Life in Monte-Carlo

“Are you not getting bored of living around Monaco area, ever so chaotic or desert, with the same places and people and not much to do? It looks like Disneyland, people are fake and it’s way too perfect, far from real life.”

Sorry, who said I was looking for real life? I prefer walking on dreams and admire objective, flawless beauty.

And then, for someone preaching a male chauvinist point of view of life, where women must always be well kept and dedicated to philanthropy, art and beauty, it’s very comprehensible why Monte-Carlo is the perfect heaven to retire.

The roles here are always clear, as anybody living in the area can clearly afford it and is expected to be a gentlemen.

Women are either shameless escorts, wives or fiancées to somebody rich, riches of family–which means daddy is the one paying their houses. A man is always behind the choice and opportunity of living in the area. I am lucky enough to admit that I owe this lifestyle to my father and the relationships I entangled here which allowed my survival and sparkling around in the most exclusive events. I happened to chose to make a point of remaining, and the falling in love for this magic place happened at age 1, the first time I was brought into the bubble.

I could breath Grace Kelly and the presence of true princes, and I would be pushed to learn languages in order to be ready for more princes as possible, as matters of communications are not what a princess herself should endure.

It saddens me that little girls dream no longer the Prince Charming… Considering that every man is a potential one if making one of him is a goal in life. (But finding proper ones to educate not that much is waaaay easier in Monaco.)

It’s a non hypocritical place: when you see a beautiful young woman driving a Bentley you never think she gained it by hard work; you think instead that she hit the right lottery man.

It’s so male chauvinist, beautiful, eventful and decadent.

Every season has its pro, making the city always changing. Spring and summer are considered to be the seasons, since all the main events-from the Rolex master series to the Grand Prix, ending in all the concerts at the sporting and the Yacht Show–take place there. The cons is evident, as being it the place to be, lots of people flow in suffocating the residents, who find very little calm even spending big amounts expecting a calm place in a beach. (Tourists who come here to spend it all and pretend to have while they have nothing to hit on you are also common. You must always ask and investigate, with the time you’ll recognize cheap people anyway.) No beach is calm. The solution is escaping out, more likely to Italy. Or get a villa or a boat, or again be bohemian and find a rock. There is a solution to enjoy also in summer, and I never missed the calm as I find most of the other calm places boring and uneventful, lacking this rich tourism.

In fact, autumn and winter are, in my opinion, the best seasons. You don’t get wrong, you meet mostly residents. There are events and places of all sorts to go to eat or drink, you find taxis in an easier way, and in the port for three months there are several kinds of animations between Tivoli and the Christmas village. The calm month is really just one: February. And yet I don’t think it’s enough to cover the overall craze…

It’s like a drug, I can’t get enough of Monaco and I couldn’t hope for a better place to raise my daughter. It simply teaches you the real world, where to fulfill your dreams you must fight because everything has a price.

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