Mac-Wow!

Went away this bank holiday weekend to Macau, kind of near to Hong Kong and attached to mainland China. Until 1999 it was Portuguese, in the same way that until 1997 Hong Kong was British. They’re both now Chinese again. If only the Iraq situation was that simple.



It was about 2am when we got to our hotel in Downtown Macau, only ten minutes from the airport, and slap bang in the middle of casino land. We decided the best thing to do would be to head out and find a bar in a casino and get some food. The casino fronts were all glitzy interchanging bright lights, shuffling through various neon/LED pictures of playing cards, chips, coloured patterns and, bizarrely, fish. Inside our first casino we were expecting a stock exchange atmosphere – all shouting and clattering. In fact, the atmosphere was closer to that of a library: hoards stooped over desks studying their cards quietly and seriously. They were playing games that we didn’t understand, and everybody seemed to be drinking tea.



Interested, but disappointed by the heavy atmosphere and lack of bar, we left and went to find somewhere to eat. Wandering up a sidestreet, I was struck by the presence of several beautiful women who seemed to be waiting around for their friends. I told Ella that none of them were as beautiful as her, of course, but also remarked that I’d never seen so many attractive women in such a small amount of space. I wondered whether Macau was going to be like this wherever we went. Perhaps they had special genes or something. Ella informed me that she suspected that they might be prostitutes, at which I kept my eyes glued to the ground until we reached the other end of the street where we got some fried rice. I ate the rice while Ella gave me a running commentary on the business transactions taking place outside.



Visually Macau reminded me a bit of Shinjuku in Tokyo – all lights and people, shops open well into the early hours. In Shinjuku, though, there exists a kind of synesthesia: sights merge with the sounds of all those colourful shops, arcades and Pachinko joints and fill the streets with sparkly cacophonous mayhem; flashing aural overload; blinding earth-quaking noise. In contrast, Macau was all sight and no sound. It reminded me of the end of Hitchcock’s The Birds when Mitch, Melanie and Lydia gingerly leave the house and walk to the car with the threatening birds lining lampposts, perching on cars and sitting on telephone wires, silently watching them. The threat of the eerie hush.



Fortunately, the next morning revealed Macau in a much more favourable light. We went on a walk through some of the main tourist attractions (other than casinos). Mostly the attractions were architectural, and Portuguese-influenced. We particularly liked the colourful cobbles of Senado Square, cheerful old churches and the Fort at the top of the hill which yielded stunning views.







Most importantly for us, lots of things were old. Really old. Historical, you might say. Living in Singapore, old buildings are few and far between. Indeed, a building forty years of age is classified as old. Some buildings may have ‘1820’ stamped on them, but they look as if they were built yesterday. Like Trigger’s brush in Only Fools and Horses, which he claimed he’d used for twenty odd years, but then revealed had had five new handles and twelve new brushes, in Singapore I get the impression that the building may have gone up in 1820, but since then it’s had all of its 1820-ness knocked down and replaced. Macau, though, had really old stuff that they had let grow old. Like 500 years old. I know that’s nothing compared to Stonehenge, but I’m just not used to it anymore.



The ruins of St Paul’s church (below) is a case in point. It was destroyed by fire in the 1800s apart from the steps and the facade. Instead of knocking it down, they kept it there and it is beautiful. In Singapore it would be Starbucks in seconds.







We also managed to see China for the first time, which lies about 500 metres across the water from Coloane Island. We didn’t make the trip this time (too little time to spend waiting around for a visa), but one day....



I should probably mention the food, too. As I'm sure you can imagine, there's a European-Asian- with-colonial-influences fusion thing going on in Macau. I'd recommend the African chicken with a Portuguese green wine. And the pear and sesame seed dim sum was a pleasant breakfast. It's always nice to see a doyley, too.



On the third and fourth nights we made forays back to the casinos. We shunned the one we went in on the first night, choosing instead to go to a fairly new one run by an American company. The atmosphere was much better. There was a bar and everything. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a game that a) I wanted to play and b) I understood. Baccarat looked confusing, but seemed to be by far the most popular game. I watched a few hands and was slightly less confused, but still didn’t really get it.

The only kind of poker they had was Caribbean Stud, which is a five card game with what seemed like no bluffing involved. What was the point of me spending hours in front of the mirror perfecting my poker face?

There were some strange dice games which I wasn’t interested in because there were no seats for the players.

The only roulette I found was a machine-operated wheel: no click-clack of the ball being thrown? No little man with white gloves doing the throwing? No long stick with which he collects chips? No thank you.

The only game I understood well enough to play was Blackjack, which I’ve always known as Pontoon. I’d saved up a few coppers in the hope that I might have a little gamble, but the minimum bet we could find was 100 Hong Kong dollars, which is about six quid. I was hoping for some tables for cheapskates like me, but it seems that gambling in Macau is a very serious business. My coppers didn’t go very far, unfortunately, and when I did get some chips, Ella found it amusing to throw them on the floor as if in a tantrum. With cameras everywhere, I was expecting to be escorted from the premises quick-time. When she’d stopped laughing, she picked them up and gave them back to me. I spent a while pretending I didn’t know who she was until I felt the danger had passed and, after finally deciding that I probably should start speaking to her again, I suggested that we sit down at a Blackjack table. Ten minutes later, after a few wins but more losses, our chips were spent.

I would have gladly spent a couple of hours wasting the same amount of money if only they’d let me.

Just a little tip for you: it seems that the casino pretty much always wins in the end.