08/09/2026Phil’s Travels – Monaco (09.26)
Phil’s Travels – Monaco (09.26)
On boarding our flight there was an immediate feeling that we were heading to one of the world’s wealthiest destinations. Over half the aircraft was configured to Business Class and it was full.
Nice Côte d’Azur Airport lived up to the chaos I had predicted back in January 2026, when I passed through and had to queue for over 90 minutes at passport control with my UK passport – and that was only one plane load. This time, there were many plane loads and the queue was monumental. The chaos was made worse by poor signage for EU passport holders and no staff to assist with people flow management. Fortunately, we all hold EU passports and I eventually figured out that we could dodge the monumental queue by jumping over Tensabarriers and weaving our way around the crowded corridors, crisscrossing the monumental queue until we final made it to the EU passport counters. The lack of organisation and staff to assist was simply lamentable. I do not know how long the non-EU passport holders waited from our flight, but I would not be surprised if it took half a day (say 4+ hours) to clear the passport checkers.
Taxis and helicopters from Nice Airport to Monaco cost more than the average palace on the Côte d’Azur, so we tried to be economical and took the train. Nice Saint-Augustin Station, which services Nice Côte d’Azur Airport was a shack, but the lady behind the counter was very helpful. The train was cheap (€18 for four, one-way) but the low fare clearly meant the washing of the train’s windows was an underfunded affair. Like the commuter trains of NYC, we could barely see the sun and stunning coastline through the grime encrusted glass.
As a first impression for any tourist new to the region, these first impressions were not the best. Maybe the experience is better for the wealthy and they skip all the issues. Different passport checks perhaps? Helicopter quicker and slicker?
In Monaco it became clear that public transport was somewhat uncoordinated with private transport. I had to use an old-style telephone, from the last millennium, to call, repeatedly, for a taxi. The fare for a three-minute drive to our Airbnb in Beaulieu? A staggering €28.
The apartment was fine for the price (simple, worn in places, but very clean) and the view was priceless.
Monaco is hilly. Beaulieu is mountainous. Monaco has some escalators and lifts. Beaulieu invented the escalator. Our apartment was pretty high up in Beaulieu and fortunately close to the Escaliers du Riviera – a vertiginous suite of steps and escalators that link the Monaco border to our cliffside eyrie above.
During our stay we walked the F1 track in reverse (stopped a while for a spell of hypercar spotting at Loews Hairpin), dined on the beach and visited the stunning Hotel de Paris (where we rubbed the right knee of Louis XIV’s horse) and the majestic Hermitage. We saw the new Monaco extension but did not walk on it. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. Monaco is even more expensive post-C19 and it was already an expensive place. A taxi anywhere within the Principality or its environs was a fixed €25. A bottle of filtered tap water was €7 and a Coke Zero in a hotel was €14. Wow!
Fortunately, there were some cheaper things for us to do. The local Boulangerie Artisanale baked a great croissant and their coffee was good. We walked around Monaco Ville and visited the Palais Princier for a small fee, with the bonus of lots of Princess Grace displays (crammed into the few visitable state rooms, poorly organised and muddled, and no captions in English for the poor international tourist to read and appreciate all the details).
At the tender age of 26 and after 11 movies, Grace Kelly retired and moved to Monaco in 1956 to marry her prince. Hence the principality was celebrating the 70th anniversary of this fairy tale union. The cathedral was free to enter and we paid homage at the celebrated graves.
As our sejour wended its way to a conclusion, we could feel the mood of the place change. Our last day was the first day of a major insurance conference and the city was rapidly filling with men in suits and the testosterone was hitting new highs.
On our final day we just had to test the theory that rubbing Louis XIV’s horse was a lucky thing to do by visiting the Casino de Monte Carlo. The rules of the casino took some working out though. The fee we paid to enter included a paper voucher worth €10. This could be redeemed within the casino for gambling or a drink. However, such vouchers could not be used at the tables nor redeemed for chips at the Caisse. After a while, someone told us what we could use them for. They only work in the slot machines. To gamble at the tables you had to pay at the Caisse and be given chips. However, our small denomination chips could not be used on the small tables. We had to go to the big tables. So, after many tours of the casino floor, we finally placed our chips and lost the lot at roulette. We also finally fed our vouchers into machines and won! We beat the house, no doubt thanks to the lucky horse.
For some reason our taxi from Larvotto to the railway station was only €18 (I don’t think I will ever understand prices in Monaco) and our train back was more expensive for fewer people (all of €21). Why do the French make life so complicated? The train was packed and at Nice St Augustin we discovered this key transport hub had only one exit and only one lift. Very poor transport coordination again. And there was no shuttle from station to terminal. We had to lug our luggage exposed to the elements half a click to make the connection between modes of transport.
The airport departures was busy, with flights all around Europe and as far as Yerevan and Chisinau. We left with a short delay and arrived on time. We caught an Uber home and realised that although transport coordination is better in the UK, Heathrow could still improve – the Uber pick-up area at T5 was a jumble of cars and people, with no coordination, plenty of honking and lots of wasted time.
Concluding thoughts. It is clear than the Côte d’Azur and Monaco are designed for the rich, not the regular chap. London public transport is the best in class. The Monte Carlo Bay Hotel lobby is to be avoided – more mosquitoes than anywhere else in Monaco. And Mr Bond must have been in town (his space-age Aston was right outside the Hotel de Paris, naturally).
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