Monaco

I will admit one thing. I collect countries. My rules are simple; it has to be a UN Member state and all you have to do to add another notch on your headboard is step into the country.

‘But that’s just silly’ said one friend. ‘I mean stepping into a country does not mean you’ve been to it.’

‘But when in the country, whose laws am I subject to?’

‘The country you’re in’ said my friend.

‘So in that case, if I am subject to its laws, I am in it. No?’

My friend refused to agree and instead said something like ‘yes but…’

‘If I step into your house. Where am I?’ I asked.

‘My house. But you have not seen my house.’

‘Quite frankly I do not want to see your house’ I said ‘I have seen enough of it and it is quite messy.’

The point of this conversation? I was in Nice and I travelled to the Principality of Monaco to get another country on my list. Monaco was to be country number 42. I took the train from Nice, but needed to wait an hour as I missed the previous train by eight minutes. Half an hour or so later I was standing in the underground in one of the richest places on Earth. I should have dressed the part, but even in my H&M shorts and sandals I was dressed a lot better than some of the tourists there. From the train station I turned right towards the casino. Literally, the directions of the country can be given as turn right or left rather than go east or west. Walking up the steep hill I stopped to admire the elegant yachts, which were bigger than my apartment building neighbourhood in Nicosia. The hot tub on one of the yachts was three times the size of my bathroom. I wondered who owned it. Then I wondered the cost of maintenance. Then I felt dizzy. Was it the sun rays reflecting off the bling of the yachts? Was it because I drank nothing all day other than a cappuccino? I made my way to the casino. Perhaps they would allow me a glass of water.

However I was unable to enter the casino. Firstly because three Ferrari’s were blocking my path to the entrance. (The nerve of some people not to observe the parking regulations! Did the guy with a Ferrari think he was some kind of oligarch or rapper or something?) Once I climbed over the Ferraris to get to the casino entrance security did not let me in. They said it was for visitors only. I tried to explain that I was a visitor.

‘Who are you visiting?’ asked the security guard (with the attitude of a bouncer).

‘I am visiting the Principality of Monaco’ I said.

‘Do you have a reservation for this person?’

‘You mean a visa? None needed?’

‘Visa? What do you mean visa? Like Visa Card? Like Amex?’

‘What?’

‘No visitor. No entry’ he said.

By that I assumed the security guard slash bouncer meant ‘no cash, no entry’ and all I wanted was a glass of tap water… So instead I went to the kiosk and bought a small bottle for EUR 7.50.

I then walked back down the hill, across the marina up to the old town and palace. It was nice. It was pretty. It was so perfect and well-kept that it felt like I was in a theme park. Disneyland. The only difference was that the stones and rocks in Monaco were real whereas in Disneyland they were plastic and that there were no screaming kids eating candy-floss. Instead of screaming kids there were blonde women with clothes that screamed out sxvvv. They were accompanied by an older, plumper gentleman (their uncle?) as they sashayed around Monaco, looking bling and trying not to let their make-up run under the summer sun as they walked around the cobbled old town with its views towards the Mediterranean sea.

After a few hours I had taken in as mush of Monaco as I could have or taken in as much as the country had to offer and made my way back to Nice.

All joking aside, Monaco is a gem of a country, one that I recommend visiting if you are in the south of France. For more information on the Principality, visit the official site here: http://www.visitmonaco.com