Luxury Defined: Monte Carlo, Expensive Cars & the Grand Prix Hairpin

That night, we were ready to experience Monaco! We awoke from a nap after our day trip to Eze and changed into our nice clothes (you can't slum it in this town, so bring your A game...also, there's a dress code to enter the casino). We walked from our hotel through the streets and a beautiful park, where it opened up to this extraordinary building, much of which, when coming upon it from its eastern end, is full of very high end shops, the likes of which I'll never be able to afford.

I left Derek at Café de Paris, which overlooks the entrance to the casino, to enjoy the ambiance and live music (and to gawk at the crazy expensive cars that pass by). He had decided that he'd rather have a 10 Euro brown ale than spend 17 Euro on the entry fee, so I was off to enjoy the interior myself.

I felt super glamorous walking up the red carpet, surrounded by security guards in tuxedos. As I entered the foyer, I tried not to gawk - it was magnificent, from floor to ceiling. You could tell this was no Vegas - everything was real, and it was all expensive.

I entered what I called the "blue room," an unbelievable, larger-than-life crown jewel with a breath-taking bar and roulette tables. Men in tuxedos monitored and managed the games, as well-dressed tourists tossed their Euros their way. This room is called Salle Europe, and the pictures I've seen online don't do it one ounce of justice.

I wandered through to the "red room" which had gambling machines the likes of which were straight out of Vegas. It was odd, seeing such trashy electric lighting and characters in such an opulent space. All of their sounds were *thank the lord* silenced, at least...or if they weren't, I was too entranced to notice them. I later learned the red room is called Salle des Amériques (appropriate, given we ruined good old fashioned betting with cartoon characters and obnoxious music).

Sitting at one of these machines was an older Russian man, who quickly grabbed my attention. We spoke briefly about where I was from, and politics, and the inevitable mention of government interference in our elections. His elevator eyes were painfully noticeable, but I don't think he was concerned about being much of a gentleman. Shortly after I excused myself and wandered off, he entered the "white room" through the red velvet ropes (its literal name is Salle Blanche). I walked over to it and was promptly stopped by two gentlemen guarding the VIP area. I asked if I could look at the ceiling - because I'm absolutely in love with every inch of this place - and they allowed it, but only if I stood no further forward than this specific line in the sand. It was unreal, the white room (well, what I could see of it was, anyway).

The next part, my loving husband says, happened because I'm "hot, and open to new experiences." Also, I believe, because my husband was not, in this case, open to the 'new experience' of paying 17 Euro to see the inside of a building.

I wandered around, trying to take photos very discretely (I'm not very discrete, I was busted by a penguin in the blue room, but I managed to take a few of the ceilings), and finally, when there was nothing new to see but so much to digest (and wanting to make it worth all 17 Euro), I sat down on a seat near the entrance to take it all in.

One of the roulette dealers who didn't have a customer looked my way. He caught my eye, and smiled at me. I could tell he knew I was soaking it all in, and was simultaneously trying to be cool about it. I noticed he kept looking at me, so I went over to his table and asked him how the game was played. We chatted for a bit, then a girl came to play at the table. She wasn't very good, apparently, because she lost 50 Euro in less than 5 minutes, but during her round, he told me his break was in 10 minutes, and if his manager would allow it, would I like a tour? BE COOL, KENDRA. Oh, I suppose that might be nice, if you're willing, but no problem if not. Ten minutes later, the manager clears me for my tour, and he escorts me through the blue room to the red room, and at the threshold of the white room, which I could not get past on my own, the men standing guard moved the rope aside. "Right this way, madame."

And that's how I entered Heaven. The White Room. Oh my gosh, it cannot be described. This room, I learned, is for high rollers only. How high? I have no idea...Alex, my escort, said they "spend a lot of money." There were a handful of people, nearly all men, playing Texas Hold 'Em and Black Jack. Alex asked if I wanted a drink from the fanciest bar I've ever seen - it was like staring at the sun, I couldn't even focus on it. I knew I'd never be able to afford a drink in here, so I declined. He took me through to the terrace, where we could enjoy the view of the sea (it was quite dark, but I could imagine it well). The high rollers looked up at me as I walked through, probably curious about who I was and how I had made all of my money. I've decided, that's what I'm going with.

