by Leah O'Hearn

Created on: July 25, 2009

It was another of those crazy layovers that I plan into my journeys for reasons of finance or sheer adventurousness (I've never been to Macaubefore). It was humid. I was already jetlagged and I had another good 12 hours of travel ahead of me. But I was going to Macau so help me God.

Bags in tow (including those under my eyes) I caught a bus from Hong Kong airport into Kowloon to get a ferry from the Tsim Sha Tsui docks to the islands of Macau that curious blend of the east and west, where I hoped to eat Portuguese egg tarts amidst the usual noisy bustle of a Chinese city. So far so good: the bus wound its way through the cluttered shop-fronted streets of downtown Kowloon. I had done the obligatory Google map search but really, I wasn't sure quite where I was going, so I got off the bus at a place that looked likely. Gradually, by asking directions from locals and with much pointing I found my way to the docks.

Touts inside the building competed for my business, but I managed to get a ticket on a ferry leaving very soon right then in fact. I ran through the building with its half hearted security and quarantine checks, my bags bouncing painfully against my legs, until, with much relief, I made it to the gangway. The ferry staff were leisurely preparing the boat for departure and suddenly I felt sheepish for my haste. Although our tickets specified a seat, no one seemed bothered by this constriction, so I gratefully collapsed into a seat by the window and began to doze. Opening my eyes later, I found the ferry steadily crossing the bay. Rain was beginning to spatter dully against the windows.

I arrived in Macau amidst pouring rain and high humidity. A busy bus stop with a confusing array of placards stood outside the marina. Each sign included pictures, lists of places, numbersperhaps easily understandable if one had done one's research, but one had not. The words 'Largo do Senado' shuffled into my sleepy mind and I duly found a bus that seemed to be going in that direction. The difficult part was in understanding the fare system. I dithered in front of an increasingly angry driver as I attempted to use my beginner's Mandarin to ask the price. He yelled fitfully so I tossed a few Hong Kong dollars in the slot and hoped for the best. He must have been having a bad day because he also yelled at some tourists who tried to ask for directions in Portuguese.

We rattled through the city, which combined the usual mess of Chinese cities with a dirty

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