Macau

On 7 October Macau, a special administrative region of the People’s Republic of China, celebrates Chong Yeong, or Ancestors’ Day. Macau? It was the first Europeans colony in China—the Portuguese arrived in the 16th century, administering the region until 20 December 1999, when it was handed back to China. This means it also outlasted the other special administrative region of Hong Kong. Macau itself (which is very close to Hong Kong) consists of the Macau peninsula and the islands Taipa and Coloane.

While there were people living the region a long time before the Portuguese arrived, apparently Macau didn’t develop into a major settlement until the Europeans hit the shore. I imagine it must have been laidback when it was mostly fishermen—no casinos back then. (Tourism is big—can you say “Gambling Mecca?”)

After the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, relations between the Portuguese and the Chinese got a bit complicated—the government in Beijing declared the Sino-Portuguese Treaty of Amity and Commerce invalid, deeming it an “unequal treaty.” When the government first declared this in 1949, there wasn’t a lot of movement on the question. Things started to change after riots broke out in 1966, during the Cultural Revolution. The Portuguese government apologised, and this saw the beginning of de facto control by the Chinese. While there was a treaty signed in 1987 making Macau a special administrative region of China, it took another 12 years for China to resume sovereignty.

Rather than a poem, what I actually have something a little different: a segment of Jules Verne’s book The Great Navigators of the Eighteenth Century, which contains an account of La Perouse, the French explorer, arriving at Macau during his voyage around the world. The full text is available online here.

After taking the position of the Bashees, without stopping, La Perouse sighted the coast of China, and next day cast anchor in the roadstead of Macao.

Here La Perouse met with a small French cutter, commanded by M. de Richery, midshipman, whose business it was to cruise about the eastern coast, and protect French trade.

The town of Macao is so well known that it is needless for us to give La Perouse's description of it. The constant outrages and humiliations to which Europeans were daily subjected under the most despotic and cowardly government in the world, aroused the indignation of the French captain, and made him heartily wish that an international expedition might put a stop to so intolerable a state of things.

The furs which had been collected upon the American coasts were sold at Macao for ten thousand piastres. The sum produced should have been divided among the crews, and the head of the Swedish company undertook to ship it at Mauritius; but the unfortunate sailors themselves were never to receive the money.

Leaving Macao on the 5th of February, the vessels directed their course to Manilla, and, after sighting the shoals of Pratas, Bulinao, Manseloq, and Marivelle, wrongly placed upon D'Après' maps, they were forced to put into the port of Marivelle, to wait for better winds and more favourable currents.

—Jules Verne, The Great Navigators of the Eighteenth Century

Faroe Islands

Remember the Faroe Islands? That little cluster high above Scotland, halfway to Iceland? Today is Olavsoka in the Faroes—St Olaf’s Day. Olav is the patron saint of the Faroes, and this is one of the parts of the world where that is a big deal. Saint days for specific places allow the same kind of celebration of national culture that Independence and National days do elsewhere. Whenever I look at pictures of the Faroe Islands I want to go—they don’t look like a place to go partying, but a pretty, quiet place. The perfect location for a writing cabin? Maybe. Oh, and Tinganes, the seat of the islands’ government, is a beautiful colour red, located right on the water. Lovely.

The Faroes are officially an autonomous province of Denmark—apparently this makes them a member of the Rigsfællesskab, which I have just learned is just the Danish term for the relationship between Denmark and its self-governed insular regions—Greenland, then, is also a “member.”

The history that we do have of the islands starts, of course, with some Irish monks. (All good history should…) Some hermits took themselves to the island, bringing sheep and oats with them (and then, I hope, ignoring each other in proper hermit-style) as well as the (early) Irish language. Also, Saint Brendan (you don’t remember when he lived? 484-578. Now study up on your hagiography, dear readers) is said to have visited the islands more than once. (More recently, Bill Clinton visited too. He clearly didn’t want to be outdone by Saint Brendan, who didn’t even have the advantage of Atlantic Airways.)

In the 7th century, Vikings set up shop, replacing the monks and other settlers, and replacing the Irish language with Old Norse—modern Faroese comes from this language. (My Old English teacher, to invoke him again, says that the Faroese language is still recognisable if you know Old Norse: in the more isolated regions, the language changes less, as it has less outside influence. There are a few islands off the coast of Maryland and Virginia in the US where it is said the inhabitants speak something similar to the Elizabethan English of the early settlers in the US—again, isolation. Why don’t you test it out? Study up on Old Norse, go to the Faroe Islands and pick up the local newspaper. Tell me what you can understand.)

