macau, part 2

as night began to fall in macau we found ourselves in a very untouristy part of town; we were garnering all kinds of stares, the curious not malicious type. as we made our way through this market people were attempting to entertain our curiosities by explaining as best they could.

there were all sorts of bizarre foods for sale. raw goods like fish and veggies…

roasted and boiled freshly carved chunks of meat…

tons of sausages hung everywhere…

upon closer inspection of the wieners, i noticed this appetizing site…

how the hell do you prepare dehydrated whole bird in a tasty manner? maybe it’s for making broth?
we came upon a busy triangular intersection near a school and a park which was begging us to stop and people watch. we grabbed some stools in an open-air food stall and ordered a beer, well, more like pointed into the refrigerator and grunted.

it was here we came upon a situation that highlighted the amusement of the language barrier. carrie really had to pee. we scanned the area for hints as to the whereabouts of facilities, but no luck. we tried to use the word for bathroom that was in our guidebook, but the book’s focus is hong kong, where most people speak the cantonese dialect of the chinese language. on macau, most people speak mandarin chinese. we tried english, spanish, japanese…you never know…it was futile. i stood and began tracing a basin in the floor with my fingers and pretended to squat. by now other customers and employees are involved in this game of charades. i crossed my legs, clasping my hands in front of my crotch and began squirming with a distressed look on my face. some folks sighed with recognition and began to clap. i guess the pee-pee dance is international. we ran into the same problem trying to thank them for their commitment to deciphering our gestures by using the wrong dialect. they taught us the correct way. from then on, when showing appreciation, we ended up saying ‘shie shie, douje, thank you’ just to make sure we were covered.
as we wandered in and out of shops we began to hear an unmistakable sound, that of bowling pins crashing. we wondered aloud, is it the same here? we followed the auditory trail and began trying on various sizes of shoes. we mimed drinks, turned out no beer. we thought she said it was ok to bring them in so i ran across the street and stuffed a few in my purse.

i think something’s really captivating about this pic, maybe the color and leading lines…good job c.b.

a cool macanese couple was stationed beside us; only he was bowling which left her plenty of time to chat with us using her impeccable english. they were both good communicators and gave us hints on where to head for drinking and eating.
we wanted to take the opportunity to sample the fusion portuguese/chinese cooking that we’d read so much about. we attempted to follow a map to a highly recommended spot…

we ended up confounded, then we confused 3 police officers and roped them into flagging a cab for us. we arrived on the water front and circled the area surveying our choices before settling on a cozy looking spot named carlos.
we were seated at the last empty table along the window; over half the restaurant was consumed by a large table of boisterous portuguese and macanese customers. when our extra large carafe of red table wine arrived, several of them, smiling, lifted their glasses towards us in a toast. although this was one of our more expensive meals, it was still reasonably priced enough that we figured we’d over order, stuff ourselves and bitch about it later. we decided on crabs, hollowed and re-stuffed with a piquant blend of spices, citrus, breadcrumbs and meat. they were tasty but a bit dry. next we decided on a fillet of beef smothered in garlic infused brown gravy since steak is hard to come by on the homefront. my favorite was the clams, pork, potatoes and black olives sautéed perfectly in parsley, garlic and butter.

the oldest patron at the large table must have been in his 80s; a sturdily built man weakened slightly by age but kept lively by his mediterranean spirit and healthy doses of wine. he stood and began a rousing, hand-clapping sing-a-long that carrie and i joined in even though we didn’t understand a word. the older men started to trickle to our table one by one to introduce themselves and chat, eventually pulling up chairs and when we overwhelmed our seating area they brought us to theirs. they were really interested in our american upbringing, our lives in japan, our travels. and they all had really interesting stories. many were first or second generation macanese whose parents had immigrated from portugal. their higher echelon jobs ran the gamut from important posts in the government to educators to leaders of the tourism industry to jobs at high profile p.r. firms. one gentleman was introduced to us by the others with the line ‘see that picture on the wall?’ it was a huge black and white photograph taken at a soccer game of pele battling for the ball in front of the goal with a packed crowd looking on. ‘he’s the one who kept pele from scoring’ they said. he was a member of the portuguese national soccer team during its heyday. he was a handsome man for his age and was obviously used to charming the ladies…he flirted convincingly with us. he’s pictured to my left in the black hat. nice to see that other nationalities also engage in drunken picture taking…

mario and nunu

the restaurant’s owner, also of portuguese heritage, joined us and the wine flowed. they asked if we’d been to a casino. when we told them that was our next stop, they insisted on escorting us. the men employed by the macanese government are barred from entering any gambling establishments so we said goodbyes and piled into the back of a boss hog, bright white cadillac.

this is about the time we began to suspect they were into organized crime; they had some serious influence. we pulled right up to the front door of the glimmering sands casino as valets swarmed to help us exit. they implored our friend to please wait a moment as they removed the car from the closest parking space and replaced it with his caddy as we looked on. we were led to the bar to place our orders. we wanted red wine, he called for several bottles from the cellar. he made snack requests as we were lead to a prime table in front of the stage where an army of brightly dressed dancers were entertaining. we drank and talked and snacked and drank and drank until the men were about to expire. before leaving they both offered us places to stay that evening [fly right now…in their family homes w/ their spouses] which we graciously declined as we had gambling to do.
they were hesitant to leave us un-entertained so they roped two men from a nearby table who could speak a bit of english into coming to sit with us and then furnished us with another bottle of wine before departing. carrie and i chatted up the new boys until the bottle ran dry at which point we went in search of a blackjack table. being my first time, i watched from afar for a bit as carrie bought in at a nearly full table. they were pulling all kinds of fancy betting tricks we knew nothing about which was interesting to watch but dizzying. it wasn’t long before things went awry and, as you may have guessed, we were right in the middle of it. the cocky man to our left had been betting on carrie’s cards and his own while barking recommendations on how to handle the hand. as carrie contemplated her cards, he called for a hit and the dealer turned another card. we both immediately complained; how could he make a call on someone else’s hand!? the dealer said it was because carrie was standing, not sitting. we argued that he shouldn’t have let her ante or dealt her in if that was a rule. the manager came over, at first defending his dealer, then admitting he understood the problem. he moved us to another table but refused to refund carrie’s ante. we were steaming. i bought a $1000 hong kong worth of chips at a neighboring table [with a much hotter dealer] and anted up. i’d slide in one chip as the other players moved stacks of the colorful disks across the green felt. it was laughable; like cap guns versus machine guns. at one point i’d slightly more than doubled my money, but you know how these casino stories usually end. i sat there long enough to dwindle my stack down to nearly nothing. the teller was amused as i cashed in my last two chips for a few measly dollars. we were a little poorer and a lot more loopy as we made our way back to the ferry port.

we joined the crowd of folks catching some shut eye on the floor in the ferry station until time to board the boat back to hong kong at 6:30 am.