Macau: A melting wok of cultures

For a second, when I wake up, I don’t quite know where I am. My hotel room is completely over-the-top with Italian marble floors, gilded ceilings and a bathroom as big as a mid-sized Manhattan apartment. Beneath, I can see a network of canals on which gondolas ply constantly. But beyond the canals, there are pagodas, plush skyscrapers and a dull grey sea. A cup of tea later, I look at my nearly empty wallet, the contents of which I gambled away the night before, and then remember. I’m in Macau, the strange mishmash of cultures served up with a Chinese twist — and I ...

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Macau: A melting wok of cultures