So, my personal tour came to its end. At least, that's what I thought. It's a giant hotel, but I didn't see anywhere else to go. There was a narrow hallway off of the White Room, which Alex led me down. Would I like to see the high roller area that they open in the winter? Umm, does Bambi wish his mom was still with him?! Show me the money!

We came upon another brilliant, indescribable room with a stained glass ceiling that made me want to faint then and there. Alex was enjoying watching me openly fall apart over the beauty of this place now that I didn't have fellow high rollers to impress. But was it one room? I thought so, one with an impressive reflection. Nope! Two rooms, and they are so alike that you can only really tell because one side's stained glass has the date, 1889, in it, and the other does not (that, or walking through the second room, obviously). These were the Salle Touzet Nord & Sud. This part of the casino is closed off for the summer, so it's just Alex and me. Should I have been worried that I was about to be whisked away and sold a la Taken? Eh. Hot and open to new experiences means you have to chill once in awhile.

Through these rooms was an enormous, inconceivably lovely ballroom, gold and filled with giant chandeliers and delicate ceiling -high paintings. Here, Alex says, they hold grand dinners and special games. This is the VIP room of VIP rooms, where chips run $3,000 Euro apiece. This is Salle Médecin. Holy *%&$.

Off of this salle is another balcony - Alex moves aside the velvet ropes and OPENS THE WALLS automatically to reveal a breathtaking view of the city lights. I ask if I can take a picture of the view, and he tells me yes, I can photograph anywhere where there are not people. So I go nuts. But I'm telling you, as beautiful as my pictures are, they really, truly don't do the place justice. It's so disappointing not to be able to share it. I guess you'll just need to be hot and open to new experiences there yourself!

He tried to show me the last room, Salons Super Privés, but it was locked. This is the room, he said, where the VIP of VIPs OF VIPs gamble. It's so private, not even people who throw down at $3k per chip get in here. We're probably talking heads of state, royalty, cartel leaders...maybe even Oprah. I saw the bar outside of it, though - yet another masterpiece. I'm clearly running out of magical adjectives. Basically, you cannot imagine how beautiful everything in this place is. You just can't.

He walked me back to the Salle Blanche and asked again if I'd like anything to drink. I begged off, realizing suddenly that I had been inside for an hour and a half and that my husband was waiting outside (we had no service for me to tell him I'd be longer), so we said our good byes (I hugged him like a good American, which turned into an awkward hand-shake-cheek kiss-hug...the poor guy). Why I cared to leave that palace for Derek is beyond me, because once I left and tell him where I had been, he said, "you wouldn't have had to have paid for any of those drinks. They wanted you to stay in the high roller area to keep their guests entertained...fall behind, left behind. I could have sat here for another hour before I really would have been worried." Damn it, all! Free drinks with people throwing down millions! I could have snagged a doctor, or something ;-)

In my dazed, overly thrilled, cloud nine head space, I found Derek happily drinking and gushed out this story like middle school me if I had seen JTT on the subway. It had started to sprinkle, and it was getting quite late, so we decided to seek out dinner on the Port Hercule waterfront. Everything closed at midnight, and since we couldn't have our private chef whip us up something on our yacht, we found a grocery store and grabbed a little picnic along with all of the other wasted teenagers up at that hour and walked back to our room to plan our next move in the trip. Surprise! A rail strike planned for the next day sank our plans to visit Cinque Terre, so we decided to be super bendy and get a ferry instead down to Corsica. Who knew?! Turned out to be a brilliant move.

The next morning, we ate at our hotel, Hotel Le Forum, and walked down to the Prince's car collection at the Collection de Voitures Anciennes de S.A.S. le Prince de Monaco. This place had everything - Gulf Porsche, Formula 1 cars, beautiful classic cars, early car prototypes. This was Derek's Monte Carlo, and since he's not writing this post, you can tell that this is about all I'll give you on this stop. I will say, however, that there were over 100 cars, and I was a very big fan of everything made before 1960, of which there were plenty of examples. We saw the car Grace Kelly and the prince were married in, too! We picked up a poster in the gift shop of the Grand Prix as our only souvenir for the trip.

Nearly as important to me as seeing the countries I visit is getting that ink blot proving it in my passport. That booklet is my pride and joy, so we walked in the rain to the tourist office clear across town because I wanted my stamp. And I got it. There's no other way to get the stamp in this country, so you do you, but it was worth it for me.

