There are still plenty of colonial-style buildings painted in pastel yellow, pink and peach. The city center, with streets paved with mosaic tiles, is on UNESCO's World Heritage List.
But Macau's dreary side is easy to find. Beautiful buildings are far outnumbered by drab concrete apartment blocks. In the old casino district, streets are lined with small stores illuminated with headache-inducing fluorescent lights. Shop windows are crammed with Zippo-like lighters and gaudy jewelry.
Buxom, bleach-blonde Russian women in tight pants hang out at outdoor cafes behind the Holiday Inn Macau. Skinny Chinese prostitutes dart from closed storefronts in search of clients, saying: "Massage, massage?" -- the codeword for "sex" at the rate of US$63 an hour. Some hand out flimsy business cards with fake names like "Yang Yang" or "Ling Ling."
Macau was a darker, more dangerous place in the late 1990s when the Portuguese were preparing to leave. Criminal gangs -- or triads -- waged turf wars with drive-by shootings, kidnappings and car bombs that scared away tourists.
In a desperate bid to lure back visitors, one security official famously proclaimed there was nothing to fear in Macau because the triad assassins were professionals who didn't miss their targets.
The violence ended after 1999 when the Chinese People's Liberation Army marched into Macau. But the biggest change came a day after the handover, when the Chinese government announced it was ending the four-decade monopoly on gambling held by Hong Kong tycoon Stanley Ho (
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