Today we’re off to Monaco and its capital of Monte Carlo: the latter in search of the famous Arnott’s biscuit factory and hopefully to get some free samples. Surely, they will have a few Tim Tams etc as well. I hadn’t asked Fred about her favourite(s): in fact I don’t think that I even mentioned the major reason for the short journey to Monte Carlo. I recall at one point in the past mentioning this, but what a surprise when we get there for her. A few packets of “Montes” and we could be set up for the next few cups of Americano coffee. 

Monaco, officially Principality of Monaco, (Principaute de Monaco),  sovereign principality located along the Mediterranean Sea in the midst of the resort area of the Côte d’Azur (French Riviera). Nice is nearby 15 km to the west, the Italian border 8 km to the east. Monaco’s tiny territory (about 5 kilometres “long” and about 1 kilometre “wide”), occupies a set of densely clustered hills and a headland that looks southward over the Mediterranean. Pretty uninviting really up in the sizeable mountains which tower over the nearby coastline.  It is really the water and the living conditions that make this place attractive to the mega wealthy.

Monaco is among one the most luxurious tourist resorts in the world and have given it a fame far exceeding its size. Hopefully in this tiny “nation” there is room for this one large biscuit factory. I guess the Office de Tourisme de Monaco will be able to supply us with the opening times and location. Of course being such an important place, it would be down near the Billionaire’s boats in the many marinas in town.

But prior to heading off, I wanted to do some research to see if my former “Principal” status entitled me to any special privileges whilst in the Principaute de Monaco. No harm in asking I thought: could even entitle me to a few cheap or even gratis packets of Monte Carlo biscuits. I would stop at the “red carpet” treatment should that be offered however. 

I sought wisdom on this matter and so enquired of Fred as to what she thought my entitlement would be. “Probably expulsion, or perhaps suspension, at the very least, detention with lots of homework”, was her contribution to this intelligence gathering exercise. I thought she was a little harsh, but perhaps she was lowering my expectations just in case that which would be offered was a little below my current levels. I reminded her that I was someone who was big. Her response ? “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, you’re still big !!”. That raised my self esteem, still big !! Well, perhaps I have under estimated my current status ?

Back to Monaco. Up to the turn of the century, Monaco was one of the tax havens where no tax was charged on individuals and companies. Even though it is not a member of the European Union this situation has now been modified to fit into the European Union’s standards as well as adopt the euro as its currency. However, from what I understand, many still enjoy tax benefits and obviously amasses large volumes of money. Your eyes pop out when you see a Mazda, Toyota etc drive by. The Lamborghini, Bentley, Rolls Royce etc are the common vehicular scene here. I had also noticed that the number plates on these luxury cars were quite personalised and with a Monaco banner: while the vast majority of the common vehicles tended to have French number plates. A bit of class distinction ?

Monaco has a royal family, of which the most famous was the former actress Grace Kelly. Fred remembers her: I’m a little hazy on this however. Not really a movie goer. Currently, Prince Albert III is the Monarch. It was this fella I thought I would seek some clarification on my former “Principalship”. 

“Should I call him Albert or Al ?”, I asked Fred. “Your Highness”, was her response. I waited for her extension, as I thought she was referring to me. In the meantime, I pondered, am I at that level ? Fred inappropriately proceeded to interrupt my thought pattern, “Your Highness, you goose. You don’t use his name”. “Anyway, you won’t get passed the guards at the front gate”, she impolitely indicated. “How insensitive”, I thought. I was part of the Principals’ Union once: a Life Member of same, nonetheless. A person of prominence. Seen in high places (once I climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge) and known to people with big names. I bet you can’t beat knowing Albert Radishslavovicitzie ? See, status is something earned not generated.

Our pathway to potential greatness was a short bus trip from Nice. Fred started our journey in fine style. Holding up two fingers and saying “trios”. The bus driver was somewhat confused until it was clarified we only wanted Deux (two). 

The trip would probably be the most spectacular in the world. The bus winds its way out of Nice and along the coastal suburbs which overlook the sparkling blue Mediterranean Sea. Houses that would be valued at many millions of dollars hug the coastline; clinging to the very steep slopes that run from the nearby mountains. Many tunnels service this road. The trip takes about 40 minutes for the princely sum of €1.5 each way. Fred and I took many pictures of the very clear water and unusual residential pattern, characterised by this section of the Côte d’Azur (French Riviera).

Prior to getting too involved with the many sub issues I have established to this point, I feel obliged to divulge that ultimately I did not pursue by Principalship status in the Principaute of Monaco mainly for international diplomatic reasons. I did so after much thought and personal agony: purely based on my “principles”. Or as Fred as noted on many occasions subsequent to my retirement, the lack thereof. I think she is being somewhat unkind: perhaps truthful, though.

