Macau Postcard

After the short ferry ride from Hong Kong I was determined to find accommodation within Macau all by myself.

It was the ‘man-up’ thing to do, especially after the All Blacks World Cup quarter-final loss to France.

One hour later, sweating like an All Blacks drop-goal exponent, within 10 minutes of my chosen destination, I relented and asked the referee for help.

She pointed me in the direction of the changing rooms, but I even missed that; been yelled at from behind after I had walked too far.

Retracing my steps, I shock my head, still hoping to wake from the shame and the disappointment.


Macau central shopping district
Macau Church of St Paul

Chapter 3

She stood there in the distance.

Her long silk dress sliding down her taut shapely body; following every curve, it flowed like a calm ocean that will eventually crash upon the shore, tearing and clawing at the sands, before receding into the wilderness.

Shining under the light, the dress mirrored my thoughts and my memory.

The need to make her mine again, to encase her in my arms and feel her breath against mine; all breathing then swallowed and suspended, our jaws locked, sucking out the life.

For that is all we had.

Two parts, for a moment whole, never torn asunder.

It was worth dying for…

Two souls, in a fake casino, surrounded by cheap people, standing 50 metres apart; I knew she had sensed me watching.

But still I did not move; for even though we shared the same profession, she was the predator of the two.

I was just in our line of work for the money; trying to sleep at night.

She, I think, with her reflexes slowing receding and her looks gradually fading, was just coming to that same realisation.

There was no end goal; no glory.

We had both been sold a lie.

Now becoming too melon-collie I was about to take off.

But looking up, I finally noticed a glimpse of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Lips as red as blood; it was a dangerous game.

Turning to face me, she confidently strode forward.

Saying nothing she discreetly handed me a slip of paper; not even stopping to say “Hello.”

But then, I guess, we had not talked that much before.

The slip of paper simply read – ‘Chengde.’

Macau view
Macau cannon gun