We were running out of time, and at this point were in full on rain without any jackets or umbrellas, but we HAD to see the famous hairpin turn from the Grand Prix. Nothing is really that far away when the country is only 2.4 miles wide, but then, you always think things are closer than they are when you walk everywhere. We made it to the turn, I snapped pictures quickly of Derek in front of it, and we *attempted to* run back to the hotel, but not before we were entirely soaked through. I lost my sandals a few times because they had no traction and were not practical (I told you, this is Monaco, you dress for millionaire cocktail parties, not for hiking).

Soaking wet, we hauled our suitcases out on the lobby floor and changed in the bathroom. The receptionist graciously lent me a hair dryer (it was for everyone's benefit, believe me) and Derek complained that I took too long to dry my hair (I barely have hair...for a girl, I've got the shortest dry time of anyone I know. He's spoiled). Out of time, we had to get to the train station for our next adventure.

Monaco, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.

Èze, the best kept secret on the coast

Now we begin our trip east along the coast...today, we move our home base to Monaco.

We decided to take the bus instead of the train, because we had heard from friends of ours that had taken the route a few days before that the view was better and it's cheaper. We walked quite a ways to the port - the area here is quite a lot nicer than the area where we stayed near the Promenade. The buildings were better maintained and more foot traffic clearly graces this area. If the beach is your thing, stick to the Promenade, but if we had to do this over, I think we would have spent more time in the area near the port in Viexus Nice.

Bus 100 (Nice - Monaco - Menton) costs 1.50 € and runs every 15 minutes. The trip takes about 30 minutes, and it's breathtaking, especially when the sun is out and the sky is blue. Derek and I were gawking, our jaws on the floor, at the view in front of us. We didn't bother trying to take pictures through the bus window...don't be that person. The only trouble was the squealing any time the bus turned (which it did nearly every minute of the ride) from a lack of grease on the pivotal portion in the mid-section.

When we arrived in Monaco, we got off one stop too late right in front of the famous Monte Carlo casino, so we had a bit of a hike up to our hotel, Le Forum. The hike was less than fun, with our bags in tow, and we had skipped breakfast to make the bus as early as possible. Exercise and lack of pastries is NOT my favorite thing.

We checked our bags in, swapped some things out for a day trip to Eze, and headed down to another bus stop to catch our ride to our much-anticipated day trip destination. While we waited, growing very nervous that we had missed it (we had mis-read the time table to think it was meant to be at our stop when it was scheduled instead to leave its initial location), I ran across the street and bought 2 pain au chocolat and 2 croissants (I'm laughing in my head at any boulangerie or patissierie that thinks their minimum credit card charge of 7 € is going to be a challenge. Yes, there's just the two of us, but we're Americans, so 2 pastries apiece is the minimum we'll require. Oh, that one has chocolate inside AND outside? We'll need 2 of those, too.

The trip to Èze was beautiful ("ehz," not "easy" - don't be such an American). We took the 112 bus, which takes roughly 30 minutes and costs 2 € each, but it was worth the longer ride (the train is more expensive but can get you there is 8 minutes) because the ride there is so flipping worth your time. This isn't LA. There are incredible things to see from this bus, the most impressive of which is the clock tower on the church as you near the town. I died. I wanted to jump from the bus to take pictures but decided that was too touristy of me, so instead I begged to walk back along the road once we were off the bus back a mile and a half or so to the best vantage point from the incoming road. Although Derek would have allowed it, even I knew that was a lot to sacrifice for a picture.

I mean it when I say, this place is unreal. It's best to get here early, because thanks to blogs like these and Instagram and epic stories, this place gets to be loaded with tourists. I was taking pictures of literally everything I saw...little alleyways, courtyards, stair cases, tiny shops whose interiors were all still formed from original stone archways from the villager's homes. Derek found it pleasant, but I was flat out charmed to death. I may have blacked out, and when I came to, I must have taken a thousand pictures.

We had read stories about the famous restaurant in this tiny mountain town - Chateau Eza's chef is world renown, the food is incredible, the views are unmatched, and even though a visit will put a big dent in your pocketbook, some experiences are just worth it. This was one of them. The petite terraces that hang off of the edge of the hotel over nothing are reserved for guests. Tragically, one of the downsides of traveling as flexibly as we do is that failing to plan also means not being surprised when you learn that they don't have any openings (you must make a reservation, which you can do at the hotel's front desk). Disappointed, I pouted my way around the compound until I found a new thing to thrill me anew - the "exotic succulent garden" atop the entire castle foundation at the very tip top of this tiny city.

