Always read the signs
Secrets from concrete real estate
Old wealth haven
Always read the signs
The opportunity was there-we had planned on visiting Nice before heading to Italy anyway, so why not peek at Monaco. I think the warnings were there while in Nice; The taxi driver that quoted an insanely high price for about 16 kilometers or the disapproving look of the waiter in Nice when we referenced the renowned country. Now in reflection, it is surprising they even granted a train to pass through-you will understand more in a moment.
The Miramar Hotel was so serene and beautiful rested on the main street neighboring the water with such a friendly smiling receptionist that greeted our arrival. Outside our balcony, the harbor cradled yachts gently. The room was spacious with an intriguing sense of design. The bathroom with two sinks and a glass-doored shower was a luxurious combination of nautical and artistic rainforest. It was really the white ravens that were perched above the bathroom mirrors and bed dangling the room’s lighting from their beaks that established the setting. I mean, was it symbolism: Poe’s ‘The Raven’. The connection seemed subtle.
When we emerged onto the street with no solid expectations, the reflection of the sun setting beyond the mountainous wall on the water was so capturing. Similar to many Mediterranean bordering countries, as you look out towards the Mediterranean Sea, the blue enriches as the ocean disappears into the horizon. As we continued to walk, it seemed quieter than I had thought when we had arrived except for the Lamborghinis, Ashton Martins and Bugattis that would jet by now and again.
Secrets from the concrete real estate
There was more architectural-lacking, concrete real estate than I had expected for water front property. They were simple, residential buildings with balconies that lacked personality or…just literally people in that case. It was a beautiful day, yet no one on their balconies during the sun set. That is when I noticed a lack of people in general. There was such a limited number of pedestrians we passed that seemed to only be outside to solely walk their pups. This eerie feeling was growing.
Among all the random pieces of statues and art on the sidewalk, there was one piece called ‘When The Ocean Sounds’ by David Horvitz. It was a rather large piece with multiple “SHHH”s and “SHSH”s. Upon initial reflection, maybe it was a reminder to keep the streets quiet, but then again it could have been hinting at the hidden secret of this city. Next to the piece, there was plaque that continued to explain that it represented the ocean, but the secret metaphor was more overwhelming.
It was relieving to stroll along some mothers quietly chatting while watching their children ride on scooters. I guess that area was some sort of park, but I do not remember seeing any kind of play structure or even a single swing set. The area transitioned into some waterfront property to an artificial beach. I think this was the first time opportunity was taken on waterfront property, other than the area of harbor-yacht association near the Miramar.
The artificial beach homed a few beach-themed restaurants with patios and an enclosed swimming area which seemed ideal for warm weather. It was a tradition of our holiday to locate waterfront spots to enjoy a drink, but that plan was dissipating quickly. With such an abundance of patio tables, chairs, and lounge seats; they were empty. Peering into the glass of the restaurants: empty. There was one-single table at the last establishment with four young adults with drinks. When we approached, one employee confirmed they were already closed. It was 6 o clock (18:00)…and the only open establishment was closing. Now thinking about it, everything was closed. Not one store, real estate office, or retail front was open. Everything- just deserted.
Bizarre? Mysterious? Creepy? It felt like we were in this quest to find any kind of lively area. We had to finally backtrack in what was the only thing that somewhat resembled it. We ended up following another couple down an enclosed hallway, almost hidden under a building, lined with mirrors and elegant tile to an elevator with no signage. Very ‘Hotel California’ like as if we may never leave. The elevator rose near possibly what we were searching for. It was this large brick city square between the Monte Carlo Casino, Jardin du Casino, and Le Restaurant Casino Cafe de Paris. It was here we found that anybody that was anyone was at the large patio restaurant in front of casino sipping drinks with company guarded by security agents at the entrance and police wandering around.
It was difficult to ignore the resemblance of a theme park on the Garden. The trees seemed so artificially placed and the flowers did not seem native. There were limited gardens to begin with, but this one and any on the medians between the lanes of the roads all echoed the same fabricated design. In sad honesty, I am unsure if I would have known the difference if they were plastic to uphold the vibrancy and vivacious, counterfeit demeanor.
Being from the US, casinos are attractions first and entertainment second. Places like Las Vegas, there is an enticing draw for tourists to experience the environment and excitement of the casino floors in hope of coaxing a “F.O.M.O.” (fear of missing out) feeling. Monte Carlo, on the other hand, had a different approach. Their reputation and image was priority which was not surprising, but seventeen euros per person to even enter the casino floor seemed steep. The strategy was probably successful in mitigating anyone other than high rollers, but it seemed unusual when just seeing the ‘one arm bandits’ near the entrance appear to be from the ‘90s. It was, also, quiet. No capturing themes, flashing lights, or entertaining music reeling in gamblers. How is a casino actually boring…and why did that one older man look bored at a machine?
At this point, there was a feeling of desperateness for more than dinner, but feeling of life? Our options seemed slim, so we figured to at least check out Le Restaurant Casino Cafe de Paris and damn I was not expecting to be the star of ‘Pretty Woman’ for that solid 6 minutes we were there. The hostess’s eyes examined us head to toe in almost disgust and disbelief of our existence in the building. No reservation-would have thought we had committed a crime even though the elegant ballroom with easily 80 tables had a maximum of 5 of them filled. We were all more than eager to walk out minutes after being granted access to a table passing each employee that almost had a sense of relief of our departure. Sense of relief that our presence would no longer tarnish their status.
How thankful we were when we located a little Italian restaurant, a Steak ‘n Shake, and a market to complete our night in our room with a slice of tiramisu and bottle of cheap wine. Interesting how we landed back at the hotel room before 9 o clock to a lingering ‘The Raven’ motif. I mean there we were back in the chamber hoping the dystopian and shudder-some Monaco would not be able to penetrate. We were both so grateful to sit on the balcony together sipping wine basically already packed eager to escape. We continued to exchange thoughts and discussed our excitement for what was next as usual.
Old Wealth Haven
To keep in mind, we did travel to Monaco on a Sunday which come to find out is more a ‘rest day’ which is not uncommon in many cultures, but there was such disconnect from life. ‘Rest days’ usually include company and shared meals, but this country had me consistently questioning if anyone actually resided there. The largest attractions are, of course, the Grand Prix and large music shows, but I can confidently assume that the prices alone are the criteria for those that visit during those times.
Also, looking at the long history of the country, the economic system was built by wealth and continues to be a rich haven. The country prides itself on non-existent poverty despite most of the work force being people from surrounding countries which makes anyone question who are the actual citizens. Another point that is boasted by Monaco, there is an overwhelming amount of police force compared to citizen ratio. For a country with such a sparse, if any, amount of physical crime, such a sense of fear.
If Monaco is still on your radar, just have adjusted expectations. During the end of March on a Sunday, hotel fare was still upwards to $200 (USD) a night when the same room was priced three to four times the rate other days that same week. It is a country sheltering a vast amount of ‘old wealth’. Other websites have listed the country as ‘an adventure to get to due to limited access’. It’s a warning of itself-to most likely restrict those of limited equity. The train from Nice to Monaco is relatively cheap with walking distance to the city center and the taxi is effortless for a steep fare. For us, 15 hours was more than enough and we could not get on the train fast enough.
“And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted – nevermore”
Edgar Allen Poe
