Letters from China, Part 4

I shouldn't have ended that last mail on the note I did. I smugly remarked 'enjoy the cold weather'. Did I? Fuck. It's dropped to 10c here, not too bad, but it's the sort of faceless cloudy half cold business I was hoping to put off for another week or so. 
Luckily Florence took me to Coloan, the third part of Macau, the day before the weather changed. Coloan is the rural beachy island of Macau, It's like any other tropical Island, big beach, restaurants & barbeques near the shore, palm trees etc. We walked along the beach until we came to this huge Westin Hotel. On the way I climbed up some fun rocks, you had to run up the first bit, it was a bit more than 45 degrees and there weren’t any handholds for a ways, so the only way up was speed. I climbed past leg breaking height into backbreaking height, and scrambled back down after I'd tasted neck-breaking height. Good fun.
We jumped the barbed wire at the Westin and headed brazenly for the golf course, Florence was after a life size chess set she remembered from her youth. The security was poor due to the fact that since the Portuguese left with their poorly behaved brats, vandalism is virtually unknown in these parts. We walked the length of the golf course; stopping to climb some more fun rocks on the way and decided chilled in the beach chairs in the pool on the way back. I failed in my attempts to convince Flo to get naked for some pool hoping (a proud tradition of my people) so we broke back out again and had some Portuguese food on the beach on the way back (fresh fishes etc.) 
Next morning Flo's uncle showed up. He looks more like her than the rest of the family, and he had pictures of her dad (poor girl's never seen picts of her pa before, some long ago beef with her mom put paid to that) that's why she's so skinny. Picture a grown man skinnier than Florence. Same hands too. In 70's Hong Kong gear. He had some pictures of the rest of the family all 70's-ed out. Big hair, brown cars etc. 
We went out to get some dim sum, and I left early to do some shopping (dude didn't know English and I didn't want to cramp the reunion with constant demands for translation) When I got back to the place (with my most Japanofabulous bunch of threads yet) they were fighting. Florence with a broom and uncle Flo with a sword. Figures. Uncle Flo's a martial artist too. He does some southern shaolin style, Shorter and more powerful than northern, and they spend the afternoon comparing techniques. Apparently another uncle does eagle style. Hands strong as vices. I shit you not; everyone is kung fu fighting over here, though I have yet to see it in action. 
I went back to the casino again yesterday, the big Sands one. I was bored. Flo was on the mainland again buying weapons (she came back with a spear, another sword and a couple fighting fans) and it was right near this place, which was closed. I got 200 hkd (the exchange rate is 1 pound to around 14.5 patakas of Hong Kong dollars) and went looking for a game to play. Most of the minimums on the tables were 2 or 3 hundred, I can't play baccarat, and I don't wanna blow my wad on one hand of blackjack, so that left the roulette. I watched for a bit, sour looking bald geezers were taking big stacks of 100's and thinning them out through all the numbers on the board, putting a little more here, a little less there, sometimes doubling up by putting the money on the line in between. In other words, spreading their bets. I try to bet on evens, but the croupier tells me it's a 200 minimum for that, so I put a 50 on 19, loose 3 quid. 
I look around at my surroundings, employees everywhere, free drinks for the big wheels, very impressive (if gaudy) building, must cost millions to run. Nightly. And who's paying for it I ask? Answer’s right there before my eyes. It takes a special sort of sucker to think they're goanna leave a place like the sands up in chips, and there's an aircraft hanger sized floor teeming with 'em right there before my eyes. I look more closely at my fellow suckers, remembering the girl I saw crying the first time I came in here. They stare intently at their respective games, no Japanese hipsters here, just stacks of chips growing steadily smaller as the night goes on. Heads getting balder and bored looking croupiers pulling in chips with "I could of told your dumb ass'' expressions on their faces. 
I cash in my remaining chips and leave these suckers to their wack pastime. Hollywood's got it wrong yet again. Gambling sucks. I'd still be up for a poker night amongst friends, but if there is a James Bond, and if he is a smooth operator, my money'd be on him giving these shit holes a wide berth and sticking to the meat markets. 
Here are some interesting facts about Chinese spirituality: Buddhism, while it plays a part in Chinese religion, is by no means the overriding philosophy here, at least not the Buddhism I'm familiar with. China seems more pagan to me, more akin to India in it's belief than I would have assumed from my outsider's knowledge. Outside every door is a little shrine to the god of the house. Inside every house is a shrine to this angry looking bearded red guy with a pole arm who is the patron of ''ye hey'' the Chinese concept of social generosity (if someone has good ye hey they are generous and attract the generosity of others) You want to light some incense for the red guy if you depend on the good will of others, especially if you are a cop or a gangster. That's why they like him here in southern China, home of gangsters and the cops with whom they interact. Also there are neighbourhood shrines devoted to what is basically the god of the block. If you got a shop in the neighbourhood, best leave a little incense there, maybe a stack of oranges, and if you really want to please one of these deities, burn some 'hell money', special fake money you can get to burn for the gods. Superstition ends when it comes to burning real cash in China. 
Today we went to this neighbourhood restaurant. Neighbourhood restaurants look dodgy to our western eyes, I was talking to this Pilipino girl today who still gets freaked out by the way things work here after 12 years, but the food is as good as a fancy pants four star restaurant. Trick is, you just have to do your own dishes. Here's how: you get a bowl, a cup a spoon, some chopsticks a pot of tea and a pitcher. First you pour some tea into your bowl, you swoosh the spoon and the chopsticks around in the tea, and then you swoosh the cup around in the bowl as well. Then you dump out the tea in the pitcher and they take it away. Then you're ready to eat. Easy as that. Meal in a place like that will cost you two pounds at best, and that's in upscale Macau, mainland's even cheaper. China is no place for sissys, but you probably eat less roach legs washing your own dishes than if you trust some crack head to do it like we do in old blighty. 
All right, gotta go. Next one'll be from the mainland so I might have some better material for yall. Till next time –