A Week in Monaco

There is something timeless about arriving in Monaco in late spring. The light is different here — softer, warmer, as though the Mediterranean itself is glowing from beneath. I spent the first morning walking along the port, watching the yachts sway gently, before settling into a café terrace with an espresso and the International Herald Tribune.

The evenings were my favourite. Dinner at Le Louis XV, where Alain Ducasse's kitchen continues to astonish, followed by a quiet stroll through the illuminated gardens of the Casino. One night we drove along the Grande Corniche as the sun set — the kind of moment that stays with you long after the tan fades.

Monaco reminds me why I fell in love with the south of France. It is extravagant without apology, yet intimate if you know where to look. I am already planning my return for the Grand Prix weekend.