Macau: East Meets West in 6.5 Square Miles

Where Am I?

On my first night in town I went out to the hotel terrace and shared a half carafe of white wine with St. James. My pousada ("inn") had been built atop the walls of a seventeenth-century fortress and to one side of the terrace a Catholic shrine held a larger-than-life statue of sword-wielding St. James, patron saint of Portuguese soldiers. Old "Sao Tiago" kept an eye on me from his perch in the chapel as I sipped my wine and had my dinner: bacalhau and arroz marisco. From the candlelit tables around me I heard the murmur of Portuguese conversations. As the sky faded into the deep, luxuriant blue of dusk, I gazed out over the rampart walls and across a muddy brown river to the hills of China.

That's right. China. The Middle Kingdom. For I was not in Portugal. I was not even in Europe. I was, in fact, on the other side of the world. I was in Macau, a tiny Portuguese territory that dangles from the south China coast like some vestigial colonial appendix. I was in a cross-cultural gray zone where East meets West and vice-versa, but neither predominates. And I suppose that meant I'd reached a place like nowhere else on earth.

You're Goin Where?

In the States, nobody had heard of Macau. "That's in India, right?" one friend said to me, perhaps thinking of Madras. "I didn't know you were going to Europe on your trip," said another, who had apparently mixed up Macau with another microstate with a similar-sounding name: Monaco. A few people I spoke with thought Macau to be a city in China, which was closer to the mark, but mostly I received blank stares when I mentioned my destination and I suppose that's not surprising. In terms of name recognition Macau ranks up there with Andorra and Palau. After all, it is an obscure historical anachronism on the other side of the globe. Pinned to the coast of southern China, it is a mere 6.5 square miles in size and is overshadowed by its far more glamorous neighbor, Hong Kong.

Jetting to Macau

I had three options for traveling to Macau. I could fly into the sparkling new airport on Taipa Island, an option chosen by an increasing number of visitors. Or I could cross on foot from China at the Portas de Cerco border gate, which has been in operation since the colony's inception. I chose the final and, for western travelers, most popular option: a hydrofoil from Hong Kong's Shun Tak Center.

As I settled into my seat the stewardess gave a predeparture safety speech advising passengers to fasten their seatbelts. I felt daring and left mine unfastened as the appropriately named jetfoil skimmed over the water with an exceptionally smooth ride. Mountainous Lantau and dumbbell shaped Cheung Chau flowed past, along with an endless parade of tug and barge combos, dredges, fishing boats, ferries, container ships and warships of the US Navy. Fifty minutes later I disembarked in Macau.

The Macau Ferry Terminal reminded me of an airport. The glass and chrome complex had the bustle of one, with customs and immigration counters, baggage claim areas, duty-free shops and currency exchange booths. A cosmopolitan collection of passengers traversed airport-style gangways as they boarded and disembarked ferries bound for Kowloon, Victoria and Guangzhou. Big spenders in a hurry headed up to the rooftop helipad, where an East Asia Airlines chopper whisked them to Hong Kong in twenty minutes.

I quickly realized that this blending of air and sea travel was only the first of Macau's many fusions, for it is a unique hybrid that can only be described as, well, Macanese. The blending of Portuguese and Chinese heritages was apparent the moment I stepped off the jetfoil and went through customs and immigration. A Cantonese policeman stamped a Portuguese-language entry visa into my passport. "Corpo de Policia de Seguranca Publica," read the stamp. The mix of old and new that makes Macau so different from Hong Kong, where everything is not merely new but brand new, became obvious as well when I took a taxi from the sleekly modern ferry terminal to my hotel, the 380-year-old Pousada de Sao Tiago. There I met St. James and slept that night ensconced in four centuries of colonial history.

A Portuguese Past

Tiny Macau, I discovered, had more history per square mile than any other city in Asia. The Portuguese first settled in Macau in 1557. They did this with the permission of the Chinese emperor and took advantage of their good relations with him by setting up a virtual monopoly on trade among China, Japan and Europe. Macau became the key commercial link between Europe and Asia and grew prosperous as a result. Its golden age ended in the mid-seventeenth century, however, when the Portuguese lost their trading ports at Nagasaki and Malacca. In 1841 the British acquired--some would say extorted--nearby Hong Kong from China, a far-larger territory with a fine deep-water port. The British colony rapidly eclipsed Macau as the main trading link with China, a situation that remains to the present day.

