Stone statues of naiads and seafarers, sea angels and crusaders line the Greek columned façade of the Oceanographic museum. More accurately termed as a palace by its founder Prince Albert I, the museum is found erupting from the top of an 85m rock bluff along the Monacan peninsula. The latitudinal structure is split into two wings across four floors. Starting at the basement, come face to face with the angelic winged rays and the prehistoric sharks, a living relic of natural history, from behind 34cm of solid glass. Across the shark lagoon is an artificially induced reef flat which now successfully supports the feathery maned lionfish and bizarre axolotl. Over by the Mediterranean, the thick lipped, pouting garoupa and rascasse, a miniature version of the scorpionfish featured as a delicacy in Monacan cuisine idly drift by the curious onlookers without a care.

The entire museum is a work of art with gaint cast squids with their penetrating gazes and chandeliers fashioned after the dripping tentacles of jellyfish. Permanent exhibits by artists such as Mark Dion reflect the intertwining beauty of art in science as featured on the first floor of the museum. You would even gain insight into the life of a Victorian era scientist through the replica of Prince Albert’s lab as it was aboard his personal vessel. Don’t be left gawking when you walk to the opposite wing however, seeing the dominating beaked skeleton of a fin whale suspended in air.

The final floor opens out to an observation deck and wooden enclosure dotted by desert tortoises from Africa lazing in the sun. Ending the day with such splendid views and in the company of such patient companions, you’re sure to leave the Oceanographic Museum more aware and motivated to free these captive creatures from their harassers.