Chungking Express

I've been to the Chunking Express and it's actually a mall, they sell the same HK crap as everywhere else. But the Chunking Mansion next to has a massive galleria that caters to mostly South Asian expats.

Tried a somosa, but not as good as the one in scarborough.

Continental Again - CO 029

Fuck.

I was on Continental again. But this plane was much better. Had movies on demand. So I stayed up for most of the flight and watched a bunch of movies I probably should see but normally won't for the lack of time and patience.

Venetian Macao - World 2nd Largest building

I was a little surprised when I read about it on Wikipedia. The Venetian in Macao is the world's second largest building by square-footage. It's the largest building in Asia.



It's bigger than the Pentagon and the Hong Kong International Airport. The Venetian is twice the size of the Sear Tower in Chicago.

Kinda scarey.

My Fortune Cookie sez

"Two small jumps are sometimes better than one big leap."

I wonder what lesson I should draw from this? And of what this means for some of the future plans I am making?

Sea Lions

I don't sea lions either. Still at Ocean Park.

Dolphines

I fucking hate dolphines. Still at Ocean Park. Fuck.

Pandas

What is with people's facination with pandas?

At Ocean Park right now. People are going nuts over LeLe and YingYing.

Pandas are just really big squirelles. Tree-rats with super sharp claws.

Tsim Sha Tsui

My Uncle and I are stayying at the Mirador. Not a hostel, really. More of a collection of hostels crammed in one building. He promised to send me the pictures so I can post them shortly.

I am in Tsim Sha Tsu, just a block from Chungking Mansions. Chungking is rather notorious with the locals since it is mostly occupid by foreigners. Non-white foreigners. Some of my relatives were apprehensive of the Africans and South Asians. But it seems like the dal here is alright.

Last Night in Macau

Every generation or so, my family decides to move.

My great grandfather moved to Mexico. My grandfather moved to Hong Kong. My dad went to Canada.

If I come back to Macau, it would kinda finish off the east/west cycle of my family's migratory pattern.

Economic opportunities aside, I rather like living in Toronto. Maybe it is a genetic wanderlust.

I am a little charmed by the ease of life. It's really relaxed living here. Despite what I was told. The place is so small. So unlike Hong Kong. It's almost like Newfoundland -- except with Chinese people and casinos.

Ferry Ride

On the First Ferry from Macau to Kowloon. Nothing like the TurboJet I rode on the way over. This is a more traditional ferry with the keel touching the water. So we feel every single bit of the rocks and motions of the sea.

The little Australian school girl is clutching her head like it's about to explode. I guess some people gets their sea legs faster than others.

I am suprisingly good. I usually get motion sickness and vertigo. But somehow, getting the window seat really helped. I can see the wave and the wake of the other ships coming. My body makes the adjustment. Instead of seasickness, I am getting a free rollercoaster ride.

Big Checkmark Over Macau

I haven't seen all the famous landmarks of Macau, but I saw all the fameous (and not so fameous and also some infameous) things I had listed out.

All that is left now for me is to wait until Sat when I ride the ferry back to Hong Kong.

I like Macau a lot. Beautiful scenery. Beautiful women. (Comeliness is something of a job qualification here.) Lots of job opportunities. Rent is cheap. Investiment good. Government is a bit shady, as they recently indicted the Public Works Minister for fraud. People here seem fairly content. The rising income gap between casino and non-casino workers is raising some tension. Also, the rapid changes to the landscape and the influx of foreign workers are raising dissatisfaction amongst long time residents.

Officially, I am a permanent resident of this little pennsula with all the attending rights and privleges -- including preferential hiring for positions.

I'll have to see.

Grave Numbers

Grandparents: 5806
Senventh Uncle: 5824
Great Grandmother: 6571

All are buried at the New Western Cemetery, near Mong Ha Fortress.

In case, I forget.

Chinese New Year

The inadequacies of the English language!

I spent Chinese New Year in one continuous party of family and friends. Traditionally, New Year lasts 18-20 days. At minimum, people celebrate for three days.