I could sense that the Macanese take great pride in their historic city, and have made a concerted effort to preserve it. Unlike nearby Hong Kong, which has torn down its historic landmarks and replaced them with highrises, Macau has carefully maintained and restored its cobblestoned old quarter. The Macanese are fortunate that, unlike so many other Asian metropolises, their city never suffered the destruction of war or natural disaster. Traditionally neutral, Macau avoided the devastation wrought on so many Asian cities during World War II. And by good fortune Macau has never suffered much serious damage from fire, typhoon or earthquake. Consequently a wealth of historic cathedrals, temples, mansions, government buildings and shophouses make up Macau's attractive half-European, half-Cantonese old town center.

Given Macau's relatively blessed existence, I find it ironic that the enclave's most well known building is a cathedral gutted by fire during a typhoon. In 1835 the hilltop St. Paul's Cathedral went up in flames, the conflagration fanned by howling storm winds. Today only the elaborate facade of the cathedral remains at the top of a wide flight of stone steps. I found the effect slightly eerie, for as I walked up the stairs I could see open sky through the empty door and window frames. These openings almost looked like portals to heaven. The ruins of St. Paul's remain Macau's most famous landmark. Featured in every tourist brochure and even on the five-pataca coin, the cathedral serves as a symbol of the long Portuguese presence in Macau.

A Mixed Present

The world's most fascinating cities are always diverse and multicultural. Macau is all about fusion, a sophisticated mix of culture and finance, Europe and China, old and new.

As they have for centuries, the Portuguese continue to administer Macau. The president of Portugal appoints the governor--currently General Vasco Rocha Vieira--and ties to Lisbon remain strong. Many upper-echelon civil servants and business people are ethnic Portuguese. I found their influence in everything from the street names to the architecture. Although the flag of Portugal flies over Macau, a mere three percent of the population is actually ethnic Portuguese.

It remained evident whenever I walked the streets of Macau that the Chinese make up the vast majority of the population. The Chinese, in fact, comprise 95% of Macau's 500,000 inhabitants. Most of them are Cantonese, and they have had as much, if not more influence on Macau as the Portuguese. Far more people are Buddhist than Catholic; Cantonese remains the most common language by far (Portuguese ranks third after English). The success of Macau's casinos can surely be traced to the Cantonese love of gambling; the success of its businesses can be ascribed to the same Cantonese business acumen that built Hong Kong.

Neither culture can claim dominance, however, because both have melted together over the centuries. Many ethnic Cantonese, for example, are Portuguese citizens, and thus enjoy full European Union privileges. A 30,000-strong community of Eurasians, who consider themselves the true bearers of the title "Macanese," speak their own unique dialect, Patua, which blends Cantonese and Portuguese. Even the name of the place is a Portuguese corruption of the original Cantonese name, A-Ma Gao (Bay of A-Ma). Toss in the influence of other ethnic and national groups from Goans to Californians and Macau truly becomes a unique international amalgamation.

Join the Parade

I soon understood that not just history is jammed into Macau. Everything and everybody is jammed together, in fact, because the territory is less than seven square miles in size. Macau actually consists of the two small and relatively green islands of Taipa and Coloane, plus the highly urbanized Macau Peninsula. Two graceful white bridges more than a mile long link the islands to the peninsula, which in turn connects to China's Guangdong Province. Land is at such a premium in the tiny territory that the new international airport stands entirely on reclaimed land, leaving the runway anchored offshore like some colossal concrete aircraft carrier.

Visiting a microstate has its advantages. I could walk everywhere I needed to go. Unlike so many other Asian cities, Macau is a pedestrian-friendly place. I found distances short, sidewalks common and parks ubiquitous. The old quarter's narrow streets are pedestrian-only zones and as I strolled along I did not feel the need to look over my shoulder. Macau boasts a low crime rate and despite some highly publicized gangland slayings in the city center, violent crime is rare. I always felt secure while exploring Macau, a far safer and saner place than other cities on my itinerary, where travelers are much more likely to be robbed, run over or both.

