Saturday, 28 July 2007


the city of the Holy Name of God
Huge drops of sweat slide on my face, humidity will be my end. Not even the heavy fan of the ceiling that tears the air in the room with its constant and pendulous noise, seems to soften my suffering. Typhoons have been forecasted.

I long for the strong winds and for the warm tropical shower rains. Chinese tortures are the cruelest. The face that stares at me, indifferent and Asian, waits patiently, like a cat that plays with his catch, that I die in front of him, in my cage.

Only then, will move subtly the corner of his mouth, in what he will express satisfaction. The eyes, these I know, won't even blink, neither accuse any emotion.

The guard who stands on the other side of the iron griddle, already fixes me for two days, the hand caressing the long bayonet of the riffle that he does not leave.

The typhoid fever is causing a lot of damage on all this side of the river.

I can't rest, my delirium gets worse from day to day.

chinese paper

chinese paper

He asked for my passport and disappeared through the door behind the counter. The official was small and fat, and told me to sit on the sofa of used leather, I felt the red flag above me. The room was mistrated and only one painting was hanging on the walls, a view of the sea, tormented, covered with heavy black clouds, and an isolated rock.

I filled the form on the counter and said to wait. He was the only person and the already pale sun of October was coming through the window. I sighted towards outside and saw trucks and earth. I smiled. I felt China again. I once again sat on the tasteless sofa, I came to think that he was going to make me wait a very long time. The officials could be not in a mood to work today.

The functionary came back to the counter without my passport and told me once more to wait. He tried to came out of the counter by the door behind but it did not open, he had to turn around the other way through the corridor. He also glanced through the window and walked slowly, his hands in his coat.

When they called from the room next door, he didn't move or answered, they called again and did not reacted, until an official in uniform came in.

the frienship bridge
the frienship bridge

The South China Sea or the Pearl River. The only certainty is the brown troubled water. In the background, the sea becomes limpid like a hope.

the nobre de carvalho bridge
the nobre de carvalho bridge

Macao, to whom is coming from the islands, appears like a unfocused vision, not neat. "L'enfer du Jeu" as used to satirize a french friend, making allusion to a movie.

I remember to see the window panes tremble as if it was paper, during the typhoons.

A paper tiger? Did the panes broke down? Only under the fury of the elements was the smallness of the arrogance realised. I used to call it Sodom and Gomorrah, others Sin City...

Macao Bridge

To the left, the tallest buildind of Macao, the Bank of China. Everything was planned, thought to be the most imposing; in Hong Kong happens the same thing. Noblesse oblige.

almeida ribeiro avenue
almeida Ribeiro avenue

almeida Ribeiro avenue
almeida Ribeiro avenue

Macao, Rua Camilo Pessanha nº13.
Macao is a permanent fair, an anthill in constant movement, a popular fair. The permanent fair is a giant labyrinth of streets and alleys, from where you cannot leave because you've tasted the Lilau's water, that intwine and always lead to the Mahjong's game in the shadow of a hidden yard, where the birds in the bamboo cages long for whom will take them for a walk.

ribeira do patane
Inner Harbour

And in November, I've left the Christian city, I've abandoned it to never come back and to take refuge in the Chinese bazaar. I've enjoyed to hide in between the anonymous crowd. I sleep until late, go to bed in the morning, the colour of my skin changes, I become thinner and I smoke in bed. I started to frequent the Chinese taverns in the popular neighbourhoods. The rice is eaten with chopsticks in a bawl.

porto interior - the inner harbour
A lot of poetry has been written about Macao, due maybe to its peculiar situation, to the contact with the misterious Orient: I won't have that pretension. Macao is a prison, a city wo wants to be modern, with one of the biggest population density of the world, something like one metre square per inhabitant. A claustrofobic ambience that few can bare without suffering mental damages.

I walk up with the next door's neighbour, the windows have all iron griddles for the robbers, the doors too. Ny neighbour beats his child day and night, with screams that will make you mad, I thought to call the police, I was adviced not to do so.

The inner harbour is the last refuge of the pirates, and also is Coloane . I had a dried bonsai on my veranda; after a lot of efforts and patience, I've made him give one single leave. He died alone, he has ended solitary, when I went to the millenary China for a walk.

Inner Harbour

Inner Harbour

Inner Harbour

rua da pedra - stone street
stone street

escada do Muro - the wall staircase
the wall staircase

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