The first thing after I got off the plane was not to get past the immigration, but to prevent a certain watery explosion. However, much to my vexation, the layout was such that the toilets are only available after the immigration counters. I guess with flights coming in as frequent as rocket launches, the immigration officers need as much entertainment as they can get.
Coming out of the arrival hall, I made a beeline for their tourist counter and picked up every single brochures, maps and pamphlets they had. After all, my Frommer’s guide book was more useful for swatting flies than actually providing good information.
I had not made any hotel reservations as usual, and based on the four pages budget hotel brochure which I spent ten minutes perusing through (hoping that the longer I looked, the more information other than what was printed would materialise). Finally I just picked one and hoped for the best.
Next came the way to Macau island (airport is at Coloane island). Bus or taxi? One cost MOP3.30 and the other around MOP60. A no brainer right? Right. I took the taxi. It gets me to my intended hotel fast and I wouldn’t waste time getting lost.
One thing about travelling on a Macau taxi, you would wished they had installed a defillibrator inside. It was tough not to notice the meter running as every hundred metres it travelled, the meter will beep once. Every beep you hear is a dollar more. Before we even got out of Coloane island, it had already beeped a heart-stopping 35 times (not counting the hop-on fee). Of course this is in local currency, which is five times more than ours. However, thinking in absolute terms, it was still scary.
I managed to get a room at East Asia Hotel. A windowless room no bigger than three toilet cubicles added up. The lifts up to the floors was even smaller, three quarter of a toilet cubicle. It makes better sense to take the stairs than the lift since most of the time it was full.
My 3 toilet cubicles of space
Once settled down I started hitting the roads. It was tough getting my bearings based on the map. First of all, the maps showed names of mostly major roads. Secondly, the road/street names are not displayed at every junctions or corners, which made comparing with the map a tad challenging. I happily got lost during the first few hours until I caught my bearings and the knack of getting around.
In the process of getting lost, I came upon Luis de Camoes Garden (I think), one of the attractions listed. Only thing was, I came upon St Bernard as well at what I thought was the entrance. A humungous St Bernard.
Whacha looking at?
Deciding that retreat was the best course of action before it chew my legs off, I headed towards the famed St Paul’s Church. Streets leading to and with Senado Square itself are paved with yellow tiles in 1993 to further enhance the European architecture at Senado Square. Walking on these tiled streets made me feel like walking down the yellow brick road to Oz.
To Oz
One of the most interesting things about Macau’s urban setting is that although the feel is like Hong Kong, it has a mixture of modern buildings, historical buildings, old buildings and even defunct buildings catering to various uses (cultural, religious, commercial etc) giving it a unique atmosphere.
Huff, puff and I blow these away
By the time I reach St Paul’s, it was already late noon. Being a Saturday, there was a huge crowd there mainly made up of Mainland and Hong Kong tourists. St Paul, to my mind, has become a tourism symbol of Macau. No matter which guide book or website about Macau, there is most likely a mention of or an image of St Paul.
St Paul day and night
Built in the 17th century and destroyed by a fire in 1835, all that left of St Paul’s is its façade and the crypt, which is turned into the Museum of Sacred Art. Built behind the façade of St Paul is a metal walkway which allows people to view out from the second floor windows. In each of the windows, there are coins lying on the sills. Presumably, some thought by throwing coins and making a wish, it will receive sacred acknowledgement.
I walked up to the walkway and had a good view of the stairs to St Paul, until I looked down and my legs started quivering. I forgot, I was standing two storeys up, on a metal walkway with too many people on it. It was time to get down.