M-whY

I woke up rather late, a result of staying out past my bedtime the night before. Getting to my aunt's place from my friend's took an hour by public transportation, and by the time I took a proper shower, changed into some clean clothes, and returned
back downtown to catch the ferry, it was 2:30pm.

Macau, like Hong Kong, is a Special Administrative Region (SAR) of China, meaning it enjoys a high degree of autonomy. Visiting meant I had to get my Hong Kong exit stamp and receive a Macau visa. For this reason, I hadn't been able to visit until I collected my passport from the travel agency.

A comfortable, high speed, catamaran made the sea journey in about an hour. By the time I was properly in Macau, it was almost 4:00pm. Most of the sights closed their doors at 6:00pm, so in order to save time, I tried hailing a cab to take me from the ferry terminal to city center. Taxis are abound in the streets, but finding one that wasn't already occupied proved harder than I imagined. I eventually got one, and it dropped me off in front of black and white Civic & Municipal Affairs Bureau.

Across the street was Senado Square and its charming villas, that on closer inspection, are now occupied by the McDonald's and Starbucks empire. I walked along streets still bearing Portuguese names, until I reached the ruins of the Church of St Paul. Built in 17th century, all that remains of this Christian monument is the front facade. At the rear was the Chapel-Crypt where its believed that the founder, Father Alexandre Valignano, lies. Behind glass panels on the side rests bones of Vietnamese and Japanese martyrs who fled their homes to escape religious persecution.

Nearby was the Monte Fort, with its advantageous view over the city. Cannons guarded the grounds, but are reportedly to have been only fired once, during an attempted Dutch invasion. I was running out of time, so I didn't linger long. I returned back to street level, and managed to flag down another taxi.

"[Take me here?]" I asked, pointing at the tourist map I had picked up.

"[Read it to me.]" said the driver.

My chinese is good enough that I recognized two of the three characters, but I didn't want to guess at the third.

"[I can't read,]" I admitted. He got his reading glasses from the glove compartment and deciphered it for me.

"Ma-Gu-Miao. English, A-Ma temple. You from Korea?"

I let him think that and didn't say much for the rest of the ride. Instead, I concentrated on the clock, which was steadily approaching 6:00pm. A-Ma temple, is dedicated to a goddess better known as Tin Hau. As the story goes, she was a poor girl trying to get to Canton (Guangzhou), who was turned away by prosperous merchants. A not-so-well-off fisherman took her in, and not long afterwards, a storm wrecked the area, destroying every boat except that of the fisherman's. Upon returning to shore, A-Ma ascended to heaven in an aura of light. In her honor, A-Ma temple was built.

Its construction preceded the arrival of the Portuguese, and its also believed that when they did, learned that they were at A-Ma-Gau (Bay of A-Ma). It's not too far a stretch to see where the name Macau might've come from. For this reason, I was keen to include this attraction on my list of places to see. I got there on the hour, but unfortunately, the doors were already shut. The best I could do was look around its perimeters.

Macau Tower didn't close til 9:00pm, so with time to spare, I eschewed another taxi in favor of public transportation. By studying the tourist map, I concluded bus 18 would bring me there. It shouldn't have taken long to reach the tower from A-Ma temple, but soon I found myself weaving through the maze-like streets. More and more people piled aboard; The vehicle had to have exceeded its maximum occupation. An hour and a half passed, still with no sign of reaching my destination. I glanced at my map again. There it was, the number 18, next to the Macau Tower.

Well, what must've happened was that I got on the bus going the wrong way. I ended up all the way on the other side of Macau, at the border crossing to China proper. Seeing the Macau Tower was no longer possible. By the time I reached it, it would've been closed. Not that it's a great loss. It's only the tenth tallest of its kind in the world.

Signs led me to a free shuttle bus to the Sands casino, which I knew was close to the ferry terminal. Macau, like Hong Kong, has its own currency, the pataca, and in my half day excursion, I had only managed to spend 200 of the 500MOP I withdrew from the ATM (US$1 = 8MOP). Since I was already here, why not place a bet at one of the tables?

Unfortunately though, none of the casinos would accept my crude backpacker attire. They all pointed at my sandals and effectively told me to get lost. (In much nicer words of course.) With nothing else to do, I bought my return ticket to Hong Kong, disappointed I wouldn't return to Hong Kong richer than I left it. Hey, I think positive when it comes to gambling!

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