The minibus slips away from Nice and the Mediterranean light thins into lavender-scented hills. In the space of a few coastal miles you trade the seaside grid for narrow stone lanes, ramparts that catch the late sun and cliffside villages that seem to challenge the sky itself. Saint-Paul-de-Vence opens like a living gallery: cobbles, galleries and a view that keeps pushing you to look farther. Tourrettes-sur-Loup answers with violet-scented boutiques and honeyed stone. Gourdon crowns a limestone ridge and looks down on pine-scrub slopes; Grasse breathes perfume into every alley.