We had rushed out of our hotel in Nice to make it to the station in time. In our haste we had left our passports in the room. I sat on the train for the 20 minute journey feeling annoyed with myself. Would I regret this? We were entering another country after all. Surely Monaco would not have strict border controls in place that would send us back to our hotel?

We needn’t have worried. Getting off the train in Monaco is much like any other station on the French railway system. Within a few moments of emerging from the station’s underground tunnels we were at the waterfront, surrounded by some of the world’s largest, swankiest yachts.

Monaco is one of the small group of six European principalities and on the face of it has no reason to be a stand-alone nation. It is the world’s second smallest country (after Vatican City), stretching less than two miles from end to end and extending inland only half a mile from its picturesque shoreline. Yet its independence from its only neighbour France has been recognised for 150 years, while the ruling Grimaldi family have held sway in Monaco for over 700 years.

But enough of the facts; what is there to do or see as a visitor to Monaco? There are probably three distinct areas of the principality to explore, and all three can comfortably be experienced in the same day.

The Old City

High on a hill overlooking the harbour is Monaco-Ville, the old part of town. Upon reaching the top of the hill (a brisk 10-15 minute walk from the road below) the first building to greet the visitor is the Palais Princier. It is worth a look inside to see the many gifts that the leader of a nation receives from others, even when that nation is the size of a small town elsewhere. An audio-guide is included in the ticket and serves the purpose more of pushing people through the palace at lightning speed than actually providing useful information.

We chanced upon the changing of the guard which takes places each day at 11:55. If you’re in Monaco and struggling to make it up to the palace to see this in time, relax. You won’t miss much despite the huge crowds of tourists that gather for the spectacle.

The biggest draw for many to Monaco is the legend of Grace Kelly, the actress turned princess who died in a car crash at the age of 52. Her pictures are found throughout the palace and her tomb in the nearby cathedral attracts a steady crowd. When we visited the cathedral we met a group of bemused American folks on a cruise excursion who had passed the small row of tombs but hadn’t worked out which one belonged to the late princess, despite only one being adorned with flowers.

The old town is perfect for a stroll, especially as the narrow streets offer shady relief from the midday heat. The large Oceanographic museum, once managed by Jacques Cousteau, is the other major attraction in the old town. Even if you don’t choose to venture inside it’s worth a wander down the adjacent steps to the cliff top to see the building’s impressive sea-facing facade.

Monte Carlo

Famous for its casino, this part of Monaco is busy with tourists catching a glimpse of a lifestyle of which most can only dream. Open-top sports cars cruise past the grand casino building and down to the waterfront and the line of yachts.

There is a €10 charge to enter the casino. Most visitors, ourselves included, opt instead to wander into the lobby and enjoy the ornate decor in this historic building which has served as a glamorous location to many a movie.

Alongside the casino is the hairpin section of the Grand Prix circuit that covers most of the territory of Monaco. Once a year the F1 show comes to town and the place is overrun with sports fans. Don’t even try visiting Monaco at that time unless you’re here specifically for the race.

Waterfront

Nowhere in Monaco is more than a few minutes walk from the sea, and as coastlines go this one is very pleasant. Popular sandy beaches are nestled between the upmarket hotels while hundreds of posh boats bob in the perfectly clear waters of this rich man’s paradise.

There are plenty of good food options along the waterfront, once you acclimatise to the astronomical cost of everything in this part of the world. A tagliatelle carbonara and soft drink cost us €20 in one of the more humble establishments. Perhaps visitors need to suspend reality and enter a make-believe world where they own a yacht and a sportscar and can afford anything on offer (another lobster s’il vous plait!)

So is Monaco worthy of a special visit? If you’re a motor-racing fan or gambler with a special interest in the casino, I guess those are reasons alone to make a visit worthwhile. Likewise for those who are on a mission to visit every country in Europe; a stop in Monaco is compulsory. It’s an easy day trip from Nice or Cannes and the return train fare is a little over €5. As a people watching location it is also a good place to sit on a wall and watch the strange world of the rich and not-so-rich play out in front of you. But for most tourists it will remain a day trip from elsewhere rather than a destination in its own right.

Monaco: another day, another country is a post from: 501 Places

First it was the Asian guy. He was sitting at the table next to us when we arrived and had just polished off his plate of whatever it was. Although he’d done a good job there was enough left to see that it was probably a good choice. After exchanging greetings (it’s the done thing in these parts apparently), I inquired how his dinner was. “Delicious!” he replied enthusiastically. When I asked him what he’d ordered, he confessed that he had no idea; he’d just asked the waiter to bring whatever it was the people next to him were eating.

