From Bangkok, I took a flight to Macau. Despite all kinds of lores (including the current “it makes more money than Las Vegas”), mine was the only flight arriving during the hour plus I spent at the airport, which has no jetways and seems really like a “regional” one in the US. I was promptly picked out of the crowd by two zelous police official (man and woman, god created them) for an interview with their dog, who didn’t find anything to talk about, in spite of the handlers’ insistence, I petted the dog and was allowed to continue without further interference. The impression of the place is somnolent: the casinos are concentrated around the airport (new batch, with new Las Vegas franchises like the Venetian) and the sea port, where the quainter and kitschier settled in the beginning. I am tempted to ascribe the lack of congestive activity to the 2009 economic downturn, but both and either casino areas seemed rather deserted, except some indication of life right at the green tables and slot machines. All the shops, high end and low were deserted; most in fact downright closed, especially at the super kitsch “Fisherman’s Wharf”, a failed theme shopping mall (judging form appearences during my stay) where iconographic references of Ancient Rome, Ancient China and modern day Middle East by way of Hollywood and Las Vegas fail to conflagrate in a commercial bonanza.
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