When I first visited the then Portuguese Colony of Macau in the late 80's I just took a short jet propelled speed boat from Hong Kong, where I lived and worked.
I accompanied my late mother to visit her long lost distant relative who was said to have escaped from another sovereign country, for some years.
After some strenuous effort, we found him, at his medical clinic, at a street corner. When he escaped into his freedom, he was in his late teens. So, my mother was surprised that he could manage to study and earn a medical degree from the Portuguese run varsity.
Notwithstanding that, I found his clinic very spartan and not reflective of an average clinic in normal practice. But indeed he had that medical certificate recognised by the then Portuguese Government hung on the wall.
Out of curiosity I walked up to the upper floor of his 2-storey clinic to fact find. It was supposed to be an Operating Room but I found it less than adequate to be just a clean room instead. A neighboring family could be frying some niceties which somehow got into my nostrils when I was still in that Ops Room.
I kept silent since he had a few patients to be treated. My imagination went somewhat awry. It was another episode where I found a First World profession imperfectly fitted into a Third World scenario.
Fancy that.
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