gain rare access to spaces usually out of reach – from the former Communicable Disease Centre on Moulmein Road (now discontinued) to the back-of-house of heritage businesses in Jalan Besar.
“Singaporeans are drawn to our tours because they allow them to ‘legally trespass’ buildings they’ve been curious about but have only been able to see from the outside,” said Cheah.
Getting permission to enter these spaces, whether from government agencies or private landlords, is just the first step. After that comes deep research into each site’s history, often involving niche interest groups and personal contacts the couple has tracked down online.
But information alone doesn’t make a tour. According to Cheong, it’s the guide who makes the difference. The best guides, she said, should feel like hosts who are showing participants around their own space. This is a departure from the scripted delivery many seasoned guides still rely on, but which no longer resonates with younger audiences.
“I think we managed to attract the younger generation because we understand that their attention spans are quite short, so we try to deliver the information in an impactful and concise way.”
During the tour, participants are also invited to handle artefacts such as banana money and a propaganda magazine from the Japanese Occupation. These items, painstakingly sourced through personal contacts and platforms like Carousell, help bring the guides’ stories to life.
The richest material, though, often comes from the participants themselves. At a tour of the former Shell Lubricant Blending Plant, a participant who used to work there as site supervisor drew the group’s attention to a small kinked panel near the top of the building.
“He told everyone: ‘Look through it and tell me if it’s a good day to go to Johor Bahru’,” recalled Cheong.
It turned out that workers in the 1960s had deliberately bent the panel to catch a glimpse of the Causeway, decades before anyone could check traffic conditions on a phone.
A secret view of the Causeway from the former Shell Lubricant Blending Plant. (Photo: Hidden Heritage) Week after week, the tour evolves as participants contribute their own stories. By its final run, Cheong noted, it often looks very different from where it began.
“Actually, you’ll find that it’s more worth it to go for the last tour because we would’ve crowdsourced many stories by then.”
EXPOSING SINGAPORE’S UNDERBELLYIt was a participant’s offhand suggestion that led the couple to explore the neighbourhood of Lavender, and to one of Hidden Heritage’s most distinctive tours: Don’t Call Us Poor: Hidden Lives Of Lavender.
The tour takes participants through one-room flats that marked Singapore’s shift from shophouse and kampung to high-rise living, and which today are often occupied by seniors living on their own. A highlight of the tour is a visit to Uncle Chow, one of the estate’s residents, whose home often leaves a lasting impression on visitors.
“When you step into his house, your jaw will really drop. His home looks like an enchanted forest, and it’s kind of like a living museum.”
Uncle Chow, whom Cheong calls a “renegade”, has been asked by the Housing Development Board (HDB) on more than one occasion to remove what he has built. Rather than resigning to his fate, he puts it back every time, treating it as an opportunity to hone his craft. Although he has been featured in the media before, Uncle Chow has never before opened his home to the public – until now.
During the tours, Uncle Chow shares zealously about his days as a member of a secret society, his years as a contractor, and how he works with mosaic tiles.
“Because he does mosaic tile art, he managed to sell quite a lot of pieces to our participants. Our tours help him to stay active and earn some extra income,” said Cheong.
The same goes for the heritage businesses on the tour route, including a 60-year-old bakery selling old-school confectioneries.
Making sure the community benefits is one way the couple conducts the tours with respect. They also run them in small groups just twice a month, navigating the estate discreetly and heading straight for their destination.
While Cheah acknowledged that the tour’s name can be provocative, he noted that its message has little to do with socio-economic circumstances.
“If anything, what we’re trying to say is that these residents may not have much, but they’re actually richer than us in so many ways,” he said.
In a city where buildings with decades of history are demolished every other day, Hidden Heritage’s tours are, in a sense, a way for Singaporeans to remember their country.
Jalan Besar tour participants. (Photo: Hidden Heritage) “Like what one of our friends said: a city without a heritage is like a person without a memory. There’s no soul in it,” said Cheong.
From the start, the couple hoped to get younger Singaporeans who tend to look abroad for adventures to see their own city with fresh eyes. Now, they’re encouraged to find some participants asking for tour dates early so they can plan their travel around them.
Hosting these tours has also changed how Cheong sees the place she grew up in.
“I used to hate Singapore for the same, old reasons: It’s boring. There are no mountains. The weather is hot. Everything is about school and work. But ever since we started Hidden Heritage, I’ve come to really like my country.”