Well it certainly is for me. Preferably somewhere beautiful, and if possible with some personal attachment to the place. This is one of my favourite walks, above Limoux, into the 'woolly' hills that the rise above the town.
There are circling ravens, curving stripes of vine fields and a very friendly old man who inhabits the 'hameau' (hamlet) with his son and wife. The last time I visited, we traded jam ideas and he told me that where he lives is the real paradise and that he has no wish to see the other one . . .
If I arrive here in a confused mood, I am always 'unravelled' by the time we are back to the car. If Ezra has whinged about the prospect, afterwards he is always refreshed and carrying spoils of the outing; today, part of an abandoned wasps nest with its intricate paper thin layers.