I can attest that with a half-million inhabitants, there's no room to sprawl out in Macau. The crowd-phobic should stay away, for this urban warren combines the narrow streets of old Europe with the equally narrow lanes of old China. Like all tropical cities, life is highly public in Macau. Shops and restaurants are thrown open to the street; parks and squares function as public living rooms. I had endless opportunities to people-watch. I saw old men practicing graceful Tai Chi moves and young athletes jogging up Guia Hill in $200 running shoes. I saw men carrying birds in cages shrouded against the evil eye and old women gossiping in the park beneath banyan trees alive with the rattle-buzz of cicadas. I saw fan dancers in Lou Lim Iok Gardens, Portuguese officials in three-piece suits, young Cantonese entrepreneurs with mobile phones and a sales pitch, high-rolling Hongkongese on gambling junkets, Catholic nuns and Buddhist monks. The human parade never ended, and as a foreign tourist I became both an observer and a participant in this fascinating pageant.

Then Have Bacalhau or a Big Mac

I always worked up an appetite while walking in Macau because the sidewalks smelled of food. As I strolled from street to street my nose would detect fresh-baked bread, dried fish, grilled beef and pork, noodle soup, hot coffee, the ever-stinky durian, and Quarter Pounders with cheese. These aromas, like Macanese cuisine itself, reflect its history. Macanese cooking blends recipes and ingredients from not just Portugal and China, but also Portuguese colonies where ships stopped on their way to Macau. Traditional dishes from Portugal include bacalhau (codfish), ox tail and ox breast, rabbit and soups like valdo verde (potato and sausage soup). The Portuguese influence also shows up in the wide selection of table wine and port available in even the tiniest corner stores. Sailors coming via Angola, Mozambique and Goa brought the recipes and chiles for spicy chicken and prawn dishes. From Brazil came feijoadas, a hearty stew of beans, pork, potatoes, cabbage and sausage. The Cantonese added pigeons, quail, duck and dim sum, plus more basic fare like bean curd, noodle soup and fried rice. My fellow Americans have made the latest addition to this international blend. McDonald's has arrived in force--you can't beat their Extra Value Breakfast--and two enterprising Americans have opened Macau's first microbrewery: Macau Brewing Company, Ltd.

Not surprisingly, Macau boasts a variety of restaurants. I had one of the best meals of my traveling career at the Litoral, a traditional Macanese restaurant on Rua do Almirante Sergio. I ate fried codfish balls, seafood rice and Portuguese sausage, all washed down with a cold Macau Brewing Company blond ale.

A Chinese Future

Macau's future lies with China, not Portugal. Just as Hong Kong returned to Chinese control in June of this year, Macau will return to China on December 21, 1999. (Lisbon actually tried to give Macau back in the seventies but China refused.) Four hundred forty years of Portuguese rule will come to an end; Asia's last vestige of European colonialism will fade into history.

Macau faces the future with confidence and I thought this to be clearly symbolized by its flashy new international airport and massive land-reclamation projects. Macau's location on the Pearl River delta places it in the center of China's economic boom along with Guangzhou and Hong Kong. Many Macanese I spoke with took a wait-and-see attitude about the political future. Financially, however, the mood remained upbeat, and few doubted that Macau would grow richer in the years ahead.

Kowloon Contrast

I departed Macau the same way I arrived: by Far East jetfoil. I rode first class, a luxury that earned me my own complimentary lemon tea and cookies, a plush seat and a good view. A sign warned "Smoking and gambling are prohibited on board." Fifty minutes later I disembarked in Hong Kong, a highrise power center that smelled of money and moved at a frantic pitch. I headed down into the metro, surrounded by briefcases, mobile phones and three-piece suits. People strode with purposeful intensity; they had appointments to keep and deals to close. I suddenly understood why the Hongkongese escape to the laid-back charm of Macau every weekend. Amidst the diesel and dollar-scented air, beneath the dagger-shaped skyscrapers emblazoned with the leading names of the global economy, surrounded by the caffeine-wired and profit-obsessed denizens of capitalism, I almost turned around and got back on the ferry. But I too had places to go and people to see. As I wormed beneath the city in a metro train I thought of St. James, sunset over the Pearl River and Portuguese wine. I smiled to myself and made a little plea to the gods of travel. It went like this: "Let me return."

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Editor's Note: There are many easy flight options from Hong Kong to Vietnam.