A funny thing happened to me on the way to the swimming pool of The Venetian Macau: I got lost.
I was diligently following the signs and maybe that was where my problems began. I took the lift from the casino floor to level three where the sign told me the pool was located. I alighted the lift at level three where I was greeted with another sign telling me that the pool was 110 metres away, down a long corridor. And so I took off.
At the 60 metre mark there was another sign telling me that the pool was now 60 metres away. I was on the right track. A few lefts and rights and I guessed I was getting closer. At the end of this corridor was a sign telling me to take another lift down to level one.
But hold on a minute. Wasn’t I on level one when I was on the casino floor? Nevertheless, I took the lift back down to level one. When the doors opened, and without the aid of a sign, I took a left turn. About 20 metres or so I guessed that I’d gone the wrong way, back-tracked and found the entrance to the pool.
Here I was greeted by not one but four people, two behind the desk and two standing in front of it waiting with hope for anybody to stumble onto their little slice of Venetian Macau heaven.
I signed the “visitors’ book” (not sure why), and was escorted through a few more sets of doors and out into the pool area. There were five swimming pools and one jacuzzi I was told, although only three pools were operational at the time. I had a look around, nodded when I thought it was appropriate and then headed back out in the direction that I had come, remembering that I didn’t have my swimmers anyway, and waved godbye to the half-dozen staff behind the tiny desk.
I also checked out the outdoor pitch and putt golf course and the gym, which were thankfully far easier to find, and ventured outdoors to the so-called Cotai Strip, whose purpose I really can’t explain or define.
The outside of the Venetian Macau is, to say the least, highly bizarre. The main entrance is as I would expect the ancient city of Pompei to have looked when it was first re-discovered by archeologists. There are acres and acres of stone walls, paved pathways, bridges over man-made waterways, empty gondolas, statues, and intricate carved facades that are devoid of almost any life forms.
Whereas in the real Venice there are people, tourists, pigeons, waves lapping the stone walls, and rubbish bouncing around in the dirty water, the Venice of Macau, courtesy of The Venetian, is plastic and almost deserted. Even the lift to the observation deck of the spire that is so recognizable in imagery of The Venetian Macau is out of action on the day I visit. And no wonder. It’s probably rusted over from lack of use.
Back inside, visitors are invited to take one of dozens of escalators to The Grand Canal Shoppes and Gondola where yes, you guessed it, you can shop or ride a gondola. Here again the architectural theatre is just phenomenal. The San Luca Canal, the Grand Canal and the Marco Polo Canal, resplendent with replica Venetian-style buildings, and even blue sky with fairyfloss clouds, are all contained here and, it appears, relatively devoid of life sans gondola drivers and shop assistants. Designer brands are all contained in shops that could each grace the cover of Vogue Living for their style and pizzazz.
But nobody, it seems, gives a rat’s about what surrounds The Venetian Macau, or what’s up the grand staircases. They all come – and they do come – for the gambling that is at the literal heart of the building. The only real action is on the casino floor.
And what a floor. If you added the floor space of all of Australia’s casinos together then you’re probably close to understanding the size of the Venetian Macau. About six months after opening the casino welcomed its 10 millionth visitor and was apparently nearing half a billion dollars in revenue (just a shade under half of the total cost it was to build).
Suffice to say, it’s big. And busy. And smoky. If you work in a more standard hotel, resort, or even casino are you feeling envious yet? And I haven’t even mentioned the convention and meetings facilities. On that score let’s just say that those who constructed this property don’t do things by halves.
But here’s the good news for all those people out there who may be wondering how they can possibly compete with such a behemoth as the Venetian Macau. Sure it’s big. Sure it’s got great shops, great conference facilities, great restaurants, accommodation rooms the size of small apartments, and enough staff bigger than plenty of complete cities (around 14,000 staff at last count).
But you can forget all that, ‘cos the fact of the matter is that right at this very moment, the Venetian Macau has got no soul. Maybe that might change when Cirque du Soleil sets up fulltime, or when entertainers like Celine Dion hang around for longer than one or two days. But right now, unless you like gambling or paying for overpriced designer goods, or floating around on a gondola on a near-deserted man-made waterway with fake blue sky above you, the Venetian Macau and Macau full stop have got nothing on us.
In comparison our meetings space might be tighter, our casinos smaller, our staff levels lower, and shops less ritzy, but we certainly make up for our some-may-say shortcomings (no pun intended) in plenty of other ways. And I say thank goodness.
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