On the other side of us a young couple were finishing off their main course. He, French; she, Chinese. Students we assumed, they were deep in conversation as they sat over their empty plates. Were they a couple? It was hard to tell. A lot of students hang out together and share a meal while pondering their assignments or discussing the latest school gossip. He was animated and spoke most of the time. She sat back in her chair, listening attentively and chipping in with a few words and a smile from time to time. It was only as they sat over their coffees and they reached across and held hands that we knew.

They soon left wishing us good night and their table was quickly wiped clean before another couple took their place. Slightly older, and this time clearly together. She was Indian, maybe in her late twenties; he looked Arabic, around the same age and slightly taller than her. This time it was she who spoke a lot more; she was clearly excited about something and he nodded with a smile as she talked. Frequent phone calls interrupted her in her flow and she took each one, speaking with the same bright and smiling tone that she shared with her partner. When he went to the loo she immediately called someone, eager to share her news, whatever it was. And then we found out too, as she pulled out a set of scans from her bag and they passed the images between them, their pride at their upcoming parenthood instantly evident.

Finally, as we were finishing our main course at the table where the Asian man had sat two young men sat down. In their twenties, they sat next to one another, rather than opposite as was the convention here. They fell deep into conversation immediately, only to be interrupted when I handed them a carafe of water that the waiter had brought over. They smiled, we exchanged a joke and then they fell back into their discussion.

Eventually we got up from the table, wished ‘Bonne nuit’ to our neighbouring diners and left them to enjoy their meals away from the curious eyes of these British tourists in their midst.

A night at Chez Papa, Paris is a post from: 501 Places

We spent yesterday walking the streets of Paris and visiting the famous spots we’ve had the pleasure to see many times before. Paris is choc-full of instantly recognisable monuments and symbols, and on a sunny day is a photographer’s dream.

Add to the mix tens of thousands of tourists on any one day and you get the inevitable: people stopping at every street corner, by every fountain and in front of every building to strike another pose and add yet another image to their over-burdened data cards.

Having observed with interest the lengths (and in some cases the depths) to which people will go to create that memorable photo, I was drawn to photograph those people who were taking the photos. Here’s a little selection of my own pictures, giving a snapshot of the photographers out on the Paris streets yesterday.

Did they really put these pillars there for this? Yes, I think they did

See a statue with a strange expression? Only one thing to do!

The sly photographer trying not to get caught out... look behind you!

One flying Parisian wasn't too impressed with this photographer

Back a bit...

By the Arc de Triomphe, the traditional Japanese pose

At the Trocadero, where the best poses were on display

That old pose again

The equivalent of the Leaning Tower 'push'

Another classic pose

So that's what those pillars are for...

'Quick, Notre Dame on your right, three o'clock!'

Start 'em young - some Russian kids have better gear than most adults

Paris through other people’s lenses: Photos of people taking photos is a post from: 501 Places

I’d had a bad day. And to top it off, here I was in a pastel pink Parisian hotel room, complete with a frilly lamp and that textured wallpaper that a previous generation had considered the height of interior design chic. There was no TV and no view from the dirty window. I was only 19 and it wasn’t meant to be like this. Why was I feeling homesick after less than two days away?

I’d left Nottingham only 36 hours before, waving cheerily to my anxious parents and telling them that I’d be back in a couple of months. I took the bus across town and walked along the service lane to Trowell Services on the M1 – the point from which most of my hitchhiking adventures had begun. It was the end of my first year at university and I was full of anticipation; I might make it to Greece or Spain, perhaps even down to Turkey where I’d travelled by train only a couple of months before. I had no money for an Inter-Rail this time around; a minor detail and one that I was confident I could manage while I travelled.

I got to Paris the next morning and even had a free Channel crossing thanks to a friendly trucker who’d picked me up in Dartford. He had helpfully allowed me to stay in the cab during the formalities at both borders. Better than that, he even let me spend an uncomfortable but warm (and free) night in my seat while he disappeared to his compact sleeping box behind.

I would get a job once I arrived in Paris. Fruit picking, shop work, anything, as long as it paid for a bed and a basic meal or two. That was the plan; it took a few minutes in the employment exchange to shatter that dream. Once I had failed to grasp what the impatient woman was saying to me at the first attempt, she sent me packing. I picked up enough of her rapid-fire French to understand “if you can’t speak French you can’t work here”.

I wandered around for a while, oblivious to the famous cathedrals and monuments that I was passing. I was here to earn my travel money, not to be a tourist. My spirits dropped rapidly as I realised that I needed some money to keep going and that it wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought; even a week would be a stretch with my pitiful resources. In desperation I pulled out my trusted flute: it was on the steps of Notre Dame that for around an hour I tried to turn my fortunes around. I’ve even kept my sign as a memento!

