Monaco: A Small Nation Where Size Matters
Written by Hash Rifai
An interesting fact about the sliver of land that is the Principality of Monaco: its ruling family, the Grimaldis, are the longest-reigning monarchs in Europe. An impressive feat, you might think, given that the royals of other small European nations have receded into the gossip columns of Hola! magazine. Less impressive however when you realise that the land they preside over is no larger than a cocktail napkin. But, what the Grimaldis lack for in size, they make up for with exceptional business acumen.
The Grimaldis, a family of tenacious Italians who made a business model out of survival, seized the French off-cut in the 13th century. It was a crafty and ambitious ploy by François Grimaldi who was aptly nicknamed “The Cunning.” He, along with his men, approached the Fortress of Monaco dressed modestly as Franciscan monks. The guards, believing them to be harmless friars seeking shelter, welcomed them into the fortress and once inside, François and his men threw off their garbs, brandished their swords and overpowered the Ghibelline garrison, claiming Monaco in the name of the Grimaldi family.
By the 1920s, Monaco drew Russians dispossessed by revolution, Englishmen dispossessed by divorce, and Americans who possessed too little culture. And lest we forget the American actress Grace Kelly, who is widely credited with bringing significant global attention and glamour to Le Rocher through her marriage to Prince Ranier III. The Grimaldis prove that hereditary rule is more lasting than democracy, at least when lubricated by baccarat. The royal coffers, not unlike those of the Corleones, are funded with money from the city’s main attraction, the Casino de Monte-Carlo. It was designed, like all successful religious institutions, to separate the faithful from their money with as much ceremony as possible, and as with any casino, it’s the house that always wins.
But let us take a step down from our moral high ground for just a moment, for it must be said: Monaco is a success. In an age when most nations fail to balance budgets, control borders, or inspire loyalty, this small parcel of land has managed to do all three, all while providing its residents with sunshine, fiscal anonymity, and a glamorous weekend in the annual social calendar. Cynics may laugh at its reputation, but the yachts keep docking, the champagne keeps pouring, and Monaco continues to be a destination desired by many.
Monaco attracts the motley crew of characters one expects to find in a place where wealth shouts: Arab royalty, oligarchs, gangsters from the Caucasus, money managers, and escorts from the Eastern Bloc to service them all. The French arrive for the day, half sneering, half envious, while the English retire here with well-rehearsed monologues about why paying tax is bad. The Monegasque nationals, of whom there are very few (the passport is notoriously difficult to obtain and applications must be approved personally by the Prince) are, in stark contrast, a discreet bunch. They navigate the tight streets of Monaco in humble hatchbacks, tutting at the gridlocked traffic that grinds many of its roads to a standstill. The women carry simple canvas tote bags, absent of any logos, and the men dress with sprezzatura. The only signs of wealth are the expensive and sometimes rare watches that adorn their wrists.
So then, what is there to do in Monaco if your net worth is bloated by pillaged national resources? Plenty. One can fritter away municipal budgets at the poker table, and chase it down with a night out at Jimmy’z (yes, with a z) where the music is good and the women expensive. Or, if you are a virtuous soul and prefer a night with a little less octane, I highly recommend a quiet dinner at Em Sherif, a Lebanese restaurant at the Hotel de Paris where the food is excellent and views from the terrace, stunning. I often find myself reminiscing about their fattoush salad - fresh, crunchy and heavy on the pomegranate.
For those whose wallets are light and overdrafts deep, despair not, for you too can enjoy Monaco. The city is a museum of wealth, provided you enjoy observing those who have it. One may spend an evening walking along the harbour, marvelling at the length and girth of the yachts, or sit at a café and spend a regretful amount of euros on an espresso while watching the parade of plastic surgery mishaps, Loro Piana loafers, and Filipino nannies stroll past. For those whose holidays must include a hike, a climb up to the Palace Rock at dusk is worth it for a view of the city glittering against the azure waters of the Mediterranean.
The true attraction of Monaco is Monaco itself. And if Paris is the capital of love, Rome the capital of history, and Washington the capital of hypocrisy, then Monaco is the capital of unapologetic wealth. And that is exactly its charm. It is a place without depth, but also without shame. An honest virtue? I’ll let you decide.