The closest place to China and their culture I’ve ever come across is probably Yaowarat in Bangkok. Especially during Chinese New Year when Bangkok was turned into a mini mainland China. Hong Kong really doesn’t count, considering the amount of farangs and culture inhabiting the place.
But this trip to Macau had been a very eye-opening experience for me. All the bad stereotypes I know about Chinese people–the rudeness, the loudness, the lack of manners and appropriateness–sadly were all present with more add-ons I never thought would be possible.
I am not saying ALL Chinese and Macanese people are rude. The Hard Rock Hotel clerks were the ones helping us find the right bus to get into town, despite their serious lack of English knowledge. Casino security guards were even much more friendlier than the ones found in Bangkok MRT, even when they caught me taking photos in the no-photo zones. Not to mention the drivers on the road, who would stop for you to cross the minute you set your toes on the zebra crossing. In Bangkok, the cars rule the roads, not the pedestrians.
But then there’s the whole treating-you-like-cattle thing. It was somewhat understandable. On this trip there were over 200 press members from all over Asia, it would be hard to contain the chaos when Asians are best known for being inattentive selfish bunch who would choose to stand at the foot of a running escalator, or shove others aside for the best view of the show. But what surprised me the most were the people who were doing the cattle tending. These were not security, but a group of stylishly dressed PRs.
Thai PRs are complete angelic compared to what we had in Macau. When they want you to move to certain direction, don’t hope for fully-formed sentences with aided hand gestures like: “Could you kindly please move to the next room? Thank you. *smiles*”
No. Instead of that, we had a push, an aggressive wave as if they were directing traffic, and best of all, the hospitality award winning line: “Go. Move. Shoo. Shoo.”
Yup. Shoo.
My photographer was shooed out of her beautifully set-up frame. Twice.
Everyone and everything was so loud. Even the muzak in the elevators and in the halls were blasting through walls and lift metallic doors. Every time the staff spoke to us, even when in English, they sounded like they were full of anger. I was scolded because they couldn’t read my name on the check-in list.
While everything is loud and bright, it is also big and bold. The Venetian is a town in itself, complete with fake canals and skies, with opera singing farangs rowing you around in their fake gondolas. The opening ceremony of City of Dreams was even bolder, with fireworks coming out of all angles of hotel balconies, and again, farang dancers in neon leotards skating and dancing in water to the loudest and tackiest house mix I have ever heard. The city of Macau was even worse. Casinos in every corner, with blinding neons plastered on all buildings. And that was almost midnight when we were in town.
I am quite surprised at the number of farangs employed there. From PRs and odd-jobbers like the gondola rowers and dancers, to security guards and food court servers. And they all speak Chinese.
Even out of the fake city it was still thrilling. The bus ride into town would put Bangkok’s green buses to shame. The curves mean nothing to their brakes and trust me Macau roads are very curvy. I was car sick the minute I got on. I feel bad for all those frail ah-mas holding on for their dear lives. Our schedule was packed, this was the only chance we had of getting out of the fake town called Cotai and all we got was this ride of death. If it weren’t for this kind Thai auntie we luckily met on the bus who saved us from the savage of Macau, we probably would never have made it into town in one piece.
I am sure Macau is a great place for some people, especially if they have deep pockets. The food and drinks there have roughly the same price tags as Bangkok: A bowl of noodles for 50 and water for 15. Only in a different currency. It made me appreciate Bangkok’s cost of living even more.
I’d like to visit Macau again really, but this time without having to be confined in a fake setting. I have yet to see all those Sino-Portuguese architecture it is so famous for.
But next time I’m there, it’s going to be just a stop on a Hong Kong trip. Staying in Macau, or Cotai, again would make me go crazy.
