3 months ago
24
Chrissie McClatchie
October 30, 2025 — 5:00am
My friends, Jules and Jez, who are over from Sydney, have no idea there is anything unusual about Seborga, the village we are driving towards in the Ligurian hinterland of northern Italy — and that’s exactly how I’ve planned it.
All they know is that I’m taking them to one of my favourite restaurants, and that it’s the lunch stop on our day trip from my home in Nice, just across the border in France.
I’ve also told them that we’ll have set foot in four countries by the time we return this evening. They’ve quickly rattled off three of them: France, Italy and Monaco. But it’s the final one that’s thrown them, just as I figured it would.
What they haven’t realised yet is that, as one of those eccentric oddities known as a micronation, Seborga is country number four.
As we head into the terraced hillside from the waterfront at Bordighera, the Italian coastal resort beloved by European royalty and artists like Claude Monet, the road twists and turns inland.
With each bend, the Mediterranean Sea views become more expansive — and the speed at which locals take the corners in their ubiquitous Fiat Pandas appears increasingly daring.
Even when Seborga swings into sight after one particularly tight bend, there’s nothing to suggest this isn’t just another photogenic cluster of stone houses huddled together atop a rocky ridge almost 500 metres above sea level.
Then we reach a large, light blue and white crest, hand-painted on the road. Metres later, a sentry box appears, more rudimentary than those outside Buckingham Palace, also coloured light blue and white (Seborga’s national colours). Once we pass a handmade sign saying “Welcome to the ancient principality of Seborga” in various languages, they have twigged to the fact that this isn’t your typical Italian hilltop village, as much as it might look like one from the outside.
Hugging the French and Italian border with views extending down to the high rises of the legitimate principality of Monaco, Seborga’s claim to independence dates to the 1960s, when local mimosa (European wattle) grower Giorgio Carbone uncovered documents that, he believed, proved the village was never officially annexed to Italy during the country’s unification.
Carbone became Prince Giorgio I, Seborga’s first prince, in 1963 and went by the fabulous epithet of “His Tremendousness”. He ruled for 46 years until his death in 2009. The New York Times published his obituary.
Seborga’s narrow stone alleys whisper of Knights Templar treasure buried somewhere within them. More recently, they have withstood a challenge from an imposter prince, a Frenchman who lay claim to the Seborgan throne in 2016.
Since 2019, the population of just under 300 has pledged allegiance to Princess Nina — otherwise known as German-born, Swiss-educated, Nina Menegatto. Seborga has its own flag, national anthem, La Speranza, issues its own stamps, mints its own banknotes and coins (you can find the Seborgan Luigino listed on xe.com) and even has its own motto: sub umbra sede, which translates as “sit in the shade”.
After posing for the obligatory photo peering out the sentry, and admiring the Ferraris parked at the entrance to the village (we are in Italy and within touching distance of Monaco, after all), we are swallowed up in the warren of cobblestone streets. You can wander through the village in under an hour or so, with most streets leading to Piazza San Martino, Seborga’s pretty main square, framed by a centuries-old palazzo and a Baroque church dating back to the 17th century.
Even after nearly two decades living in Nice, the thrill of being able to go to Italy for lunch still hasn’t faded. I’ve found it’s also one of the easiest ways to impress anyone who visits from Australia. But why only visit one other country in a day, when you can set foot in a further two, particularly when they are a quirky pairing of a microstate, in Monaco, the world’s second smallest country, and a micronation? What’s more, the entire loop takes just over 120 kilometres – less than half the distance between Sydney and Canberra.
Country one, of course, is France. We start the morning fresh with warm buttery croissants from Boulangerie Roy Le Capitole, whose owner, Frederic Roy, is something of a croissant crusader, on a mission to rid France of mass-produced, processed pastries. His neighbourhood bakery, one street back from the beach in Nice, is unassuming, but he’s the pastry supplier of choice for Nice’s legendary Le Negresco hotel and his lavender croissants, made with lavender grown in the Cote d’Azur backcountry, are unlike any other croissant I’ve tasted.
From Nice, it’s a 45-minute drive to the Italian border town of Ventimiglia, usually timed for a latte macchiato stop at one of the cafes outside its covered market, where stalls spilling out onto the curb brim with produce fresh from local market gardens and shoppers barter spiritedly over hard cheeses and salumis.
While French-plated cars stocking up on cheaper groceries, booze and cigarettes in Ventimiglia are a common sight, the town is increasingly drawing people across the border for its fine dining scene, with the likes of Balzi Rossi and Casa Buono earning accolades (and Michelin stars) for their contemporary takes on traditional Ligurian cuisine. Add in a new superyacht port to accommodate the Monaco overflow, and Ventimiglia is suddenly the coastline’s ugly duckling that’s beginning to shed its outer coat.
Seborga is only 25 minutes away, yet feels frozen in another time. We lunch under a vaulted ceiling at Hosteria Del Coniglio, a family-run restaurant that opened in 1902. The rustic interiors and cosy courtyard dining space feel like they have hardly changed since then. Coniglio (rabbit) and goat are the specialities here, but I can’t go past any dish with mushrooms when they are in season.
After a long lunch, we start back down the hillside towards Monaco, 45 minutes away and the final of the day’s new countries. The terraces along the glittering Port Hercules are still warm under the touch of the lowering sun. We wander up through the streets behind the harbour to La Distillerie de Monaco, the principality’s first and only distillery.
The owner, Irishman Philip Culazzo, is behind the counter with a smile, ready to pour us a tasting serve of the trio of made-in-Monaco drinks: L’Orangerie, a zesty liqueur similar to limoncello that’s fashioned out of bitter oranges grown on Monaco’s streets, a Gin aux Agrumes made from locally sourced botanicals and, my favourite, Carruba, a thick velvety liqueur made from Monaco’s national tree, the Carob. With hints of coffee and chocolate, it’s dessert in a glass.
What remains of the afternoon drifts away in the comfort of the lounges outside the Brasserie de Monaco, a craft brewery on the Grand Prix circuit, before we drive the half hour along the coastal corniche back to Nice.
Our passports might not show it (in fact, we didn’t even need to bring them with us), but there aren’t many places in the world where you can visit four countries in a day — and still be home for dinner.
THE DETAILS
CAR HIRE
Pick up a hire car from Sixt (sixt.com) or Europcar (europcar.com) at Nice Cote d’Azur Airport or from Nice Ville train station in the city centre.
STAY
One of Nice’s smartest accommodation choices is the four-star boutique Hotel La Perouse, with recently refurbished rooms which start from $380 and an excellent location where Vieux Nice, the old town, meets the Mediterranean Sea. See hotel-la-perouse.com
Breakfast on Frederic Roy’s handmade croissants at Le Negresco, the pink-and-white domed Belle Epoque beauty where every room is individually styled to a period of art history. Prices start from $630. See lenegresco.com
FLY
Emirates flies daily to Nice from Dubai, as well as daily to Dubai from Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. See emirates.com
MORE
france.fr/en
italia.it/en
visitmonaco.com/en
principatodiseborga.com/en
The writer travelled at her own expense
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