Colbinski Chronicles: HONG KONG 2007: Queuing, Kids, and Gambling on Dinner

Macau is an old Portuguese colony given over to China in a similar way the British gave over Hong Kong. Macau is also a mecca of gambling with casino construction about as far as the eye could see.* For an in-depth article about Macau and all this gambling read James Fallows' excellent article from The Atlantic.**

Macau is about an hour speed-ferry ride from HK. Sister Anne worked on Macau and was heading back so Aunt Helen and some of the other nuns decided to bring me along to see it. Other than the cool town center, which was a remnant of Portuguese rule, and the Temple of AH-MA all I remember of Macau was gaudy casinos and loads of construction. The temples are more out of control on Macau than in HK. The incense sticks were bigger, the smoke thicker, the people noisier (or more devout?), and the animal sacrifices greater. There was one annoying experience, one touching experience, and one funny experience all worth recounting from that day in Macau.

You need to show your passport to get into Macau but not if you are a HK resident. All the nuns were either residents of HK or Macau and breezed easily out of the customs area from the ferry arrival terminal. I was stuck in the terminal with hundreds of mainland Chinese who also had to show passports.*** Evidently, this was before the Chinese government started etiquette classes on proper queuing for their citizens in the run-up to the Olympics. I was stuck in the middle of a mass of humanity just shoving and pushing in every direction. This sea of people swept me to and fro, the jostling as bad as the bumpy ride on the speed-ferry. I just went with it trying to keep moving forward to the five feet of metal rails that constituted actual delineation before reaching the customs officer. Once somebody in front of me stepped on a discarded puke bag from the ferry. This popped open the bag emitting a viscous substance and an ungodly odor. I promptly stepped in it and could hardly hold back my own vomit. Thankfully, the pushing and the shoving drove me away from that area quickly (and dissipated any residue on my sneaker.) After an hour of this I finally made it through and met the nuns, who had the temerity to ask what took me so long.

So I am in Macau. The Temple of AH-MA. St. Paul’s façade. St. Dominic’s church. Some bones of Japanese martyrs. A couple of museums. Some gaudy casinos. Sightseeing out of the way. I venture along with Aunt Helen, Sister Ann Marie, Sister Susan, and Sister Anne to the Macau Social Center where they work. This is an area of town close to the border with China and out of the way from the casinos. Mainly poorer people in this part and the Center provides services for children. The Sisters ask me if I wouldn’t mind dropping in on the kids, as they don’t really see any Westerners other than the nuns. The kids are in an art class and considering their ages, probably from 6 years old to 10 years, old they can all draw spectacularly well. I am pointed out and then stared at with wonder. They are all wearing sports jerseys of American basketball teams or irregular t-shirts**** One little boy asks me “How are you?” Other children giggle. I answer “Fine. How are you?” To which many voices answer “Fine. How are you?” Ignoring the second part of the their response and thinking they may know English I ask about their drawings eliciting only blank faces. Apparently, they don’t know English but do know how to answer “Fine. How are you?” I spent some time laughing with them and playing a bit and looking at their drawings. It was nice.

Then we went to dinner. I forget which casino we had dinner. Maybe the Wynn. Anyway, it was an upscale restaurant within. Aunt Helen knew some vice president of the casino and managed to get us hooked up with a nice meal.***** Or so she thought. This VP never materialized; he was actually supposed to sup with us. Meanwhile, the nuns are ordering whatever they want and even partaking in a glass of nice wine. Good for them. I do the same. Now seconds becomes dessert and still no VP. The nuns begin to panic a bit. Whereas there were little jokes directed to Aunt Helen about “doing the dishes” and such, the tone now became more serious. Aunt Helen, in a near panic, keeps asking the waitress or the maitre d’ to try and find this guy. Every few minutes she is hounding some employee to track him down. The rest of the nuns visibly worry about how to pay for this meal. As calmly as I could I mention that no problem exists, I’ll put it on my credit card and, really, there is no need to worry. This does nothing to squash the sense of palpable despair coming from the nuns. Finally, Aunt Helen gets him on the horn and he apologizes for not being able to make it and gives the word that, of course, the meal is on the casino. Disaster averted. Whew! I don’t think dessert was enjoyed by anyone but me.

So that’s Macau. Photos following my addendums.

*No actual gambling occurred at any Macau casinos. In fact on my quick, brief walk through two ultra-gaudy casinos I didn’t even recognize the table games. If I saw a blackjack table and thought I could extricate myself from the nuns I may have played a little bit.

**For any Sinophiles reading, I suggest James Fallows' blog at The Atlantic website for an always interesting perspective on China.

***A funny quip from Aunt Helen that I heard numerous times during my week stay: “No Hong Kong resident has committed a crime since 1999.” This implied that all crimes and other annoyances were caused by visitors from mainland China.

****I was told that many poor people here get irregular clothes from the multitude of factories in China. When a mistake is made on a batch and they can’t sell it in a western country they place them for sale or give them away in some of the poorer regions. It is doubtful that most of them know what their shirts say. I saw a bunch of shirts festooned with sexual innuendo on very young girls.

*****Aunt Helen knows a lot of people in Hong Kong. She also knows a lot of well off people though charity work she performs. Later on in the trip a priest friend of hers asked what we had been doing and after I mentioned some of the fine dining establishments and places I have been with some of Aunt Helen’s friends he declared, “Oh, Helen is introducing you to all her la-de-da friends.”

Aunt Helen in the quaint town center of Macau