The Magical People Who Deserve To Be Noticed

But aren't.

Photo by Yevhenii Dubrovskyi on Unsplash

Hello all,

I originally started writing a break down of our recent family holiday to the Côte D’azure in the south of France, but paused mid flow just as I was explaining to you all about our camping accommodation and army of ants who frequented our bedsides. I will share our holiday I PROMISE because I know there had been some interest (two people asked) around camping in such a glamorous part of the world and what it is like visiting with children.

But before I delve into that, there is a story I want to tell about the sparkly people who work tirelessly to create the illusion that this part of the world is exclusive for the wealthy and famous.

*Just to be clear - my family and I are most certainly not wealthy, famous or glamorous (no matter how hard I try I simply can not pull this off with a toddler attached to my hip and wonky teeth. Damn.) *

I believe that nowhere on planet Earth should be exclusive. And what we saw as we wandered the streets of Monaco (which by the way, even SMELL expensive), proved that no matter where you are in the world, there will always be construction workers, people who clean up other people’s mess and a place that sells hot dogs.

Tuesday 6th June 2023.

As we navigated our way through Monaco, searching in the scorching heat for any hint of “children’s menu” being served, we managed to work our way down onto the iconic race track. My husband and I are both fans of Formula 1 (myself more latterly), and to be on the actual race track where just the weekend previous was filled with fast engines, a large chunk of the world’s wealthiest people and camera crews, was quite thrilling. My son collected loose bits of rubber tyre from the side of the road which had come off the cars as they flew effortlessly round the narrow streets. He put them in his pocket and I can report they now sit pride of place on his chest of drawers in his bedroom. To anybody else who sees these tatty bits of rubber, it will mean nothing. But to him, and us, they are the cheapest souvenir we got that holiday.

Photo by Filipp Romanovski on Unsplash

We found ourselves walking through the famous tunnel that forms part of the race track. Turns out this is actually quite a tourist attraction as we saw a coach stop at the mouth of the tunnel, unload its passengers who clutched their phones while clicking away, before jumping back onto the coach and driving off to the next “photo opportunity”. As we walked through the tunnel, I suddenly became aware of a metal chain being pulled along the ground beside us. I pulled my daughter to the side before it tripped her up, and we continued walking, my eyes now trained to where this chain was leading and who was heaving it. A short distance up ahead, we found two men wearing hard hats, dirty vest tops and cargo pants. They were oblivious to us. Probably used to tourists at every turn and had somehow learned to block us out. They were the cause of the metal chain being dragged along the ground.

In that moment, it was as if the metal chain had lead us on a trail to prove that there were people living and working in Monaco who had actual jobs that involved manual labour and hard graft. They were the cogs in the machine that kept this whole facade ticking over. No, I’m not entirely sure what it was they had been tasked to do but it looked important and something that contributed to the upkeep of the stretch of road through a rather iconic tunnel. Does Max Verstappen notice them as he whizzes past?

We left the dimness of the tunnel, I could still hear the men working behind me, as the sun dazzled our eyes and we were back out into the glamour. We continued our exploring by heading down towards the harbour to oggle at yachts that were worth more than we would ever earn in a lifetime. It was nice. We knew it was a different world to ours but it was fun to browse and pick out our favourites. You know, just in case ;)

We turned another corner and were immediately faced with the stands from the previous weekends F1 race. The stands we had seen on the TV filled with crowds of fans, craning their necks to see the cars but also the celebrities that suddenly all loved Formula 1 racing…

The stands were still there. Existing long after the crowds had gone. A loud banging was coming from one end of the stands and there, of course, we saw a group of scaffolders dismantling the right wing. They had their hard hats, some even wore hi-vis jackets, heads bent as they knocked out screws and carried large chunks of metal away from the site. They shared jokes and called out to one another in French. In their own bubble, sun bouncing off metal, open toed shoes tatty from miles walked. A woman drove a fork lift, cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth and she looked extremely bored.

Backwards and forwards she travelled in the forklift. Navigating around bystanders, people posing for photos and those who were far more interested in the yachts.

I watched her for a while, going about her work. How would the stands be built to hold the crowds, who watched the motor racing and bring in the money, if it weren’t for this team of scaffolders? More cogs.

And again. I wonder what happens to those people when the celebrities and billionaires arrive? Do they get to mingle and say things like, “phew that corner piece of scaffolding was a bugger to put together but the team and I worked late to make sure it was done in time”? (How do you say “bugger” in French? Le salaud.)

The people we saw below the surface of the harbour front, flash cars and designer shops stayed with me more than the pretentious hand bags and manicured poodles. I had so many questions. Do they love working here? What do they think of the lifestyle? And, most importantly, what would happen if one day they just didn’t turn up for work?

Holidays/travel are enriching in so many ways. Even a trip down the road to a local campsite can teach you things about other humans habits that you probably don’t even want to know. It is a privilege to be able to go on holiday and move freely, and I think it is important we don’t forget ANY of the people who come together to make experiences and days out enjoyable.

If you want to know how much we spent in a McDonalds in Nice, then make sure you are signed up to my Substacks (it is completely free) and it will land straight in your inbox.

Right, I have an email to compose to Easy Jet after they cancelled our flight home…