Long-time readers of this blog might have noticed my affinity for Hong Kong. Despite the culture shock I experienced on my first trip there in 2012 – sharing a table with strangers at restaurants and keeping up with the fast-paced locals, among others – the city gradually grew on me, thanks to James who is instrumental in making my trips to his cherished hometown a relative breeze. Over the subsequent years, I kept returning there almost every Christmas. And with each trip, the lists of local dishes I’ve tried, cultural sights I’ve visited, hiking trails I’ve done, and small islands I’ve been to only get longer. I’ve even come to a point where I find Cantonese – the mother tongue of most Hong Kongers – more endearing than Mandarin. (I don’t speak either of them, but I do prefer the sound of the former.)

Cantonese is also a language spoken in Macau, Hong Kong’s sister from a different father (one is Portuguese, and the other British), as well as the neighboring Chinese province of Guangdong. However, in spite of this and Macau’s proximity to Hong Kong, I had only been to the former Portuguese colony twice, with the last visit back in 2015. A decade later, for the 2025 Christmas trip to Hong Kong, I pitched James the idea of also visiting Macau with trying more Macanese dishes as the top agenda. It was an easy sell. Most of my photos of the dishes we had in Macau in 2015 turned out blurry, and so did my memories of our meals back then. This trip ten years later, therefore, acted like a reset button.

There are three ways to reach Macau from Hong Kong. The most popular, which is also our favorite, is by ferry. Hydrofoils shuttle tens of thousands of tourists and residents of both cities every day. Efficiency is key here since passengers can get on the ferry from centrally-located terminals – one in Central and the other in Tsim Sha Tsui – directly to Macau, a journey that takes roughly one hour. The opening of the somewhat controversial Hong Kong–Zhuhai–Macau Bridge in 2018, however, offered a cheaper – albeit slower – travel option between the two Special Administrative Regions (SAR) of China. But if one is short on time but not on budget, another alternative is on the table: by helicopter.

Just like our previous trip together to Macau a decade earlier, James and I arrived at the city’s Outer Harbour Ferry Terminal that is situated in the east of the Macau Peninsula, one of the three main areas of Macau – the others being the islands of Taipa and Coloane. But don’t let the numbers fool you. Together, including the reclaimed zone between the two islands, they constitute only around 33 square kilometers, which means this territory is smaller than some microstates like San Marino and Liechtenstein. Yet, there are more than 700,000 people living in Macau, making it the world’s most densely populated country/territory.

This fact probably escapes most people’s mind, and many of us are more likely to think of gigantic casinos when the name Macau is mentioned. No one blames you if you do, though. When I first visited Macau in 2012, from the ferry terminal I took the free shuttle bus provided by Grand Lisboa, one of the largest upscale gambling dens in the city, that picked up and whisked hundreds of visitors each day to the heart of its economic engine. I remember finding my way out of the massive casino was rather confusing, as if the place was designed to intentionally keep people inside and spend their money for hours.

This time, we took a taxi which conveniently dropped us directly at the doorstep of our hotel – the same accommodation where we stayed toward the end of our six-month Spice Odyssey in 2015. Along the corridor to our room, I caught a glimpse of Macau Tower, a 338-meter giant needle piercing the sky, soaring high above other buildings in the territory. We took advantage of the hotel’s location to revisit some of the Portuguese-era churches that we saw ten years earlier, most of which were within walking distance from one another. From the humble-looking St. Augustine’s Church, to the more ornate St. Lawrence’s Church and St. Joseph’s Church, this time around we made sure to also check out their interiors.

We wandered along Macau’s narrow and maze-like streets, and stumbled upon pretty squares surrounded by handsome colonial buildings that lent these pockets of the city an undeniably atmospheric Old-World charm. However, trying the local Macanese cuisine was of course on top of our minds, and Restaurante Litoral was our first stop.

With a better camera in hand, my anticipation began to build as we stepped inside the cozy-looking, Michelin Bib Gourmand-listed establishment for a late lunch. This place is famous for its galinha africana (“African chicken”), which we obviously ordered. There are conflicting accounts regarding the origin of this dish, but it is unmistakably a product of centuries of Portuguese colonialism in Asia where influences from Goa (in present-day India) and Malacca (in what is now Malaysia) were introduced to the East Asian trading port of Macau. As it was accompanied by arroz de pato (baked duck rice) and porco balichão tamarinho (pork stew cooked with tamarind and fermented shrimp paste), our stomachs ended up very full, but happy.