Oliver Stone was right. It really is like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Year's Eve all rolled into one. Observing the New Years is a mixture of superstition, ritual, pmp, civic religion, communistic responsibility, class identification, commercialism, and spirituality. I am glad I came back at this time to witness the fullness of it in a Chinese place.

I had lunch at my Second Uncle's house. He had to work later on that night. The family dinner had to be moved to a family lunch.

I arrived a little early and waited as my aunt prepared the various dishes that are required: sugar dumplings, broiled chicken, steamed fish, roast ribs, lotus roots.

Each dish had a reason to be there on the table. The lotus root is a homonym for longevity. Sugar dumplings for the fulfillment of wishes. A meat dish to represent the three realm of existence: air, water, sky; pig, fish, fowl.

Ritual of worship had to be performd befoe we could eat: they took almost an hour. We burnt incense and made offerings of rice wine to our ancestors (my grand parents,) the sky god, the earth lord, the local god of the particular appartment level (level 3.) There is also a neighbourhood shrine at the end of the road. My uncle burnt "hell bank notes" and gold ingots made from river reed paper. All the dishes we ate were first offered to the spirits and gods. We took turns in worship from the eldest to youngest, from male to female.

Afterwards, all the married people gave red envelopes to the unmarried. Usually, this means that the elders had to give. But since my younger cousin got married this year, there was a reversal of circumstance where she and her husband had to give me money. I guess I kinda fucked up the normal course of the social condition right here in Macau.

Little ceremonies are observed during the meal whose origins and meanings are not fully understood or lost. I had to eat a second bowl of rice -- possibly to signify personal growth and progress. For dessert, we had to have sugar dumplings served in odd numbers.

There are others. Candles are burnt in twos, but incense in threes. Debts must be completely repaid. New pants (but not shirts) are worn. There is even a tradition (thankfully no longer observed) to not wash one's hair for the duration of the whole New Year's celebration (20 days.) The seventh of the first month is considered to be Person Day: it's every person's birthday on that day. (My father used to add an extra year to his actual age. He would say, "Well, my birthday is in July, but I have to add the seventh of the first month as well.")

There are other small ceremonies and observances that I am sure I missed. I had to ask my relatives about many of them. But even they do not fully understand the meanings and ramifications of all of the things they do; they just do what they had always done from year to year and from generation to generaiton.

Later that night, I had dinner with my father's friend's family. They are middle-class -- versus my uncle who is of the working class. They had slightly different traditions than my uncle. Worship of ancestors was roughly the same. But they had different dishes for dinner to signify for things I am unaware of.

They put little red envelopes of money on top of mandarin oranges. It's an homonym: "over mandarin oranges," "picking (as in picking fruits) good fortune. They also had a giant cherry blossom plant hung with litle ornamental red lanterns and decorative red bows -- almost like a Christmas tree.

After dinner, I was drafted by my father's friend to setup the New Year display window at his store. We hung red posters with gold letterings and a likeness of the god of wealth.

I had dinner on the next day with my second-cousins. Four generations of their family gathered for dinner. There were easily forty people. This is already the more casual dinner. In previous years, I was told, they had a few hundred people for the family get-togethers.

They are an old family in Macau and had the most traditions. I was not present for most of them and I was told that they don't observed many of them now. The only thing I was told to do was to fill the tea cup of anybody who gave me a red envelope. And I was busy. I had never received so many red envelopes in my life. My pocket bulged an extra two inches. There was lots of drinking and eating.

Macau is a very happy place to spend Chinese New Year. Firecrackers are legal! In fact, highly encouraged. Every store owner burn at least two packs to welcolme the new year. My father's friend burned a massive pack, the size of a machine gun cartridge in front of the store. Passer-bys were warnd, "Siu pow jaern!)

I went to the night market with my little cousin. The night marekt is traditionally a place for merriment during the New Year. Balloons, flowers, and pinwheels were sold everywhere. They had even shut off the massive fountain in front of the former Portugese colonial legislative building and placed over it a giant ornamental display of a golden rat.

As we headed back home, all along the Macau street, all thru the night, the rat-ta-tet-tet of firecrackers burst randomly like exhuberant celebratory twenty-one gun salutes. People are bustling and pushing and hawking and eating and laughing and drinking and making their way in no hurry to the new year.