Who would pay 6 € to see a bunch of cacti in France? We did. You should. Because you're not paying for the succulents. You're paying for the unmatched, 360 degree views of this incredible area on the Cote d'Azur. And, quite honestly, their garden was really stellar. I took another zillion pictures while Derek languished in the direct sun, trying to find ways to hide in the miniature shadows that formed, already starting to fill up with tourists.

Derek was...tired. I mean, he's been chronically tired for the last year, so this shouldn't surprise me, but nothing saps Derek's energy faster than lacking water and direct sun. He's like a basil plant. Immediate feedback if propped up with sustenance (which includes not waiting for me to take my ninetieth photo of a doorway). We walked out of the city into a tiny generic restaurant called Le Pinocchio, where overpriced drinks (with caffeine) brought Derek back to life.

Right inside the city is a giant scent laboratory and manufacturing plant, Parfumerie Fragonard. We decided now was as good a time as any to check it out, so we asked to join their next tour in English (it's free). We learned many interesting things, including that the French have an academy for nose palates (this does not surprise me). I learned that I'm mad competitive at the interactive program they provided to match aromas with the plants (like, I cared way too much about being right...I should see someone about this when I get back). Citrus is not orange blossom! And I know the difference! BE IMPRESSED.

They took us through the areas where they concentrate the perfume, then on to the bottling area, and finally landed us in the shop where we smelled their many variants for this season. Ile de amour was the best, though they were all lovely. Now we know why real perfume costs an arm and a leg. I considered buying some for someone, but as I said in an earlier post, we don't buy things for people. We love them, yes, but it just doesn't work for us. Even I knew my neck's ability to exude sex appeal wasn't worth what this costs. One day, we'll stop feeling like we need to hoard our pennies, but today is not that day.

JUST KIDDING! Today IS that day! Because what happened next was how we know that we're not cheap, we're just cheap about anything that isn't food or direct travel related. While up in Eze, we had seen over the cliffs below these manicured gardens and super fancy cars and very private areas, and we could not figure out how to get into them. One lawn had a fountain and animal statues, another a giant chess set. Over the parked cars that are worth more than my life (at least to a judge) was a green and gold night on a horse. This place isn't messing around. Then, we cracked the code. Chevre d’Or, the five star hotel where rooms are roughly a grand a night, serves lunch, outside, on the grandest balcony I've seen the world over. It means 'golden goat' in French, but what it really translates to in reality is fanciness.

We ducked into the hotel to ask about lunch, accidentally stumbling into their bar area. It was around 2:30, and even then they made it sound like they may not have an opening, so as we were waiting with the receptionist, considering to cut and run to at least enjoy the bar, she tells us, right this way! We have a table ready. But we personally weren't ready for what we were going to see.

They led us down and around and I don't know how or where we got to the terrace, but we were walking along, passing a glittering pool and incredible gardens and then we're given a spot right on the railings with the most incredible view. I nearly cried. And then we spent like we belonged there. Wine, bottled water, dessert - Derek ordered pizza with edible gold leaf on it! I had the bass with ratatouille (ha! peasant dish in this place! the nerve). When a wasp came to hover over my food, the waiter came with an electric wand to remove her from my presence.

I can't deal. I wander around with the biggest damned grin on my face, trying (and failing) to look like this is my every day life, that I'm not impressed. I head down to the other layers of balconies (for more pictures and to sunbathe between courses, naturally) to see someone with a super secluded balcony being filmed by an actual camera crew. Guys, this is the kind of place where famous people go to get away from non-famous people. How is this my life right now?!

We dragged our feet and stayed at the restaurant as long as we could manage before we slowly exited (with grace, no one had to drag me...but only because there were incredible sights to see on the way out through the gardens). We took a peek inside the church, the main focal point of the town, and ducked into a shop to buy some lavender and soap for some people we knew would actually appreciate it to the right level. 

Back to the bus. I can't stop smiling. My camera memory is bursting. And Derek is caffeinated and equally floored that this was our day. This place is the stuff of dreams.

In Monaco, we checked into our hotel and decided to catch a nap before rallying for an evening in this opulent town.