The last resort: playing my flute for my supper outside Notre Dame in Paris

I made 5 Francs. Not enough to buy even a cold drink. The year before I’d made a far more impressive sum drawing cartoons on the streets of Copenhagen, but my crayons had stayed at home this time.

So I found myself in this tired, depressing hotel room; I was hungry, physically and mentally drained and, if truth be told, lonely. I’d travelled alone the previous summer for two months and never felt like this; something wasn’t right.

In the morning I’d decided; I was going home. My spirits lifted as I had a firm plan, and a day of perfect hitchhiking resulted in me getting back to Nottingham by around 8pm that evening, much to my parents’ shock and relief.

The next day I got a letter from the university. My exam results were some way short of outstanding and on that day the rest of my summer was set. I would be revising for my September re-sits.

Crap travel diaries: a naive teenager in Paris is a post from: 501 Places

Disturbing wolf, Lille Zoo

Imagine coming face to face with this creature? I was calmly munching on my baguette when I turned round and caught sight of this monster lurking in the bushes. Well, I was so shocked I almost dropped my delicious snack. When you’re in France for a day trip you should be prepared for almost anything. But this? Welcome to the eerie, slightly unnerving and utterly splendid cardboard zoo of Lille.

Le Parc Zoologique de Lille is a very impressive municipal zoo and easily reached by a 15 minute walk from the city’s main square. It does have some real animals too; in fact I’ve paid to enter zoos that are considerably smaller. The red pandas at the entrance are a crowd pleaser, and the American and African sections provide a selection of alpacas, llamas, rhino, zebras and gazelle-shaped creatures (not all mixed together obviously).

Levitating lynx

But it’s the cardboard animals that caught our imagination. They are scattered around the park, sometimes occupying enclosures where you’d normally expect a living and breathing animal to be pacing around. It’s startlingly easy to follow the logic of the zoo owners. They sat down when designing a zoo and decided what animals they wanted. Maybe they even let a bunch of kids draw up the list. And then they set about acquiring those animals. Any that they couldn’t get their hands on (the polar bears must have been  out of stock), they merely created a cut out and hoped no-one would notice. A brilliant plan.

Look at the picture above for example. The lynx looks real enough, but if you look closely you’ll see the wooden sticks that betray him as a fake. And once you know about this one, you start to wonder about the zebra behind it (it’s real I can assure you).

Red panda - this time I know it's for real

Wandering around the zoo, stopping to admire the polar bears peeling in the midday sun and looking yellow with age, it did make me think: maybe this is a glimpse of the future? How many of these species will be around in 50 years? Perhaps the zoo of the future will only have cardboard cut-outs to show the curious children what tigers or sharks used to look like? Maybe they will add in CGI and sound effects to create a more ‘real’ feel to a zoo without animals? Although feeding time at the aquarium is going to be a tough one to pull off using a wooden dolphin.

Lille Zoo

Or perhaps it is the keeping of animals in captivity that will become a thing of the past as the next generation rejects such habits in favour of virtual interactions with the world’s most exotic species. Why stare at a crocodile on the other side of a fence in the zoo when you can fight one in mortal combat using just a set of goggles? If it turns out to be the future, the Lille zoo may just be remembered as a trail-blazer of its time. Cardboard koalas may yet be here to stay.

The cardboard zoo: a glimpse of the future? is a post from: 501 Places

La Vieille Bourse, Lille

Planning a day trip from London? 90 minutes from the capital by train can take you to some interesting cities: Bristol, Southampton, Winchester, Canterbury, Stratford are just a few options. Until recently however, you would not have considered a French destination.

All this changed with the introduction of the high speed line that takes the Eurostar from London St Pancras to a long black hole under the Channel in less than 40 minutes. Lille is now perfectly accessible as the first major French city on the Brussels line, and is reached around 30 minutes after emerging on French soil.

La Grand Place, Lille

Lille is the centre of an industrial region and does not rank highly among the French tourist hotspots. While it may lack the surrounding beauty and interest of southern France, the city of Lille itself has enough to keep a visitor entertained for a day and probably a weekend. It’s a laid back city, and having been three times and arrived each time in mid-morning, it seems to me that the city doesn’t really wake up until somewhere approaching lunchtime.

Notre Dame de la Treille Cathedral in Lille

The city itself is filled with beautiful architecture that shows off Lille’s past as a major trading centre. The Vieille Bourse and the main square are worthy of lengthy exploration, and the Cathedral is a mix of the old and the modern, with a unique translucent front facade, offering a surprising appearance when viewed from within.