Reliving our memories from the 2015 trip was not the only thing we had in mind. In my two previous visits to Macau, I only explored the peninsula, but had never set foot on Taipa or Coloane (and the reclaimed land in between). I had my reasons though; this southern part of Macau is home to colossal resorts bearing the names long associated with Las Vegas’ gambling and entertainment scene, including Wynn, MGM, and The Venetian – the latter is especially popular among tourists for its indoor gondola experience. If you’re into this kind of attraction, that’s fine. But it has never appealed to me. Fortunately, James knew a place in Taipa, aptly called Taipa Village, where old colonial buildings are still relatively well-preserved, offering a promising antidote to the glitzy casinos and hotels.

To reach Taipa from the peninsula, we took the Macau Light Rapid Transit (LRT), the city’s first-ever railway system. It is a subsidiary of the MTR Corporation, the operator of Hong Kong’s rapid transit which is often dubbed as one of the most reliable metro systems in the world. However, unlike its older sibling whose extensive network spans almost 250 kilometers, Macau’s LRT’s 16.3-kilometer length is meagre in comparison. The good news is more lines are either under construction or planned.

As the sleek Japan-made train pulled in at Barra station in the Macau Peninsula, we hopped on the automated people mover (APM) which then traversed the channel that separates the two sides of Macau. Moments later, the vehicle glided across the elevated track in Taipa, moving past tall apartment buildings, a forlorn-looking horse racing track, and a 16,000-seater stadium which hosted the 2005 East Asian Games, before arriving at Pai Kok where we alighted.

Immediately to the northeast of the station was Taipa Village, and a short walk later we came across a well-preserved Portuguese colonial building beautifully painted in celadon green. The former seat of the Concelho das Ilhas (“Municipality of the Islands”), which exercised governance over the islands of Taipa and Coloane, is now the Museu da História da Taipa e Coloane (“the Museum of Taipa and Coloane History”). And it was the perfect place to start our exploration of the village.

The museum itself was not the most exciting that I have ever been to, but the displays and the information panels were sufficient to give me a better understanding of Taipa’s (and Coloane’s) history. Its location along the main narrow thoroughfare of the village that funnels visitors to the area’s highest concentration of eateries – around what was once the Old Taipa Market – and the so-called Taipa Houses nearby means that even if you’re generally not interested in museums, you will most likely stumble upon it. So why not pop your head in and take a brief look anyway?

Joining a throng of other visitors, we walked toward the former market of the village, also known as the Feira do Carmo (“Carmo Fair”). The earliest historical records of this market were found in the Boletim da Província de Macau e Timor (the “Bulletin of the Province of Macau and Timor”, the latter referring to what is now the Southeast Asian country of Timor-Leste) mentioning 1886 as the year it was commissioned by the Portuguese colonial administration. What we saw at the time of our visit, however, was a lively quarter filled mostly with tourists who were curious to try the many local snacks and delicacies on offer. We opted to have one freshly-baked pastel de nata (also known as the Portuguese egg tart) each, probably the most emblematic of all desserts associated with Macau. It was just as scrumptious as I remembered from my previous trips to this city. While I also enjoy the Hong Kong-style egg tart, if I really had to choose, the Macanese version would be my pick.

We continued strolling east, following the main thoroughfare of the village, before stumbling across the late 19^th-century Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Carmo (“Our Lady of Carmel Church”). Nearby was the Jardim Municipal de Taipa (“Municipal Garden of Taipa”) where a statue of the 16^th-century Portuguese poet Luís Vaz de Camões stood at the highest point of the small but inviting garden. He was the author of The Lusiads, an epic poem that narrates the history and maritime explorations of Portugal that became a masterpiece, so much so the Portuguese language was influenced by his work. His death is now commemorated as Portugal’s national day.

