Sunday, November 22, 2009

Macau, man-made paradise


There are many ways to lose money at the many gambling tables in Macau. But before that, there are many ways to get to Macau. You can fly directly to this resort on the south-east coast of China from many international cities. Or you can take a ferry from Hong Kong (the popular method judging by the size of the catamarans and their frequency – from the city, airport and Kowloon). Or you can take a nifty ten-minute helicopter ride from Hong Kong and experience the curious paradox of having 50 more minutes but 250 less dollars to spend at the gambling tables. From China, you can simply walk over the border.

I took the ferry. As we sped over the dark water, I marvelled at the stability of the large vessel. It spared me the sight of rampant seasickness among my fellow travellers, even those who eagerly devoured the unappetizing instant noodles served free. After an hour, it was eerie to see large skyscrapers loom suddenly out of the water… we had arrived.

At the dock, I breezed through immigration and was whisked to the hotel in five minutes in a shuttle bus. Once inside, I realized The Venetian is gigantic. After checking in at a lobby the size of a basketball court, I walked down a long corridor with oil paintings and chandeliers to reach a casino area the size of a football stadium.
 
Deciding to make a visa enquiry first, I walked through the tables and another 100 metres to find the travel desk, from where I was directed to the business centre (“down the corridor, past the meeting rooms and one level down”). Having already walked past signs to the guest rooms, I continued, not realizing I had let myself in for another kilometre of trudging with my bags on a runway-like corridor alongside large convention rooms. My work done, I finally ascended 33 floors (thankfully in a lift) but once there, my jaw dropped. “Rooms 41 to 85” were to the right and, predictably, my room was No. 84. At last, perspiring gently despite the air conditioning, I pushed open my door and stepped into a large rectangular area, half bedroom, half study-cum-living room (at 750 square feet, it’s the hotel’s smallest accommodation). The window overlooked a miniature golf course – probably the only small-sized item at The Venetian – and, across the road, gleaming glass buildings of the Hard Rock and Grand Hyatt hotels, where colourful lights played each night seemingly for the pleasure of The Venetian’s guests.

After a shower, I went to the casino. In contrast to noisy and boisterous Vegas, the atmosphere was funereally quiet. I could hear the roll of dice and the clinking of ice but not the gamblers themselves, grim men and women, mostly from China. I stood behind a table watching an unsmiling group playing a childish game of guessing whether the next number would be ‘high’ or ‘low’. Even I could do this! I cashed about US$100 for six measly chips and placed the first on ‘low’. The dice rolled… it was ‘high’. I cunningly placed another chip on ‘low’. It was ‘high’ again. With dogged stubbornness and rising panic, I squandered my remaining four chips on ‘low’ and watched ‘high’ turn up each time. Of course, on the next round, which I watched without chips, ‘low’ turned up.

Like Hong Kong, Macau is a Special Administration Region of China and is run with the same quiet efficiency under the principle of ‘one country, two systems”. (I wonder if we could persuade China to run India too.) The territory includes Macau town, connected by land to mainland China’s border city of Zhuhai Shi, and the island Cotai, accessible from Macau by bridge. “Co-tai” came into being when the Macau authorities decided that the two islands of Colaone and Taipa were not big enough and calmly filled the sea in between with land and the land with gambling tables. I wonder if, as Macau’s attraction grows, they will fill the 60-odd kilometres of sea between Cotai and Hong Kong and christen the new land mass Cai-Kong.

With my meeting slated for the afternoon, I took a taxi to Macau town the next morning. The drive – on a smooth highway with little traffic – was lined with five-star hotels, casinos and, on the Macau side, several high-rise apartments housing the local population.

Where a normal person would have visited one of Macau’s tourist attractions, I spent the morning at the Chinese embassy, applying for a visa to visit China the following month. The officer politely pushed my passport back through the receptacle saying they don’t process Indian passports in Macau. But when I explained that the Chinese embassy in Singapore had been closed the previous week and my schedule did not allow me to apply in Singapore again, he relented with a smile and told me I could collect my visa the next day. It was heartening to meet a bureaucrat not trapped in bureaucracy.

At the Venetian that evening, I ascended the escalator to the third floor and discovered a whole new world of colourful pubs and bars; restaurants offering different cuisines; an artificial sky with clouds that almost seem to move; a canal with boatmen to take couples on lazy, romantic rides; bands playing in courtyards alongside pantomime shows; and, most importantly, shops of every description selling necklaces, neckties and everything in between. I felt I had been transported into The Truman Show film. Everything was bright, clean and thoroughly artificial… and designed to pry money not lost at the casinos below.

On my last day, I had a free morning to visit the Historic Centre of Macau, where western civilization’s mingling with China’s heritage is recorded. I walked through temples and cathedrals, old army barracks and houses, libraries and museums, and lakes and gardens and faithfully assimilated a well-crafted “East-meets-West” story.

As I boarded the ferry, I recalled how visitors to Antarctica and the Himalayas gush about natural beauty, unspoiled by man. Macau invokes the exact opposite sentiment: man-made beauty, untouched by nature.

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