The night I slept in a brothel in Macao

Let me begin by admitting that it was an accidental event rather than a deliberate act on my part. I was living in Hong Kong in my twenties, undertaking research. I went over to Macao on the ferry, which was slow but fun, and it came with built in cockroaches, but not all that many I guess. After getting off the ship I wandered around Macao, at the time a Portuguese colony, and grabbed a bit to eat at a street stall. The food was excellent and cheap; no complaints there. I needed a place to stay. All students seek cheap places to stay. The sofa of a friend is reasonable. Putting the sofa cushions on the floor and sleeping on them is better. Trust me, I have experience in this area. Sleeping in an armchair is acceptable as long as it is large and well padded, but sleeping in two chairs pushed together is a no-no. They always drift apart in the night and a stiff back is the best one can hope for. A most unpleasant and unexpected descent in the small hours is more likely.

But I digress. Wandering along the Macao seafront, I found a tatty-looking hotel and enquired the price of a room for the night. Not too bad and I could just afford it. So I checked out the room, up on the second floor. A reasonable bed but a large flashing neon sign outside the window. Well, that explained why it was so cheap. I was young. I normally slept like a log. I could live with a flashing light. I booked in and eventually went to bed. A good night’s sleep was what I needed and assumed that I would get.

This was not to be. It was not the flashing light that kept me awake, nor the traffic noise outside, not even the giggles and constant tread of footsteps on the landing outside the door.

Around two in the morning there was an extremely noisy clatter of boots outside my room, as a large number of people went racing up the stairs. Boots, in a sticky Macao night? They are not the normal attire of locals or holidaymakers in for the gambling in the floating casinos. They are, it transpired, the normal footwear of the local police. It was a raid. The hotel I had selected was it turned out to be a well-known local brothel and the gendarmes had chosen that exact night to raid the place.

A youngish Chinese police officer burst through my door, keen and eager. He saw me, stopped, then stared.

“You are alone!”

My sleepy response was “Yes, I am trying to get a good night’s sleep.”

“But you have no woman!”

“That’s how I normally get a good night’s sleep!”

“Well, it is unusual but I guess there is no law about it. We are just raiding this brothel and I did not expect to find a lone European here. Go back to sleep!”

So I did.