Little girl wanders through Lille street

Around the cathedral the narrow lanes offer a view of Lille from another time, and as with so many cities these lanes are now home to boutiques, craft shops and speciality restaurants. We had an excellent lunch at L’Assiette du Marché, and then treated ourselves to an oversized ice-cream by the main square. This region of France is well known for its waffle making skills, although by the time we were done with the ice-creams we were not in a position to take on a waffle. Always the way: too much food, not enough capacity…

Porte de Paris

There are a couple of museums worthy of note in Lille. The Museé des Beaux Arts is recognised as holding the finest collection of art in France outside of the Louvre, and it is well worth a visit. We arrived there at 4.45 and the lady at the ticket desk kindly gave us the €5 reduced tickets as they shut at 6pm. For someone who knows their art, you could easily pass half a day in here. The impressive building itself is well worth a look.

Place de la Republique, Lille

Another museum/art gallery that is worth seeing is the Musée de La Piscine de Roubaix. It’s a 20 minute metro ride out of the city, but it offers the chance to see a sizeable art collection in an old municipal swimming baths; not something you’ll get to do every day.

Musée de La Piscine de Roubaix

Finally, don’t miss the zoo – it’s an easy walk out of the city centre and situated near to the Citadel. Admission is free and they have a reasonable selection of animals, including a rhino and a couple of red pandas. Once you’re finished with the zoo there’s a pleasant walk to be had on the circular path around the Citadel itself.

Carving by the entrance to the Lille Zoological gardens

Lille is a poor cousin in terms of France’s efforts at promoting its tourism destinations, and perhaps the national tourist board should make more of an effort at the London day trip market. We left London at 8.30am and returned before 8pm, having spent over 8 hours wandering this historic and attractive city. It can be done for £49, which compares well with fares for similar distances in the UK.

Musee des Beaux Arts, Lille

Camambert in filo pastry

Lille: the perfect day trip from London is a post from: 501 Places

St Malo city wall

Having focussed much of our efforts of our trip to northern France on reaching Mont St Michel, I then looked at a map of the nearby area and wondered where we might take a drive. The city of St Malo appealed, not least when I took a look at its shape on Google Earth and saw its perfectly formed old city, contained neatly within a high city wall. St Malo it was to be!

St Malo city wall

Around 50 km from Mont St Michel, St Malo holds a strategic position on the north west coast. Ferries sail to the Channel Islands and across to England, but in years gone by this was a vital sea port for the French, and was almost destroyed by fire in 1944 during the liberation battles that were fought along this entire coastline.

Old stone houses typical of St Malo

We arrived in mid-morning, and headed straight for a croissant and coffee. Before 11am the sun stays well hidden behind the high walls of the tall buildings, and the long shadows keep the morning cool and breezy. Speaking of the wind, however calm it might feel within the shelter of the city, once on the walls (for that’s where you’re bound to head soon) the breeze increases significantly, especially on the western flank of the walls.

It is easy to stroll along much of the old wall and admire the views both inwards at the old city, and outwards at the crashing waves. There is a fortress at the northern end of the city, accessible only at low tide across a rocky causeway. We made it across to the entrance but sadly were not able to wait for the site to open.

St Malo: Tide in - no access to the fort

St Malo: Tide out - all clear to walk to the fort

As with much of our experiences along this coastline, there was a thriving tourist trade that was overwhelmingly dominated by domestic visitors. The city is full of attractive looking restaurants (including what looked like a very impressive sushi bar) and really was worthy of a whole day of exploration. In fact, Ryanair fly to nearby Dinard, and should folks from southern England wish to spend a weekend in this area courtesy of a cheap flight offer, they’ll be in for a treat.

St Malo cathedral

I don’t profess to be a photographer with that ‘special eye for a picture’, but I do think we timed our entry into the city’s cathedral to perfection. As we walked into the hugely impressive building and allowed our eyes to adjust to the dim light, we looked up in wonder as the sun shone through the stain glass and cast the most dramatic light patterns across the dark red sandstone bricks. No doubt it’s something that the regular visitors to the cathedral take for granted. But for us one-time tourists, it was a truly spectacular light display.

Patisserie in St Malo: Time for a break, but which to choose??

The beautiful walled city of St Malo is a post from: 501 Places

Bayeux tapestry

I went to visit the Bayeux tapestry when I was 15. Booooooring! I have a vague recollection of wandering through the darkened room in which it is hung, but I’m fairly sure my main aim was to get out into the sun as quickly as possible. What interest could an ancient wall-hanging possibly hold for a teenage boy?

