C'est de toute beauté, la

This sculpture resonates with me. I’m not sure why.

It resides in Lacoste at the chateau of the Marquis de Sade, which is now owned by Pierre Cardin.

I spent formative years in an ugly city. Car factories, big-box stores, and a downtown core that still makes me think of cigarette-infused donuts. Every time I’ve been back I’m struck by the lack of beauty.

Which is what makes the South of France almost ridiculous. The surfeit. Too much. An overabundance. Like hoarding. I felt much the same a few years ago road-tripping from Edmonton to Whistler, B.C. You could fall asleep for an hour-and-a-half while your buddy drives, and you still wouldn’t miss much.

Because it’s all, like, awesome.

We village-hopped in the Luberon region, stopping at Lourmarin, Cucuron, Bonnieux, Lacoste, and Ménerbes. Fields of lavender and sunflowers. Vineyards. Medieval villages perched on low mountains. Chateaux. Olive tree groves. Bell towers. Cathedrals. Cypress trees. Crazy vistas.

See what I mean? French lucky-ducks.

Some of the winding roads freaked me out though. One hairpin turn after another. It made me panicky and I don’t know why, really. I wasn’t carsick. But it’s the same when I’m on a boat navigating choppy waters. Or having blood taken. Or that time when I was scuba diving in Cuba. Or when I saw a slug. Or when a bee landed in my hair. (I could go on. But we’ve all got our freaky things right? I mean, I have a friend who can’t deal with cottonballs.)

Kurt remains, as always, a source of comfort and edification.

[Driving along road lined with platane trees]

Kurt: Apparently Napoleon planted these to provide shade for his troops.

Kim: Good idea. That sun is crazy. Can you imagine being a soldier in this heat?

Kurt: God. Wearing thick wool tunics and bearskin hats.

Kim: They have bears in France?

Kurt: Well, yeah. When there were forests.

Kim: Right.

Also calming was the lack of people. I expected swarms of tourists. But there weren’t. (Which meant that fewer people were witness to the Punch-and-Judy-sissy-fight Kurt and I enacted in the street after lunch. Often we forget that we're in public.) We were able to browse the Maison des Truffes et Vins du Luberon alone. There wasn’t even a shopkeeper hovering. So we climbed the marble staircase to the wine-tasting room lined with portraits of local winemakers.

Then down to the cellar, which had the loveliest display of rosé I have ever seen.

We stopped by an outdoor terrasse for a drink. There we created our own simple version of the sublime.

Try this at home, kids.