Into Monaco our bus motored. Opulence (not this is not a disease), most obvious. Most noticeably when we exited the bus at the Monte Carlo casino. A building from the 1850s and rather impressive. Outside in prominent positions, were parked many vehicles of note. No typical car here thank you very much. These fellas dressed up in fancy uniforms, would know where the biscuit factory would be. Indeed, we could be now positioned outside of it ? It doesn’t smell like the Arnott’s factory not far from where we live in Sydney. This would be more of a storage than a production point. No need to rush, we can come back to here later. They would have plenty of stock, I’m sure.

We walked around then down to the large marina where there were many boats or different sizes. Nearby we saw some boat brokers and noted that the smaller cruiser types were on the market at about €2m. You could buy a converted tugboat for about €5m. Cheap really when compared to 2 bedroom apartments (“2 pieces” in local language) for €5m. Bigger apartments with views were “anything”. 

I did notice that the gents who got out of their fancy cars, had much younger female partners. Very common. Perhaps they were the daughters ?Also it was a regular situation to see the more fancied vehicles parked in the most obscure places with the occupants standing next to their cars and stopping other vehicles to chat. Looking around to see if there were onlookers. Perhaps, this was how these people had to be seen ? 

Down near the marina, the section of the upcoming Monaco Formula One Grand Prix, was being erected. I had a walk around this, drawing a few mysterious looks as I walked around making an accelerating car noise. Quite a common piece of human behaviour I would have thought. Apparently not even though I had the associated hand movements. I walked back to the local small cathedral that Fred preferred to view. Apparently the Royal family frequent this chapel: perhaps I could have arranged to meet them here and Prince Albert III and I could have swapped Principal type stories ? 

Here a local walking club was congregating. I offered to take their photos for €5 and also as long as they all said “fromage” instead of “cheese”. They obliged with “fromage”: many did transgress with “cheese” however.

Today is a Sunday, and rather noticeably quiet. The social getters seemed to be out however, as the Monaco Yacht Club had a carpark full of expensive cars. As did the other venues that had exclusive memberships.

We walked back to the biscuit factory. Nearby, the Paris Hotel seemed a good place to visit. I was refused entry “ Monsieur, you cannot enter because of the dress code”, the doorman indicated. I questioned why shorts and thongs were not appropriate. Fred dragged me away and said that she warned me about thongs: especially with socks !!  I did have the latter pulled up a little high, though.

I thought that Monaco and especially Monte Carlo would have been fashion centric ? Still, the refusal of entry didn’t bother me: “ let’s go across the road to the biscuit factory”, I indicated to Fred. Here there was no problem. Straight into there: I asked the internal doorman about where I could get my hands on a “packet”. Obviously a mis-communication, his response was this is a casino and nobody gets a “packet” from here. This didn’t concern me, as “montes” loose, taste as good as the ones in the packet (provided that they are not stale of course). 

“Quite a fancy place for a biscuit factory”, I noted to Fred. She wasn’t all that interested, I feel. Come to think of it, she doesn’t eat a lot of biscuits, but she is my wife and isn’t she supposed to take an interest in what I do ?

I had to check my bag into a “cloak room”. Not too many cloaks here I thought. Obviously they didn’t want people filling their bags full of “montes”. Safer this way I thought.  

Fred and I walked into this fancy room where there were a number of slot (poker) machines. “What’s this ?”, I said to Fred. “You dill, this is a Casino in a place called Monte Carlo, nothing to do with biscuits !!”. “Sit down and watch me play this machine”. I was shattered: “crumbs”, I sighed. All this way under this false pretence. Watching Fred was somewhat of an uneventful situation. I can’t say that I was “wrapped” watching her €20 investment. I was stunned. 

There was an inner room for which you had to acquire tickets to enter. This cost €17 each. “You have to pay to enter a casino and to lose money ? Doesn’t make sense. Truly, the first time I had heard of this. The parts of the room however, seemed very artistic and rather heavily decorated. A place for high-rollers no doubt. The casino obviously seemed interested in protecting the privacy of those inside gambling and wanted to keep the average person out.

Monaco hosts many casinos but we didn’t attempt to visit them: nor have we taken the opportunity to visit the ones in Nice.

We made our way back to the bus stop for route 100 back to Nice. This we did without any fuss. Once back in Nice, we looked for a French restaurant for dinner and a house Chablis. Very nice in Nice.

Back to hotel Bristol for recuperation. 

Sa La Vie