Walk with me in Monaco

Visitors to Monaco would be forgiven for thinking that Ferraris and mopeds are the only means of navigating its streets. But there are roads and paths with little traffic, where it is possible to enjoy a quiet, peaceful stroll. Let me take you around a thirty minute route that I walk most days.

Whatever time I set off, there are groups of hard-hatted, hi-vis-shirted builders eating baguettes at the sandwich shop across the road. In the cafe around the corner, elegant ladies sip coffee, and bankers in Italian suits make deals. I wave at the waiter as I pass by. This street is relatively traffic-free and takes me past the rear entrance of the Hermitage Hotel. Perhaps this evening I shall have a whisky at the Crystal Bar? A rare treat.

Continuing downhill, I pass the synagogue, which seems to have been modelled on a clifftop bunker. I turn left through a car park barrier and left again into a small public garden. Parents chat, their kids squeal with delight on the climbing frame and slides. Behind them I glimpse the sea. One of Monaco's wormhole elevators takes me down to the port, and after crossing the road I am on the quayside, which is lined with enormous yachts. Who owns them and why do they never seem to leave the harbour? The Bateau Bus is just casting off, ferrying passengers to the far side of the port, and up ahead sits the Yacht Club, built to resemble a cruise ship. At its western end there is a wine bar that serves platters of cheese and charcuterie and sells a remarkably cheap bottle of Condrieu. Along its quay, dinghies jostle for space and members of the rowing club haul their boats onto dry land.

Steps then ascend to a jetty marking the end of the harbour, and from here there is a good view of the monstrous cruise ships. On the next level up I take another elevator to the terraces behind Monte Carlo Casino. It is a delightful spot in the early morning. I nod "bonjour" to dog-walkers and joggers, and on a clear day I linger, watching the rising sun balance on the horizon, silhouetting the coastal mountains towards Italy.

On summer afternoons my steps fall in line with the thumping rhythms from Nikki Beach, or the laid back beats drifting out of Buddha Bar. Now comes my least favourite section of the walk, where the morning calm is broken by leaf blowers and delivery vans and I must splash through streams of water where street cleaners hose down the paving. In the afternoon the sun's glare blinds me, its heat intensifies as it radiates from the stones. The crowd of sightseers in Casino Square is impenetrable and I push on quickly to reach the gardens that lead uphill and back home. Here, shaded by banana trees and palms, ducks nibble the grass and office workers take a break, and if I am very lucky, I hear the birds singing.