In Which I See more of Macau and have an Eventful Trip Home

Macau/HK, February 9-10.

For some reason, I had a really hard time sleeping in the same room as hippie girl. It was nothing personal--not that she snored, or made me especially uncomfortable. It's just that I'm not used to sleeping five feet away from someone I don't know. I guess I'm spoiled. It may also have had to do with the fact that I'd had about four drinks, a lot for me.

On only a few hours sleep I trundled blearily down to breakfast where I ended up sitting with the Director again, and a couple other people. The number of people who actually made it down for the free breakfast was really small.

I was in the lobby waiting for the buses, having checked out and checked my luggage, when suddenly I realized I had forgotten my coat. Easy to do--it was sweltering! But I knew I'd be pretty darn cold back in Beijing if I left it behind! No, they couldn't just hand be back the key. I'd have to wait for housekeeping. By some miracle, they actually did come and meet me at the door of 1249, let me in to grab my coat (but not, sadly, my brown housedress that I later realized I had also left there!! it comes of packing in a terrible hurry after too little sleep!). The bus was waiting for me when I got down. At least it was waiting, but yes, I was the one holding things up. I hate that.

And why did we have to hustle onto buses at 9 AM? In order to trundle down to the university and hear lectures about Macau--its economic situation, its history, its politics. They provided coffee but did not allow it into the lecture hall. Therefore, we were all pretty bleary-eyed. I won't repeat what they said here--most of it I mentioned in my last post anyway.

After a substantial morning snack--sandwiches, egg custards--we had discussions with some of the students at the American University of Macau. About half were from Macau, and half from mainland China. The Macanese students said lectures were in English, but they talked to each other in Cantonese. The mainland students said they could understand Cantonese but not speak it. Why had they come here? If they didn't make the grade in the Chinese high school exam; if they wanted to go abroad eventually and could use this as a sort of stepping stone; if they wanted greater political freedom. Somehow we got talking about the Japanese, and one of the Macanese girls had a really great point of view on the matter--that one should never forget of course, but that one should also let the past rest. I agree with that. One of the mainland students seemed to chide her for her lack of understanding about "our tragic history"!

Lunch in their school cafeteria. The view out the back window was strange. Landfill? And then something beyond, some structures but I couldn't tell if they were ruins or foundations.

We got back on the buses and were given maps and bottles of water. It was, I kid you not, at least 80 degrees.

First stop, the Protestant cemetery. If you read the dates and started adding it up, it was a really sad place. Lots of women in their twenties "fell asleep in Jesus." Lots of men in their thirties died of their injuries or illness. Children, some very young. Almost no one over fifty, except for sailors on ships who sailed in and never sailed out. It was not a healthy place for Protestants.

For some reason, I have failed to take any good pictures--too busy talking, I think. But here is one a sort of so-so one. The tree roots are pushing up under the sarcophagus. If you look closely, the date on it is 1422.

From there we walked up to the historical museum. It was rather a nice one, in a small-scale way. I believe it had been build inside an old fort. The entrance hall had artifacts of Chinese and European civilization facing each other--warily? curiously?--across the aisle. A statue of Confucius, a bust of Socrates, that sort of thing. It really was kind of thought-provoking.

I can't even begin to describe all the things that were in there--living spaces, maritime things, art and letters, furniture, bits and pieces. Here is a bed to match the sarcophagus.


And a picture of a little mock street, each house with something historical inside:


There was enough time to have a good look at the whole museum, which also tired us out a lot. Here are also some photos from the roof-garden, where the building's fort-like nature became apparent.



I like how the lotuses were already blooming--in February!


Should have gone to the museum store but didn't. Sorry guys, no postcards. But I could hardly have fit one more thing in my pack anyway.

After this, a walking tour through the town. by then, we were all completely exhausted. Still, a couple more random tropical pictures.



Despite the fact that we were all too tired to enjoy it, I have to admit that the pairings were nicely designed: a 16th century Catholic church right across from a modern temple to--I kid you not--the gods of commerce. Incense coils in the latter, imperfect because of the low light, but neat looking.


At last we ended up in the an old theater. We were meant to see a computer slide-show presentation about historical Macau, but predictably there were projector issues, and the pleasant Portuguese lady had to give her talk without. MT and FP were sitting behind me, and MT gave me a small shove when I started to doze off. Actually, I thought the things she had to say were really interesting. I was just too exhausted to take anything more in.

Here is the entire group of us (or at least those who hadn't straggled away or left early).

The buses took us back to the hotel to collect our luggage, and then to the ferry-port. It was by now after 6 PM. When we got out at the ferry-port at 6:45, we found out that there was one to Kowloon at 7. I had arranged to share a hotel room with a new friend LH, and she was for taking the 7, so I was too. FP did, and another friend of mine, CC, a photographer whom I had met up with again in Beijing last October and had dinner with. (Sorry about all the initials.) An anthropology student at Beida, I've forgotten his name. And a funny, radio-voiced ABC guy who had brought his mother. The others opted to take the next one.

