“Pickpocket! Pickpocket!” shouted one of the Nice Train station staff members, pointing at two women who were now leaving the platform.
Shit I thought to myself. I was trying to squeeze onto the train for Monaco and it turned out I was right next to these two thieves the whole time. I check for my passport - still there; then for my wallet and phone - also still there. Thank God.
I manage to get to another door on the train and squeeze in. The two carriage train to Ventigmilia, via Monaco Monte-Carlo is not big enough for us all and it feels more like a London tube at rush hour than 11am on a Thursday on the Riviera Railway.
Facing the window, I immediately decide that the French Riviera is one of the most beautiful spots in Europe, if not the world. We pass through the towns of Villefranche, Beaulieu, Eze, and Cap d’Ail. Each with beautiful white sand beaches and light blue water. Out in the sea there are people paddle boarding and kayaking. It’s still February but the sun is out and it’s a beautiful day.
It’s only a few stops and, within 25 minutes, I am in the territory of the Principality of Monaco, a new country for me. Immediately I feel out of place. As I walk down the first road I come across, it’s clear that there is serious wealth in this micro-state. I text Layla saying even the pigeons look posh here.
Designer clothing seemed to be the norm amongst various pedestrians. If you weren’t on the bus, you were driving a super car and as I made my way to try and find some Monganesque food I had read about, I couldn’t help but feel the whole place was soulless.
Monaco is very evidently a rich-person’s playground. It felt like I was walking on a 3D version of those carpets you used to get when you were younger, with the roads and you’d drive your toy cars around it. Although I haven’t been to Dubai, it felt like how that might feel except with a few more historical buildings thrown in.
I never did find the Monganesque food and after an hour or so of mindlessly wandering around, coming across only designer shops and pretentious people, I thought “sod this” and caught the next train out.
Nice is far nicer anyway.
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