Permanent Resident Card

I finally got my permanent resident card today. I am a real person now under the laws of Macau!

To celebrate, I opened a savings account!

Peanut Oil

In Macau, even the simplest dish taste different.

Two days ago, I went to dinner with my uncle. Stir-fry, Shanghai-style, knife-cut noodles. Eggs with prawn. Two fairly common dish I had regularly in Toronto. Back home, the flavour is flat. In Macau, the loops of noodles shone in the florescent light and slips from clawing of my chopsticks. The prawns were a little mushy and the eggs a bit watery and smooth.

The taste, though. Each bite was a flare of flavour. I couldn't really describe what it was. Was it the spice, the cooking by propane fire, or the addition of a simple something?

My aunt asked, "Does your mother use olive oil or peanut oil to cook at home?" It was one of those make conversation questions that one family member asks another.

"I sometimes use olive oil when I cook --- I find it healthier. It also has a better flavour. My mother likes vegitable oil. It's cheaper. We don't have peanut oil in Canada."

"What is vegitable oil?" She asked.

"It's made from soy beans. There isn't vegitable oil in Macau."

My aunt shook her head slowly.

So, the secret ingredient is peanut oil.

Pawnshop musem

Time is fate's way of playing pranks on one's life.

I paid five pataca's for admission to go inside the Pawnshop Museum on Rua dos Mercadores (New Road.)

There are many pawn shops in Macau, but this one dates back to 1900's. The shop still kept most of the layout and practises from that era.

When I was young, across the street from my father's tailor shop was a pawn shop. I used to play with the pawnbroker's son as he and I were the same age. We played skip rope inside his father's store amongst the Rolexes and jade bangles. Twenty years later, I have to pay 5 Patacas for admission to enter my former playground. O, how time and fate confounds us all!

Too much free stuff

I just counted. I spent roughly $350 Canadian in the last 17 days of vacationing.

Everytime I go out to eat, nobody would let me pick up the tab.
"Treat me back when I go to Canada," they all said.

Since it's New Years, there were lots of end-of-year get together dinners. Also, not having to pay for accomidations helped significantly.

However, I haven't made any major purchases yet. Except for a pair of Reeboks on sale for 210 Patacas ($30 Canadian.)

I have to get my major purchases done this week.

Projectors

Mix-media artists gotta find new materials to use. I went to the Warehouse Armazem de Boi, a modern art gallery in Macau built on a former cattle inspection facility.

What did I see? More projectors showing random stuff on fabric.

In either case, I tried talking to the curators about the local art scene in Macau. They seemd somewhat optimistic, but I can't seem to find any vibrancy to the community. There is two or three galleries that show contemporary art. They don't seem to hold readings or special exhibts or even arts festivals.

I asked them about arts funding in the SAR and they could only answer in generalities.

I'll try asking other people about this topic.

Apparently, I am a pervert

I was walking around with my cousin the other day in the main shopping district. School just let out for Chinese New Year and the pavements were flooded with high school and university kids. My cousin turns to me and says, "You are a very unhappy individual."

What the fuck, I thought.

"Why the hell did you say that," I said.
"You keep looking around at all the girls."
"What?"
"You checked out every single girl that passed by."
"Oh," I said, "I am ususally pretty happy when I see pretty women."
"It's kind of disgusting and embarassing." My cousin is 19. He gets embarassed by everything.
"Whatever. I think it'd be insulting if I saw a pretty woman and I didn't check her out. How else would she know that I thought she was pretty? Besides, it is the will of nature."
My cousin kept on walking and didn't say anything.

We walked into the mall and round the escalator up to the second floor. The whole complex was overrunned by women in leggings and short shorts. Black locks of hair highlighted with burgundy. Berrets. Flashes of sliver necklaces under fluffy scarves. Faces applied with foundation and peach color blush and lips stained with pink lipstick.