Directly to the south of the garden housing the statue of the literary juggernaut was a group of five houses from the Portuguese colonial era, collectively known as the Taipa Houses. The early 20^th-century former residences once looked out over the sea from the southern shore of the island of Taipa. But today, the views were dominated by casinos and hotels occupying the reclaimed land between Coloane and Taipa known as Cotai (a portmanteau of the two islands it connects). Each of the house now serves a specific function: a museum, an exhibition gallery, a creative space, a “nostalgic” house, and a restaurant called Casa Maquista which happened to be where we were having lunch.

Making a reservation is highly recommended at this establishment due to its popularity, and this was something we didn’t do. At first, we were told that a table for two would only be available an hour later. But we didn’t mind since we had the other former residences to check out anyway. We even watched an impromptu performance by a man with his guitar singing Cantonese songs near the museum, which was a delight.

An hour had passed, and we went back to the restaurant where one of what appeared to be a predominantly Filipino crew welcomed us and showed us our table. As we studied the menu, we were discussing what dishes to order, before deciding with a medley of Macanese specialties: ovos recheados a moda de Macau (stuffed eggs fried in golden and crispy batter), chilicote (turmeric dumplings filled with Iberico pork and turnip), sambal de beringela (a vegetable dish made with tomatoes, onions, and eggplants – called brinjal among South Asian communities including in the former Portuguese colony of Goa), caril de camarão com quiabos (shrimp curry with okras), and the so-called capela (a meatloaf made with Iberico pork, smoked sausage, black olives, pine nuts, and bacon).

Minutes after our order was taken, another waitress came to our table and brought a bottle of still water. “Air?” she asked. We were surprised to hear the Indonesian word for water spoken to us. She must have heard us mixing English and Indonesian when we were perusing the menu. One by one the plates arrived, and with each dish we made small conversations with her. We eventually learned that she comes from a part of Java where my maternal grandparents were also from, and when we thanked her in Javanese toward the end of the meal, she had a big grin on her face. The dishes were delicious, but it was this unexpected warm interaction that made the experience even more memorable.

Later in the afternoon, we found ourselves returning to the Macau Peninsula. But the day had not ended yet. Before leaving the city the next morning, we had one more place to check out: Carlos da Maia roundabout, or the Three Lamps District as the locals call it, an area known for its high concentration of Burmese restaurants.

In 1962, when the military staged a coup in Burma (present-day Myanmar), ousting the country’s civilian government, many Burmese of Chinese descent fled to Macau for safety. The Southeast Asian country was then ruled by an authoritarian military regime – under different guises – until 2011 when it seemed to be opening up to the world, followed by a general election in 2015 when the NLD led by Aung San Suu Kyi won a historic landslide victory. Lamentably, the democratic progress of the nation was crushed overnight during the 2021 coup, bringing Myanmar once again firmly under military rule. However, despite the tumultuous decades in their homeland, the Burmese émigrés in Macau seem to be thriving, evident in the businesses they run in the Three Lamps District.

It was in 2015 when I had Burmese food the last time when James and I were visiting Myanmar for two weeks. The absence* of any restaurant in Jakarta serving dishes from this country made this underappreciated cuisine even more elusive for me, until I learned about the Burmese community in Macau. We settled at a local joint, then ordered mohinga (rice noodles served in fish soup which is often considered the national dish of Myanmar) and lahpet thoke (fermented or pickled tea leaf salad). The mohinga was very delicious – it’s actually my favorite Burmese dish – but we found the salad a little too salty, unfortunately. Nevertheless, it was really nice to be able to taste dishes from this country again, and before we left the place I threw in one of the very few Burmese expressions I know to the owner: ကျေးဇူးတင်ပါတယ် (pronounced “che-zu-tin-ba-de” which means “thank you”).

This trip to Macau was a success. Despite some periods of clouds, we did have beautiful blue skies in the end. Speaking of the food, the Macanese dishes we had not only were delicious, but they also provided a tantalizing window into the past cultural exchanges between Portugal and their former colonial possessions across Asia, evident in the use of ingredients and spices from Goa, Malacca, and beyond in the kitchens of Macanese households. And I’m deeply grateful for those who persevered in preserving this unique cuisine.

*A month after this trip to Macau, we were delightfully surprised to find out that the first ever Burmese restaurant in Jakarta had just opened. We have dined there twice so far, and we agree that the food tasted authentic, thanks to the fact that the chef is actually from Myanmar.