3 hours in Macau
We couldn’t have chosen the most auspicious (to borrow a Chinese Astrology word to mean the opposite) time to see Macau. We woke up really late — at 11 am we rushed from Lockhart Road to Sheung Wan Station. The moment we stepped out of the safety enclosure of the apartment, the chill clawed at us. The new jacket that I bought offered very little protection.
The TurboJet is the HK version of our SuperCat. I think we got ours from the Chinks at a year-end sale. It’s bigger than our fast crafts but not entirely impervious to the angry waves. The water reminded me of latte with the white froth and it worsened the puking reflex that I have been trying to keep at bay.
I asked for the puke bag and the attendant cheerfully handed me the menu: “Food,” he said. “No, I don’t want food. I want to puke,” and I made puking actions. He dashed back with the puke bag and I think he was silently cursing me or maybe praying for the gods to spare his boat from my puke.
Macau is relatively cheaper than HK. We were able to get noodle soups at decent prices and the tastiest jerky at 50 MOP a kilo. It was the deal of the day. We went to some casinos but we didn’t really try our luck at the tables — not my idea of fun anyway.
Macau is Christmas decor meets Chinese lanterns. A mash-up of culture and architecture. In some aspects, cheesy, in other, outright wacky. And I cannot connect it to Vegas.
a lamp inside MGM
oranges and flowers near senado square
chinese boxes at some antique shop
centre of attraction for the day
casino lisboa as viewed from whynn