Fast forward 26 years, and I was there again last week, travelling with my wife and making a detour to Bayeux for the purpose of visiting the famous tapestry on our way through Normandy. And how different it was this time! It’s the same building, probably the same audio commentary, although the computer graphics in the hall upstairs are no doubt new.

But I was fascinated by the accounts of King Edward of England, of Harold going to France and signing over England to William the Bastard (as he was then known), and how his breaking of that oath led to the Norman invasion of England. The Bayeux tapestry tells the story of this turbulent period through a series of images along its 70 metre length. Long since added to the UNESCO World Heritage list, the site receives many thousands of visitors who walk slowly along its length, admiring this intricate storytelling tool, produced in the 11th century for an illiterate population. It takes around 20 minutes to walk the length of the tapestry and hear the commentary that explains each scene.

Our visit to Bayeux got me thinking. Why are history and geography in particular so much more interesting to me now, as a fortysomething, than they were when my brain was better equipped to absorb the mass of information presented to me in my school years? I really didn’t appreciate the wonders of nature or the rich layers of history that my poor teachers were trying to pass on to me. It was all about getting us through the exams, and not about the real magic contained in the substance of those stories and those pictures behind the facts.

Now, with nothing more than interest and the desire to learn for pure enjoyment’s sake, I can go back to those same topics that I studied with dread and immerse myself in the lavish worlds of past rulers, in the great struggles of revolutionaries, and be astounded at the forces of nature that shaped our world.

Do we miss a trick with the youngsters in our education system? Is there a way to create that enthrallment early in life, or is it just the way of the world that we only learn to make sense of science, history, language and the natural world around us when we live a little more of our lives. I am convinced that any subject could (and should) be made far more relevant to children as they are put through our education system. Even maths can be made sexy!

As we shuffled slowly along the length of the Bayeux tapestry, large groups of French school kids hurried impatiently past us, eager to step outside again and uninterested in this ancient artefact. And I wondered whether they’ll be back again in time, just like I had to good fortune to return and look at the same scene through very different eyes.

Bayeux tapestry, and the world of teenage boredom is a post from: 501 Places

Restaurant in Honfleur, Normandy

In the UK we grow up with a love-hate relationship with our Gallic neighbours. We love to hate them, and tell countless jokes at their expense. I’m fairly sure it’s mutual. Travelling to Paris several times in my teenage years, the stereotype of the rude arrogant Frenchman was reinforced, as we were looked down upon and offered the worst in service.

But in recent years we’ve visited France many years and have come to appreciate the fact not only does it offer so many great places to visit as a tourist, but the people are actually, well, very hospitable.

Having just returned from a few days in Normandy, I was once again impressed by the high standards of service and the warm welcome that we received at every stop. There are certain things that are worth remembering. Firstly, I’ve found that it always pays to make an effort at speaking in French. My ability to converse in French is very limited, but for restaurants and hotels I can get by without too much difficulty. Once you’re seen to try, invariably you’ll be greeted cheerfully with a fluent English reply.

Secondly, remember that it is almost obligatory to greet the staff when entering a premises. Even if you are just browsing, it’s polite to offer a Bonjour to the assistant. Do that, and you’ll start on a good footing.

I always thought that the English were obsessed with courtesies and etiquette, but was surprised that the French seem to out-do us in this regard. As a recent example, we sat in a restaurant in Honfleur on the Normandy coast and were the only non-French diners during the whole evening, although the others were also tourists. We sat and observed as each diner got up to leave and bade farewell to everyone else in the restaurant. Indeed when it was our turn, we offered our Au Revoirs and Bon Soirs, and were cordially sent on our way by the staff and remaining customers. It was very nice to observe. I’ll try that in Pizza Express next time and see what reaction I get.

We’ve encountered similar hospitality in other parts of France, and it leads me to think back to my teenage years and whether it’s the French that have changed or whether it’s me. Yes, I’ve heard others say that the reception given to foreign tourists has improved over the years, but I am sure there’s more to it than that.

To receive hospitality you have to be wanted. In some parts of the world the fact that you have $$$ is enough to be wanted, but this was not the case here, where the tourist market is 90% domestic French. An effort at fitting in, a tacit acknowledgement that you are a visiting guest and a little bit of respect goes a long way to ensuring a warm welcome. I am sure that I got the welcome I deserved in my early years.

Will I cheer for the French when the World Cup starts? No, of course not. Some rivalries are just meant to be. But for anyone thinking of visiting France for the first time and concerned about a reputation for surly and unhelpful service, I would put your mind at rest. The welcome in France is as warm as anywhere else in the world; it’s up to us to behave in the right way to receive it.

In defence of French hospitality is a post from: 501 Places