Norwegians had control of the islands until Norway entered the Kalmar Union with Denmark, and when the union between Norway and Denmark ended in 1814, Denmark got custody, so to speak, of the islands. Oh—and until the 18th century, the population never exceeded 5000. These days its close to 50,000.

As nationalist movements were happening around Europe in the late 19th century, so too did nationalism hit the Faroes: the first step was built around keeping the Faroese language alive. The next step was political, with the foundation of local political parties early in the 20th century. Now the islands are autonomous, and take care of most things themselves—Denmark is in charge of defence, the legal system and foreign affairs. Interestingly, under stipulations in European Union treaties, inhabitants of the Faroes aren’t considered Danish nationals, and so they’re also not citizens of the European Union. Having now found out that all those living in the various French collectivities and departments are the world are in the European Union, I guess I find that a little surprising.

Still wondering about Saint Olaf? He was king of Norway from 1015-1038 (he was known as Olaf the Stout). He declared himself king, wiped out the kings to the south, married the Swedish Princess Ingegerd Olofsdotter without her father’s approval, and when Ingegerd died he married her half-sister, the illegitimate Astrid Olavsdttr, also the daughter of king Olof Skötkonung of Sweden. So where’s the saintliness?

Well, he Christianised Norway, and made efforts to establish greater church organization. Isn’t that enough? He was only officially canonised in 1888, but had been considered a saint long before that. Though he’s also the patron saint of Norway, the Faroe Islands are the only country/territory that keep St Olaf’s day as a holiday.

Looking around from a poem from the Faroe Islands I found this small piece by Christian Matras—translated from the Faroese by George Johnston. It originally comes from here.



Far Off the Sea

Softly falls the night

and children are in the field below the fences.

They run for the haybarn door

where shrunk boards leak

sweetness into the dusk.

Far off the sea whets his roar

in the hushed night between the hills.

—Christian Matras
translated from the Faroese by George Johnston

The Åland Islands

The Åland Islands are an autonomous province of Finland, and on 9 June they celebrate Självtyrelsedagen, or Åland Self-Governing Day: this is the anniversary of the first congregation of the regional government. While it’s not quite independence I thought it would fit the scope of this project because Självtyrelsedagen celebrates a recognition of a different group of citizens within the Finnish nation. Åland is, interestingly, a monolingual province—and the language isn’t Finnish. They speak Swedish in the Åland islands. Åland consists of the main island, Fasta Åland, and over 6,500 other skerries and islands. There is only one land border among the islands—the uninhabited islands of Märket is shared by the Åland and Sweden.

The islands belonged to Sweden for the period prior to 1809—before they came under the control of Imperial Russia. They became part of the Grand Duchy of Finland, the predecessor to the modern nation, while the region was still part of the Russian Empire. Early in the twentieth century, the Åland islanders worked towards the goal of having the islands ceded to Sweden—reportedly, over 95 percent of Åland’s adult population signed a petition for secession—but Finland wasn’t willing for this secession to take place. Instead, in 1920, the islands were granted extensive autonomy, which was reaffirmed when Finland entered the European Union.

As well as its own government, Åland has its own national flag—and it issues its own postal stamps too. (I have to admit, this project is making me want to restart the stamp collection I had as a child…)

It took some searching, but I found a poem by an Åland writer—Katarina Gäddnäs. I found the poem online here.



Finlandia II
— a polyphonic work for symphony orchestra, metal band and large choir

Through the darkness you must go, through the forests and the tarns’ black waters.
Through the sauna you must go, through the beer, the sausages, the birch twig whisks.
Through the drinking you must go, through the vomit and the knife-fights.
Through wood pulp, steelworks and telephones you must go.
Through November cities and the extinguished windows of the village shop.
Through Moomin Valley you must go, through symphony orchestras, opera and monster rock.
Through glass birds and bentwood furniture you must go,
through large-patterned fabrics and traditional knitwear.
Through vodka, reindeer hides and cloudberry liqueur you must make your way
Through tar-smelling jetties and glittering summer bays boulder fields, swamps and fells in their autumn tints you must go.
Through ski-jump slopes, hockey fields, running circuits you must go
Through jazz and tango festivals, light summer nights, bird migration times
Through elk-hunts and bear fever you must go.
Through all the languages we are silent in, you must go
Through the refugee camps, and the wars,
through the wars you must go.
Through hunger, famine and rationing
you must go as the ice-breakers go.
Through all the ages you must go ages that rest like earth’s primordial creases
in the faces of the old.
Through the children’s laughter and the games of playgrounds you must go.
Through the moss in the swamp you must go
Through the darkness, the forests and the tarns’ black waters.


— Katarina Gäddnäs
Translated by David McDuff