Memories of Macau

Take a trip with me down memory lane, as I recall the bygone days of old Macau, the Portuguese colony in south China that has since become a monument to mammon

Ruínas de São Paulo - the remains of a 17th century church that burned down

When I first visited the then-Portuguese colony in 1980, I was only two years-old. My memories are non-existent. It was not until a few years later that impressions of the enclave began to form, backed up by now-grainy Polaroid photos, and tourist trinkets clung onto over the years. My most striking recollection though is the Mini Moke.

For those of you not familiar with this loveably tacky mode of transport, the Mini Moke was originally developed as a military alternative to the American jeep, but soon proved impractical, eventually finding alternative use as a beach buggy in countries such as California, Australia, and Portugal, where more than 10,000 were built between 1980 and 1993. The moke was ideally suited to Macau, with its tight, winding streets, and compact size; so much so that the local police used to drive them around the colony on patrol – it was also the most scenic way to see the Praia Grande.

Mini Moke for hire

Driving along this banyan lined street, which curves along the southwest corner of the Macau Peninsula, is probably my earliest memory of the city, a one hour jetfoil ride across the Pearl River Delta. It is also a symbol of just how much the place is changed. The once unimpeded views of neighbouring Taipa from here, and towards distant Hong Kong, have been replaced with views of reclamation, including former casino magnate Stanley Ho’s monument to his own might, the 338-meter high Macau Tower. It dominates proceedings, while further east lies land being used as a parking lot.

The Macau of my youth was a quiet backwater with little in the way of development, the antithesis to busy, commercial Hong Kong in many ways. That meant its quaint Portuguese buildings survived, while across the waters the British had knocked most of theirs down, to be replaced by skyscrapers. At least that’s how things used to be.

Invented by Boeing, there was no better way to fly

There had been gambling in Macau for eons – the Chinese and Europeans alike are known for enjoying a flutter on the dogs at the now-closed canindrome – but when Stanley Ho was granted the monopoly to run the casinos in 1961 everything changed. In the 1980s, I remember seeing the Casino Lisboa, with its impossibly illuminated signs which, when lit up at night, reminded me of a James Bond movie – a south China Monte Carlo. Things were, of course, much seedier than a young boy could realise (say hello to the friendly Russian lady), but as I grew up, Macau grew up too.

Working the Macau beat for Time Out Hong Kong, I stayed at the Four Seasons in 2008, and spent an evening strolling around the adjacent Venetian – without ever stepping foot outside. Despite being the second largest casino in the world, it all seemed rather a waste to me. Where was the charm, the culture, the city? Along the reclaimed Cotai Strip between the former islands of Coloane and Taipa, a stretch of land where a new Macau can be built, a utopian creation born of pataca signs - big is now always better.

In my youth, a narrow causeway stood where the strip now stands, I can recall passing over it on the way south to remote Coloane – an island that seemed to be at the end of the world. On my first sighting of the black sands of Hac Sa Wan, I thought the beach must be the dirtiest in the existence. Visiting in April, 1989, at 10 years-old, I assumed it must be the result of the Exxon Valdez oil spill – the slick having spread southwest from Alaska before settling upon this distant shore. However, its true volcanic origins revealed, I came to revel in this curious natural phenomenon – Hong Kong’s yellow, sandy beaches paled in comparison. I also came to enjoy the charms of Fernando’s.

Though nowadays it has become a parody of itself, packed at weekends with tourists and Hong Kong day-trippers (at least, it was before Covid), the restaurant nevertheless represents a consistent – a piece of the past that continues to do roaring business well into the 21st century. Its chorizo, codfish and homemade bread still hold me in thrall. In my teens, my family once booked three nights at the nearby Westin (now the Grand Coloane Resort) as a getaway from hectic Hong Kong – the highlight was a round on the attached 18-hole golf course. Stepping out onto the links at 8am was a pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning, though a dip after in the outdoor pool helped too.

The simple yet delicious fare at Fernando’s

I had been absent from Macau for some time before my return in 2008. Much had changed. I was visiting on a work-related daytrip, paying a visit to one of the new casinos gracing the strip. After cursory cocktails and canapés at the resort, I slipped away for a look off the balcony. There before me lay the glittering lights of old and new Macau, the neon lights beginning to outshine the falling sun. It was a spectacular sight, but another world from the place of my childhood. I wonder what it’s like now?