Reading Macau at the European-style stone wall: Ruins of St. Paul's

Starting from Senado Square and following the crowd, stone steps unfold beneath your feet, and the sky resembles a sail opened by the sea breeze. As you look up, the solitary stone wall stands amidst the shadows of clouds and green trees—this is Macau's most iconic landmark: the Ruins of St. Paul's. Its presence is as striking as an open, thick book, with a cover scorched by fire, yet still compelling enough to make you want to read on. The Ruins of St. Paul's is actually part of the remains of the "Church of St. Paul." The original church, named "Mater Dei" (Mother of God), was part of the Jesuit architectural complex along with the adjacent St. Paul's College, built between 1602 and 1640. The college was established earlier, in 1594, by Jesuit missionary Alessandro Valignano. Together with the nearby Mount Fortress, the church and college formed the visual center of Macau's "citadel," witnessing the early spread of religion and knowledge in this port city. This architectural ensemble faced numerous challenges: it endured fires in the 17th century, with the most devastating being the fire during a typhoon night in 1835, which consumed the entire church, leaving only the façade and the long stone steps we see today. From the square below, there are 68 granite steps leading up; each step feels like walking through a history interrupted by flames. Up close, the façade stands 25.5 meters tall and about 23 meters wide, designed in a Baroque-Mannerist style and divided into five levels. The lower level is supported by columns and arches, the middle level features niches and statues of saints, and the upper levels gradually taper off. The stone surface is rich in details: the Jesuit emblem "IHS," Portuguese ships, chrysanthemums and lotuses, mythological and biblical scenes, and Chinese-style stone lions on both sides—Eastern and Western imagery intertwine on the same granite, resembling a 17th-century globalized puzzle. Many visitors look for a "unique sight" in the center of the third level: a relief of the Virgin Mary stepping on a seven-headed dragon (or "seven-headed serpent"), accompanied by Chinese inscriptions symbolizing "Our Lady trampling the dragon." This fusion of imagery from the Book of Revelation with Eastern cultural elements is said to be influenced by Japanese Christian craftsmen and local artisans involved in the carving, making the visual language of the Ruins of St. Paul's particularly inclusive. Broadening your perspective, the Ruins of St. Paul's is not an isolated attraction. It is part of the "Historic Center of Macau," which includes over twenty historical buildings and was collectively listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2005. UNESCO's rationale is clear: this area fully demonstrates the long-term encounter, interaction, and coexistence of Chinese and Portuguese cultures. In other words, the Ruins of St. Paul's is not just a beautiful wall; it is a convergence point of city memory, trade routes, religion, science, and linguistic exchange. Behind the façade lies the "Museum of Sacred Art and Crypt," developed during restoration efforts in the 1990s. Archaeological and reinforcement work from 1990 to 1995 organized and displayed the underground foundations, crypt, and unearthed artifacts. In the cool crypt, you can see the religious orders and believers once sheltered by this church, making history tangible enough to converse with. For travelers who enjoy contrasts, don't miss the nearby Na Tcha Temple (built in 1888). On one side is the Portuguese church ruins, and on the other is a small Chinese temple, standing close together as if splitting "Macau" into two halves and reuniting them, telling two stories within the same line of sight. If you continue upward to Mount Fortress, overlooking the city rooftops and the sea, you'll better understand why religion, military, and trade were intertwined here. I particularly enjoy visiting in the early morning, when there are fewer tourists, allowing time to slowly study the carvings. The sea breeze pushes the clouds low, and light and shadow move across the stone surface like turning pages. Start from the lower level: the central arch is inscribed with "MATER DEI," flanked by the IHS emblem. Look up to see the figures of St. Ignatius and St. Francis Xavier, imagining their disciples crossing the seas to this city, learning Chinese, translating scriptures, and using this "visual catechism" to communicate with local communities. Then wander freely among the lions, chrysanthemums, and ships—you'll find that this wall is a microcosm of the Jesuits' missionary strategy: speaking in a language that can be understood. If you consider the Ruins of St. Paul's as a "stone book," it tells more than just religious stories. The college was one of East Asia's earliest Western-style higher education institutions, nurturing talents in fields ranging from linguistics to astronomy and geography. After the Jesuits were expelled by Portuguese authorities (1762), the college closed, and the fire reduced the building to the "pages" of the façade. Fortunately, the protection of world heritage and the city's awareness have kept this page from being closed. Practical tips: For photography, choose early morning or dusk, when the backlighting makes the stone carvings more three-dimensional. Don't just take photos from the front; move to the grassy slope on the left or the alley on the right for a more beautiful perspective of the façade. After viewing, you can visit Love Lane and Lou Kau Mansion before returning to Senado Square. To extend the historical narrative, include Mount Fortress and the museum in your itinerary to form a clearer outline of the "citadel" in your mind. If traveling with elders, the steps are not steep but still recommend resting a few times at the bottom before ascending; on rainy days, the steps can be slippery, so wear shoes with non-slip soles. As you leave and look back, the façade alternates between light and shadow behind the clouds. I often think of replacing the name "Ruins of St. Paul's" with a more humanized term: it is a gate that accommodates differences, allowing the distant to come in and the local to go out. Perhaps this is the true reason it has become a symbol of Macau—not just because it is beautiful, but because it reminds us that this city was born from encounters.