My cousin look straight ahead through all the displays of carnality. Unprompted, he said to me, "My dream of an early marriage is ruined."
"What?"
"I wanted to get married at 18. But I am already 19."
"With that girlfriend of yours?"
"Yeah."
I teased him a little, "When do I get to meet this lucky little vixen?"
"Um, maybe you shouldn't."
"C'mon! It'd be fun."

We turned into store that sells anime-goth gear. I had difficulty telling apart women's age since I got back. I'd seen what look to me like a twenty year old women walk around with their nineteen year old daughter. Pre-teens (I think they are pre-teens) in black huddled around a pair of Doc Martens.

"So," I asked my cousin, "Is it normal for people to want to get married early?"
"No, usually they don't have the money."
"So it's an issue with money. If you had money, you would've gotten married last year?"
"Sort of. Not exactly."

I was getting hungry. For a lark, I asked him to take me to a McDonald's. The McD's in the SAR's have a Pork Burger. I had not had it in years.

There were even more girls of non-descript age here. Pretty, pretty women somehow all looking seventeen. My cousin watched me eat as he nibbled on some french fries. I was pretty, pretty distracted by all the pretty, pretty people.

"I gotta go see my girlfriend soon," my cousin said, almost nervously.
"OK, let's go together!"
"Um, let's not."
I desisted on this line of conversation and instead went to the bathroom.

By the time I got out, my cousin was waiting for me at the front door, holding my bag.

He leaned into me and whispered, "A really hot girl with a large handbag just went by."
I pretended not to hear him properly and yelled out, "What? Did you say the bag was hot or the girl was hot?"
"Fuck," mortified, my cousin said, "You are such a dick."

He got on the bus to see his girlfriend and I went off to do my own tourist-y crap.

***Note***
In everyday talk in HK/Macau, unmarried women are refered to as "little women" which I translate as "girls."

Go West, Young Man!

I spent most of the afternoon with my cousin. (Different cousin this time, from my father's side.) It's kinda cool because he is really young, just start college.

We talk most of the day about what kind of running shoes he likes. It more or less reinforced my perspective of the parochialism that is here in Macau. He thinks Hong Kong (a forty minute ferry ride costing 138 pataca -- half a day's wage) is faraway. He wants to go there so he can buy shoes to impressed his friends.

I was thinking about how I'd been endlessly bitter about many growing up in Canada. But I am, now, so glad that I did.

Other people I had talk to gave me the same feeling. There is a lack of openess, independent thought, and freedom for personal development here.

Permanent resident card

I applied for my permanent resident card a few days ago. It allows me to live and work in Macau.

I wasn't intending to stay; mostly, I came to Macau to see some relatives and also to see the place I was born. Re-examine my roots.

It's strange. The whole place is booming ... sort of. Especially at night, the lights of the casino and pawn shops lit permanently the streets along the waters. Massive labor shortages for all industries of pleasure.

It would be a little bit more difficult for me to find work here as I cannot read Chinese with any reliability. I suppose I can find work here at the Wynn or Venetian. Or maybe one of the airlines. It's hard to say. I don't really want to stay in the first place.

Right now, I am typing this inside Noite e Dia Cafe, on the bottom of the Hotel Lisboa and it's many casino rooms. Below me are the shopping arcades where Mainlander prostitutes circle endlessly, asking single men to go upstairs.

Working here would be working HERE. I just don't know. Canada is a very good place to live. Even if the taxes are high. I spent most of yesterday with my new brother-in-law (a cousin-in-law by Western reckoning.) He was extoling to me the virtues of returning home. Mostly, it has to do with the endless financial opportunites available in Macau right now. Low cost of living, a conservative and unskilled workforce, and rapid GDP growth mean a smart person can grow wealthy here. Millions. (But probably not billions.)

Everybody seems to have a different side on the benefits of the many casino construction. I guess it is the counting of winners and losers. Who stands to make money off the new casinos and the transformation of Macau into the Las Vegas of the Orient.

Rice in Pots

It's been awhile since I'd had one of those. Rice cooked in little pots.

I met with my cousin's aunt and had dinner at her house. She ordered out from this little takeout place inside of an alley on the side of the hill.

They sold those little pots of rice cooked and served inside the original pot. They charged 8 Pataca deposit for the each pot.