Macau moggies, mostly...

Macau was a blend of its Chinese and Portugese lineage. This meant we couldn’t go wrong with the food! The Macau Arts Festival was the order of the day (or week).
Let me open, for a change, with a customary post-performance congratulatory bouquet! Another in the series: Flowers In My Tuba. The Dom Pedro V Theatre (venue) is the ‘oldest Western-style theatre in China’ (built in 1860).

A gorgeous cat at the Meow Space in Macau, photographed through the window. Part cat protection society, part gallery, with much moggy-inspired art, crafts and photography.
The cats are rescued, healed and socialised, then carefully found new homes. The socialising involves a fine collection of fabulous felines roaming the shop, there for the pattin'! Wonderful!

So much to look at out the window. The store is filled with art, crafts mostly of the type that, though a card-carrying-cat-lover, I did not need to purchase. Many of the photographs (also sold as postcards, for the cat-carrying-card-lover) depicted the cats' stories; cats who had been rescued, healed, socialised and re-homed.

Secr-cat-arial duties! Actually, opposite a staircase, watching for the person who just went up there to come back down.

Still cat with centimetres.

Cute cagey kittens, not quite ready to be trusted to piss-I-mean-roam the space yet...

"It's a living!" This man cleans and polishes people’s cars on the street. Water in the bucket, cleaning products, rags and dusters at the ready. I wouldn't have thought that cleaning one's car would be high-priority... but this is possibly more a reflection on the neglectful way I approach my own car's scheduled ablutions!

Street siesta.

Somehow strangely conflicted: Yin-Yang graffiti

Impressionistic cityscapes: In the casino district the buildings ripple with colours.

Bubbly building: If The Boy In The Bubble aspired to a mansion... in a prime location... that changed colours. THIS would be it! Look no further! Make no mistake! Inspections: 24/7.

Summit statue.

This sign (in the hotel lobby) advertising the Historic Jogging Route made me wonder about seeing the sights bootcamp-style... um, perhaps not. Imagine the tour group, hearts racing, chests heaving, temples bulging, gleaning historical detail from the tour guide, heart racing, chest heaving… nah, the tour guides would surely be elite athletes! ELITE (it's very hilly, sans the claimed-land casino precinct).

On the other hand, ‘historic joggers’ will surely outlive me!