Vacant slots: the ghost in Macau’s slot machines

As if it were leaking sweet juice, Macau's big pineapple appears to draw in people, swarming like ants around its base. The Grand Lisboa, 260 metres tall, is supposed to look like a giant lotus flower, a symbol traditionally associated with good fortune, but it has been described as one of the world's weirdest buildings, reminiscent of an oversized version of the tropical fruit.

Inside, on the casino floor, the high ceiling affords a sense of space, despite a sweaty, steady crush of people below. Tourists revel in the frigid air-conditioning. Many are here just to watch, edging around the hordes clustered at "hot" tables. The carnival of flashing lights and childish, synthesised sounds seems out of place in a room full of serious baccarat players throwing down single bets of up to HK$300,000. Now and then a gleeful yelp or pained groan erupts from one of the tables, echoing throughout the room. No one reacts, least of all the croupiers.

Dressed in smart black jackets, with Mandarin necks and suggestive gold buttons, their rhythm is steady: bet-taking, dealing, again and again.

The click-clack of casino chips competes with pop music and the dim hum of voices. An announcement issues unintelligibly from the speakers. Every few minutes, women appear, pushing trolleys stocked with green tea or sweet rice dumplings: each shallow box packed snugly with two small, purple balls. A third trolley is piled with Kent, Marlboro and a Chinese brand of cigarette with the inelegantly translated brand name Lesser Panda. A woman with a rubbish basket collects scrunched-up plastic cups, empty sweet boxes and cigarette-packet cellophane. Each time the trolley procession passes it is received as enthusiastically as the last.

Lining a plush, red-leather wall on the far side of the room stand two banks of a less popular attraction. Of some 50 seats in the leftmost bank of slot machines, less than 10 are occupied - and at least three of the people in those are doing no more than taking a break from the action elsewhere. These empty seats represent a problem unique to Macau. Electronic gaming machine (EGM) companies, mostly American and Australian, are used to dominating the casino floor.

Macau's gaming revenue is almost four times that of the entire state of Nevada, home to Las Vegas and the United States' gaming industry. In Nevada, slot machines bring in almost twice as much money as do table games. In Macau the slots account for a paltry 4 per cent of takings.