Day 07 Monaco: We Know Walter

Yesterday ended with laundry — the kind of laundry you celebrate after three weeks on the road. Our apartment had only a washer, no dryer, so the room became a full-on Chinese laundry: clothes draped everywhere, a provided drying rack, common in Europe, chairs repurposed as drying racks, and the quiet joy of finally not washing socks in a sink. After surviving the Milan-to-Monaco train-strike saga, clean clothes felt like luxury.

This morning, with energy restored and a plan in place, we set out for the Monte Carlo Casino. The idea was simple: casino first, then either a bus ride or a long wandering walk. In Monaco, nothing is flat, nothing is straight, and everything seems to involve cobblestones and hills — but eventually, we arrived.

For €20, you can enter the casino in the morning while the tables are quiet and the building belongs more to history than high rollers. Photography is allowed in morning when the games are closed, and if you bring your passport, that same ticket also grants re-entry at 2:00 PM, when the games open and fortunes can be made… or donated. Whichever comes first.

The casino itself feels less like a place to gamble and more like a theatrical set waiting for actors. Built in 1863 to help rescue Monaco from financial collapse, and designed by Charles Garnier (yes — that Paris Opera House architect), the interior is Belle Époque excess at its finest: chandeliers, marble, gold leaf, frescoed ceilings, and a quiet hum of history. Even with no cards dealt, the room performs.

We scanned our tickets and entered Section One — let’s call it the general public slot-machine zone. From there we moved into the grand main room with the gambling tables, flanked by restaurants that are very much not priced like Denny’s. And then we stepped into Section Three — the private area.

It was off-season quiet. One other couple wandered through, then left. And that’s when Walter appeared.

Friendly. Calm. Curious.
Donna, as always, asked the kind of thoughtful questions that invite people to talk about themselves — a skill that builds connection even in fleeting moments. Walter shared that he has worked at the Monte Carlo Casino for over 35 years, starting at the bottom and now managing this private gambling salon, with plans to retire in the next couple of years.

He explained you need a €1 million deposit just to gamble here — a story he smiled about, possibly a myth, possibly theater. What is very real are the numbers: minimum bets of €100,000, and it’s not uncommon for €20 million to be on the tables at any given moment.

For reasons we still don’t quite understand — maybe timing, maybe curiosity, maybe Donna’s questions — Walter warmed to us. He paused, smiled, and said,
“I’ll be right back.”

He returned with a set of keys.

Walter opened massive doors leading into what I can only describe as the private-private area. This space turned out to be the center balcony overlooking the famous hairpin turn of the Monaco Grand Prix circuit. He pressed a button, and the enormous glass window silently opened. We stepped out to the railing.

My heart was pounding.

The Monaco Grand Prix is legendary because the city itself is the track — narrow streets, elevation changes, tight corners, and that iconic hairpin turn where cars crawl through at the slowest speed of the race. The circuit was first run in 1929, and it remains one of the most technically demanding races in the world.

And there we were.
Standing in the best seat in Monaco.

Walter casually mentioned, “This is the room JLo uses on race day.”
We sat in the same chairs.
Yes, I took some of the mints from the table.

Walter graciously took photos of us on the balcony and in our new favorite seats. Whatever JLo pays for race day — I’ll double it next season.

Eventually, Walter had to return to work. What he shared with us was pure generosity. He didn’t have to open those doors. He didn’t have to pause his day. Being able to say we stood where JLo, James Bond, and countless others have stood is fun dinner-party material.

But for me?
Seeing that hairpin turn from above — knowing exactly what it represents — that stopped my heart.

We left the casino and walked down to the street itself. Donna pointed upward toward our balcony, already claiming it for the next Grand Prix. Sorry, JLo — Walter knows us now.

Some days are about sights.
Some are about stories.
And some are about people you’ll never forget.

Today, we met Walter.

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