Turns out the rest of China had decided to come along too, so our departure was delayed somewhat by the fact that we hadn't booked tickets because ferries leave every 15 minutes and we were sure we'd catch one without any problems...
But after lunch in the ifc (for a change), we boarded with the Super Class tickets we had been forced to plump for (not that much price difference in fact, and we got priority queuing, lounge access and a food platter, so in the end, we won!) and made our way to what was hopefully going to be a sunny, relaxing holiday by the pool.
We zoomed through immigration (apparently pregnancy is considered a “condition” worthy of the disabled lane...) and arrived at the Westin, where all was “luxe, calme et volupté” – there was a bathtub in which we could actually spread our legs, soft cotton sheets, warm fluffy robes and our own private terrace with an ocean view... OK the view was of muddy brown water and rain, but still, we were content.
That night we dined on Macanese classics in tiny Taipa village at Michelin-rated (but very reasonably-priced) Antonio's. Antonio himself was out all night among the white linen tables and Portuguese azulejos tiles, flambé-ing Crêpes Suzette and telling stories in his strong accent, looking like he hadn't stopped drinking for the last 20 years. On our way out he told us he looked forward to seeing us with a stroller next time... We'll be sure to oblige.
The next morning, in my robe, knitting booties for my child on my ottoman facing the sea, I started reminiscing about my own childhood, and the time, dedication and opportunities I was given. Perhaps it was the rain and fog, but I couldn't help but feeling that having a child is a little like having the attention taken away from you – for the last 30 years it has all been about how well or badly I was fulfilling the potential my daddy told me I had over silly morning games at home, learning how to draw patterns of flowers with a compass, but now that doesn't seem to matter, as if I have reached the apex of my potential, and once that has passed, only the baby's potential will count. It was a bittersweet moment of realisation, but one that I wouldn't swap for the world.
To get my ideas back in order, I decided to get up and affront the beast of a shower in our room and its two heads, but in fact the water pressure was so rubbish that Krusty went down to the spa for his wash (after a massage of course... which they wouldn't give me because, yes, I'm too pregnant...).
Krusty then spent the rest of the day recreating that infamous plastic bag scene from American Beauty, only Krusty's Macanese Beauty involved two hours each of staring at a boat jetty and a rotting bicycle. I see detritus, he sees art. He is practising his photography with panache, you see. But I wouldn't mind if he'd do it somewhere a little nicer...
As the weather was still miserable and the day of staring at a rubbish tip had been quite exhausting, we finished with a long bath in the long bathtub and the ultimate laziness of room service and a bad movie with Keanu Reeves on TV.
The next day, wanting to find somewhere that was interesting for me as well as for photography, we head off to Coloane Village, a sleepy seafront town eaten alive by the weather, where we had encounters with fishermen, churches, temples, students, egg tarts and a few arguments (mainly about where the external flash should go). If only the sun had come with us, we might have enjoyed the scarred walls and peaceful alleyways even more.
Back at the hotel, the Westin had arranged for a few live Easter bunnies to hop around in an enclosure where Krusty could actually climb in and pet them before heading over to the bbq next door. He was a happy man. And yet the weather continued to be bad. We went for the only option we had – a three-hour nap, two-hour swim and more room service before bed.
By then it was our final day, time to leave. We hadn't seen any of the casinos that make Macau the “Las Vegas of Asia”, we hadn't spent much time away from our room at all, and we hadn't spent any time in the outdoor pool that we had actually chosen the hotel for.
But we were relaxed. And happy. And ready for bambino to finally arrive.
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