We grabbed our tickets and ran. Actually, we were making pretty good time when we hit customs. Some rude men in suits tried to cut in front of us, explaining impatiently that they would miss their boat if we didn't let them go first! ABC guy explained that we were all "in the same boat" so to speak, and they could wait their turn. They were incredibly rude about it. Round about this time, I was panicking because my passport was--somewhere loose in my bag. I knew it was. I just couldn't put my hand on it in the crowd and the hurry! The rest of my party went through ahead with many concerned backward looks. Then the rude men, who were also rude to the customs agent. The customs agent got angry and decided to teach them a lesson by going extra slow. I found my passport but then was stuck behind these mean men, who were getting angrier and ruder, and making the customs lady go even slower. It was a graphic demonstration of how being rude is counter-productive--as any foreigner who's lived in China already knows.

I got through at last. We raced to get our seats, LH, FP, and I. The others were already ahead. It was 6:58. But, miracle of miracles, we made it.

I had had a pounding headache most of the day, obviously not alleviated by all the anxiety. Now I had finally had a chance to take the Advil I had foolishly left in my suitcase at the hotel. Also I had caught the ferry, admittedly after humiliating myself--but everyone comforted me that since it had all turned out all right the misfortune only made the feeling of triumph greater. LH, who had grown up in Chinatown, had some salty-sweet dried plums, and she and FP and I all munched on these to keep seasickness at bay, sitting side by side. It was surprisingly effective. The water was choppy, but we chattered happily. FP said we should get together for the spring festival (which we did, in fact). I thought back over the day--everyone else had been as utterly exhausted as I--and said that the feeling of shared adversity made me feel so close to them all. Everyone laughed. People switched out SIM cards (I'd just left my phone off the whole time) and made efforts to contact friends in HK. I felt really tired but happy.

We disembarked and scattered our separate ways, having all made separate hotel arrangements, promising to meet up again. LH and I, with some effort, caught a taxi. LH speaks Cantonese! It was awesome. We stayed at the YMCA, a modest room but it felt like heaven. LH was going out with a friend and handsomely invited me but I begged off. Instead, I rested for a short while. I didn't feel at all hungry. Macanese food is really rich and they had been feeding us every few hours, most recently at 4 in the afternoon, tea at the theater coffee-shop. Still, I decided I should make an effort to go out and grab a bite of something.

I surprised myself by finding the streets of Kowloon incredibly fun. Yes, I was almost too tired to stand up, but somehow I found the energy to walk miles. It was a very hot night--I was sweating in a t-shirt and jeans! It's hard to define how the street were different from Beijing streets, except to say that they were selling stuff you actually wanted to buy. And the people looked well-fed and comfortable and happy. And no one was spitting. There were pedestrian streets like the one here, just going on and on. Then there were street-markets set up, canvas-sided, but charming instead of sketchy, smelling of good food, glittering with pretty things. Usually I'm not one for pretty things, but it was so cheerfully prosperous somehow, I felt great affection for it.

In the end, I stopped at a place called Healthy Dessert, and had this for dinner. The waitress spoke only Cantonese, but I understood just fine. Some people are like that--my bro's host mother in Costa Rica with her Spanish--natural communicators get their meaning across to me regardless of whether I understand their words.

Later I found a Starbucks. Unlike in Beijing, the wireless wasn't free. But at least they HAD wireless. I went back for my laptop and had a chat with Pocket of Bolts--we hadn't communicated in real-time all the time I had been in Macau and I felt... well, I realized how important our communication routines really are. It was such a relief to chat with him again, even if it was only typing (I hadn't brought camera or microphone).

I got back to the hotel just after LH did. I slept no better in the twin bed across from her than I did across from hippie girl, but at least I had a bed to sleep in!

We got up early and caught a double-decker bus to the airport (we sat on top). On the way we passed miles and miles of container yards--that's what's behind HK's affluence, I guess. It was quite a sight.

LH really knows how to buy things! She is from NYC, and has a natural instinct for things like incredibly delicious smoothie bars. Can you believe this cup is made of corn starch?! Why doesn't it melt? But the smoothie was incredibly good. It was so good I had another! We also ended up with some special "dragon beard" candy, really expensive and, well, gifty looking. Still have it, not sure who to give it too, but the free sample was so delicious...

Quiet flight back, except a white guy in the seat ahead of us hitting on LH with determined concentration. He was the worst--he didn't even make an effort to make conversation with me, which an effective flirt ought to do, I mean, at least a little, since LH and I were clearly friends. Whatever man. There's actually something relaxing about hanging out with someone so beautiful and fluent in two kinds of Chinese. You get to ride along in their wake, like being lady-in-waiting to a princess--you get to enjoy her company and inwardly sneer at the guys who are clearly envying you your place. And she does all the talking too! I found that I was quite secure enough in my self-esteem to do this, and meanwhile told her all I could about my experience with universities in Beijing, since she was just starting her grant. Of course she will have a much easier time than I did, but she has a humble sweet way about her that just makes you WANT to help her however you can. What a grand girl!

We parted company at the airport since a friend of hers had come to pick her up. I headed for the now-familiar shuttle, feeling achingly tired. I had been afraid that grubby dirty cold brown winter Beijing would be a drag to come back to. Oddly, though, it wasn't. It was humble and scruffy, but it was familiar. Being in HK is like being in New York City--it's so hip and affluent it puts you on edge. Being in Macau was kind of like being herded through a third world country. But Beijing--odd to say it--felt a lot more like home. Here's the crocheted water-bottle holder of the (male) Beijing bus driver. I totally want one. :)