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Among the less engaging motion blur features along the busy autoroute between Nice and Menton is the exit sign to Monaco; blink and you’ll miss not merely a town or village but a whole country. It’s so easily done that there must be many people who never quite get around to taking a peep at ‘Monte’. I know because I was one of them - but today I finally summon up the will to leave the A8, swoop down on the Moyenne Corniche and find out for myself what all the fuss is about. First impressions are of all the planning controls along the entire Mediterranean coastline having been suddenly relaxed in one tiny spot, with Hong-Kong or Manhattan having dropped in for a change of scenery. In fact, not just Monte Carlo but the whole of Monaco is all shoe-horned into a total area of less than three-quarters of one square mile.

By the time I reach the port area everything looks so instantly familiar that I can’t resist doing a lap what for one glorious June weekend becomes the world’s most famous F1 Grand Prix circuit. Along the way I pass my hotel, a listed Belle-Époque historic monument which was originally English-owned. The Hermitage is still the stuff of dreams but is now in the hands of the Société des Bains de Mer, which also has the Hotel de Paris, the Café de Paris, the Opera House, Monte Carlo Country Club, both Summer and Winter Sporting Clubs, etc… you name it. After a check-in process during which I’m welcomed like a returning regular (if only) I’m conducted towards my apartment, an unforgettable journey in itself through genuinely palatial surroundings including the famous Jardin d’Hiver, a kind of atrium created in Art-Nouveau stained glass and wrought iron by none other than Gustav Eiffel. When we eventually arrive it’s hard to say which is more extraordinary - the apartment itself or the jaw-dropping views from its private balcony across the world’s most glamorous port (complete with Royal yacht) and out to the Mediterranean. It doesn’t take long to realise that if you were to spend your whole stay right here, glued to the Royal box, then you’d have already got exactly what you came for, and I have no doubt that plenty of guests must do exactly that.

To do so, of course, you’d have to have seen it all before. So I’m soon outside once again, standing in nearby Place du Casino and feeling as though I’ve just stumbled onto a film set from The Prisoner. The immaculately-manicured square, festooned with white flagpoles and framed on three sides by more exuberantly-styled Belle-Époque architecture creates a considerable sense of unreality. To my left is the imposing façade of the Hotel de Paris, looking much as it must have done when it hosted the fabulous Hollywood-style wedding of Errol Flynn. This place has seen it all, and these days its 5-star luxury reputation is matched by that of its Restaurant Louis XV, whose Chef Alain Ducasse has received no fewer than three Michelin stars for his work here. But there’s more. To accompany the ultimate meal there is, naturally, the ultimate wine-list, featuring selections from the vast Cave Centrale, which also serves the Hotel Hermitage and all the other SBM properties, and can claim to be the most important hotel/restaurant cellar in the world. Some 250,000 bottles (30,000 of them over thirty years old) repose on 1km or so of racks. “Cognac, Monsieur? Of course - we have them from 1800 onwards...”

Trying not to dwell on how rapidly one might thereby hand back the entire proceeds from a successful evening at the gaming tables which the Hotel is so ideally-placed to celebrate, I turn my attention to the legendary Casino. Opened in 1863, Europe’s first such establishment was predominantly the work of Charles Garnier (who also styled the Opéra de Paris), while the list of names of those responsible for later enlargements and embellishments reads like a contemporary architectural Who’s Who. The results, both inside and out, is best described as eclectic, embracing everything from French Art Nouveau to Paladian neo-classical, via Moorish and a hint or two of Venetian Gothic. That it succeeds aesthetically while looking like nothing else you’ve ever seen is no mean achievement. As regards what goes on inside (“Welcome back, Mr Bond...”), suffice it to say that it’s all terribly civilised and if you’re looking for a more American interpretation then perhaps you might instead try the Sun Casino or the nearby Café de Paris.

Behind the Casino is the Opéra de Monte Carlo, added in appropriately grandiose style by Garnier in 1879. I can’t help wondering what the architect would have made of the modern Conference Centre and Auditorium set below the Casino terraces, its vast flat roof emblazoned with a forceful geometrical work by Vasarely and overlooking la Grande Bleue. After photographing this assertive feature I return to the Place du Casino, intending to record the scene there. Within seconds of my arrival I’m face to face with an immaculately-attired police officer. Monaco is distinctly jumpy about its public image and if you’re not carrying an official permit then professional photographic equipment is about as welcome as a missile-launcher. Fortunately I’ve come prepared, and the officer is sufficiently satisfied to extend me the formal salute normally reserved for Monegasque residents and French Nationals. Suitably flattered, I complete my work and pass through the palms, ornamental shrubs, fountains and contemporary sculptures in the Casino Gardens, en route for the town proper.

It’s easier said than done. Anyone searching for the best of what the material world has to offer won’t have too far to look, with top designer names like Cartier, Chanel, Hermès, etc., displayed with obvious pride above their respective minimalist-chic boutiques. The expected financial institutions are there too, if markedly less obviously. Paradoxically, it’s the daily essentials which are harder to find. In fact, more mundane activities like everyday shopping for basics are hidden discretely from view in underground commercial complexes or else sited in the closest thing to an out of town location Monaco can come up with. Don’t tell anyone, but the Principality has its very own Ecomarché, out near the Jardins-Exotiques, plus a Carrefour tucked away in the Centre-Commercial de Fontvieille. In marked contrast to sightseeing, shopping is actually easier with a car, and Fontvieille’s underground car park is something else, hewn out of the rocky headland like so many holes in a Swiss cheese; come here in search of grub and you end up feeling like one.

All this obsessive cleanliness has its effect. Monte-Carlo, superficially at least, is very clean. It has to be. Anywhere else the potentially claustrophobic concentration of high-rise apartment blocks (growing visibly denser and ever higher by the day) overlooked by an even higher coastal massif which is itself gradually being gnawed into by insatiable developers, would be unthinkable. What makes it all bearable (apart from an annual average of over 300 sunny days) is the ever-present Mediterranean, a vast blue seascape offering an eternal spontaneous escape-route. You don’t buy a place here to get views of Monaco - it’s the view from it which attracts the top people.

At nightfall the ambience of Place du Casino becomes if anything less credible, with gardens skilfully illuminated, fountains sparkling and the Casino and its companions light up like a picture from a fairytale. Faced with this, there’s only one thing left to say: when you wish upon a star, you could well end up here.

Monaco Government Tourist & Convention Office
3-18 Chelsea Garden Market, Chelsea Harbour, London SW10 0XE
www.visitmonaco.com/
Société des Bains de Mer: www.montecarloresort.com

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