Walking back into the midst of the bustling tourist island, and with the sun starting to shift to the horizon, we were all collectively feeling a bit dismayed that our trip was in its twilight.
Fun American moment! DQ does Macau. Easily the most bizarre piece of this little trek away... Needless to say, I was proud of the brand for making it this far out. Congrats.
We weren't alone, of course. All sorts of people going all sorts of direction at all moments. Little blips in time contributing to the macro picture... It's hard to focus at all. So much motion. All huddled together in one, air-breathing mass.
And even at our own micro scale, there was a clumping issue. As in. All 13 or so of us not being efficient. It's a recurring issue at this point (a couple people and I continually broke off from the group to go forward to new attractions when everyone else lagged), and by this point, it's bittersweet that we're leaving. On one hand, the dreaded inefficiencies will have escaped, which muddles in a strange ambivalence with the overwhelmingly positive reviews of all of the sights and culture here.
With just a few hours waning, we decided (in way too much time) to grab dinner and see the Venetian replica on the island of Taipa via bus. Being a less crowded place and getting to view the massive string of highways that lead over the clear harbor to Taipa was a treat, as the ebullient, just-so-adequately gaudy lights of the casinos flickered on in the distance. Sublime it was.
Alighting in Taipa, with much more air and a distinctly more folk atmosphere, we were greeted by some more authentic Portuguese shops, a street market, more cobblestone, and lines of small restaurants. The first order of business: getting my paws on some local favorites.
Dinner was actually quite good (after way too long debilitating and walking past the actual good places, obviously), but I was able to enjoy a (not pictured) panko-breaded pork chop with the most perfectly blended Portuguese herb/cheese sauce and rice. Asian fusion? Oh yes. After this, it was time to make the 20 minute hike over to the casinos in Taipa, partially for the grandeur of the lights, but mostly because everything else closes at night. A ferry ride tentatively slated for 1:30 or so, we wanted to check out this scene that attracted more gambling revenue than Vegas. Poor Chinese people.
Macau isn't quite Vegas, though. Nothing is close to the centrality that Vegas offers on its strip (so I've heard and seen on the Travel Channel), but Macau is about 10 years, a few more megacasinos, a few more shows, and an amusement park away from being the next Vegas. No joke. Right on the cusp of entertainment hub. Cranes galore, though. It's happening. Sorry, America. A pan 180 degrees, and we're there. The Venetian, in all of its false Italian glory.
I was pretty impressed, won't lie. We ventured inside, as it truly is an emulator of its Vegas counterpart, probably down to the blueprint.
Yes, the famed indoor Venetian canal-inspired shopping center. The sky right there? A perfectly molded ceiling going in a semi-dome shape to capture the mood. Too blue water (definitely too blue for Venice) splitting the massive indoor complex, and schizoid, arching bridges in every which way.
Not Venice by any stretch of the imagination, but in terms of what people dream about Venice... The good parts are all there. No pooping pigeons, no yelling Italians, no broken cobblestone. Dream Venice, it was. With the smoltzy cha-ching of dollar signs (or RMB?) in the eyes of the passersby.
So that was our night. A group of seven was headed home for the ferry, while another group was going to stay a little longer and explore some more and maybe lose a small portion of their life savings at a roulette table.
I stayed, mostly to heckle people playing "give your money to China" on the slots, as well as to see the beyond-lavish layouts of the casinos. Plus, I have no idea how to play baccarat, and all of the games that I do know were beyond high roller for my fledgling self to handle.
Funny moment: my friend Steph is at the roulette tables with her starting budget of HK$200 (less than US$30)... Bets on black, no go. Then Ainhi goes, "just put it all on 6." Steph doesn't, but puts it all on black again... And it hits six.
Steph breaks even, but is way too shaken by Lucky Ainhi to think wise of herself. Her $100 bet would have gone 36 times over... And she would have been able to buy us a hotel room for the night.
As I sipped my complimentary orange juice (gotta love being of age in China), it was all framing to be a perfect swan song to the end of my Chinese New Year fest.
...
So of course it can't do that. Matt gets a call from the group of earlygoers at the ferry docks: because work formally begins the next morning, everyone else is also trying to leave. So we don't have a ticket home until 5 the next morning.
Stranded all night on an island of vices because we weren't quite fast enough from the get-go. Remember when we had that blurb about buying return tickets at the original gate? Hmmm.
Since we now had to stay up to catch the 4 am bus to catch the 5 am ferry to catch the Hong Kong MTR at 7 am to go home and crash, we decided to get a fourth meal... Guess what was the only other open place outside of overpriced casino bars? Mmm, Mickey D's. That was my sustenance for the night.
From there, we ventured into the Hard Rock -- and a whiff of cigarette smoke, a flash of a slot machine, and a craning of my neck past a barrier, I saw it: soccer. We were staying up late enough in Macau to catch the Chelsea-Liverpool game! It was great.
(I apologize for the lack of photos here... No cameras allowed in casinos, or you get booted.) After that 2 hours of pure bliss (Liverpool with the rare victory -- though I type this right after they smacked ManU), we were left with another familiar problem... A couple of hours before our shuttle, and nothing to do.
Some wanted to go to other casinos; some wanted to stay put in the Hard Rock; some wanted to walk around the further parts from town and risk even more... So as this constant, 13-fold discussion quakes... Brooke and I decide that we'd rather go people watch at the Venetian. Everyone else later follows, breaking into pairs or trios until we all meet at the bus stop at 4.
Awesome! It only took 12 hours to figure out the best way to travel around town!
These are snippets of my all-too-cynical views as Brooke and I decide to play the people watching game as Chinese people lose their money. And it was strangely easy, considering all of them had even retired for the night.
In the casino lobby. Some in Starbucks. Getting some serious REM. Some being woken up by security to proceed to their rooms or a chair. Some being ushered away for falling asleep at a table. It was hysterical, and just what I needed to make it the last couple of hours.
At 4, surprisingly, nobody was late. Nobody was struggling. Everyone made it to the ferry, through customs... Despite the fact that we were beyond rattled after that night. We weren't exactly a pretty bunch, that's for sure.
I don't have any recollection of the ferry (I remember trying to sleep but not really succeeding), exiting, getting my passport stamped; none of it. I do remember, however, sitting on the MTR in a daze and watching the sun rise.
For some reason, it was breathtaking.
End of one story, and on to the next without a breath to spare.
And that, my friends, is how I missed the first quarter of the Super Bowl.
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