Side Trips: Nice and Monaco

 

Commemorating the whole family piling into the Fiat Cinquecento for a Sunday at the beach in Nice.

I'm not a crowds person, which might make Paris an odd choice as a place to live. But unlike, say, Pier 39 in San Francisco, there's no question in my mind that the tourists who come to Paris to enjoy the food, culture and history are making a good decision--although for the life of me I can't fathom why people would wait for hours to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa. From what I can tell, it's an undersized portrait that no one but Leonardo collectors and art aficionados cared about until newspapers and magazines sensationalized its 1911 theft by a Louvre employee. There were other copies in existence before then, and anyone who wants to appreciate the painting's composition and craftsmanship would do better with a Taschen coffee table book. I myself vastly prefer Mona Gorilla, in any case. 

My love of the ocean also makes landlocked Paris a strange base of operations--until you consider that I don't really lay on beaches in the sun. All of which means that enjoying the ocean in France without dealing with crowded beach scenes meant a trip to Nice in January. Nice is a quintessential mediterranean summer getaway. Which is why even in January, the town felt, well, mediterranean. Both the port and the main beach seem to function as the town center--or at least the place to funnel the hordes. The town has been destroyed by siege a few times, so what remains of the "older" architecture is mainly from the 19th century and painted in oranges, pinks and yellows. From the Parc de la Colline du Château--the site of a military citadel destroyed in 1705 on the order of the Sun King as a middle finger to the Duke of Savoy--you can see the Mediterranean sea, the red-tiled roofs (why isn't it rooves?) of the town and the snow-capped French Alps in the distance.

Views from the Parc de la Colline du Château.

The Maison Tordo, a building of no discernible renown, but for some reason people seem attracted to it.

Overall, Nice is a lovely town with great restaurants, a long seaside promenade, and weather that permits a good outside lifestyle. But the real surprise of the trip was Monaco, which is connected to Nice by a 20 minute train ride right along the shores of the Mediterranean. The views of the sea and crashing surf from the train window alone were worth the 8 euro round trip ticket. What I expected from Monaco was gaudy excess and luxury retail--which it had, but in small, concentrated enough doses that it could be avoided or ignored. What we found instead was a sleepy town (not quaint--it does have the world's highest GDP per capita, after all) that was ideal for just whiling away the day.

Like all tourists to Monaco, we started at the Casino de Monte-Carlo, built in the 1870s. Gambling does not begin until 2 pm, so before that time visitors are allowed inside without adhering to the strict dress code of coat and tie for men--though I was asked to remove my hat before entering, which I intended to do anyway, but appreciated this small bit of moneyed formality. Since leaving the Army, the only other indoor places where I instinctually remove my hat are churches. No photos were allowed inside the Casino and the gambling rooms were off-limits. The main lobby had a grand glamour to it, typical of the belle époque style. Lots of marble and rococo touches, but on close inspection, you could see some signs of age (also typical of buildings from the belle époque era). It put me in mind of the Union Trust Bank building on Market Street or the Fairmont hotel in San Francisco. The sound system was softly playing "You Only Live Twice" by Nancy Sinatra, just to let guests know that the house was happy to indulge any fantasies they attached to the process of losing their money.

Our selfie at the Sky Mirror (1999) in front of the Casino de Monte-Carlo.

What I really liked about Monaco, though, was for a city of tremendous wealth, it had a very playful, even laid-back, atmosphere. This showed most strongly in the public sculptures scattered throughout the town, an art initiative begun under Prince Rainier III (who reigned from 1949 to 2005). You sort of wander from piece to piece on the cliffside stroll over the Mediterranean or though the botanical gardens from the Jardin des Pêcheurs to the Musée Oceanographique, and right up to the Prince's residence.

Also, as a casual day tourist, I also never got the feeling of being shaken down by the restaurants and cafés--unlike in, say, Switzerland, where they all but hang you by your shoes until every last pfennig drops from your pocket, and then go after the fillings in your teeth with a rusty pair of pliers (metaphorically, of course; they don't actually have pfennigs in Switzerland). Maybe that's an upside of visiting a lesser tax haven--they just try harder.

A detail from the exterior of the Casino de Monte-Carlo.

Argentinian Formula One legend Juan Manuel Fangio and his Mercedes Benz W196.

Anna Chromy's "Le Manteau de la Conscience" (2009) awaits you in the Jardin des Pêcheurs. When you close your eyes, you will still see it.