This text is copied from Golf Digest 1999:
In the wine country of Burgundy, in the shadow of a magnificent chateau, there is a golf course built in the shape of a woman. This is a very French thing to do.
Every ripple, every bend, duplicates the textures of the architect's lover. The architect is Robert Berthet. The lover is Nicole Jobert. One green at Golfs du Chateau de La Salle is her left palm precisely, every detectable crease and discernible bump. Another is the bottom of her foot tucked up over an ankle with five bunkers for toes. Here, the rough is a Roman tunic tossed over her right shoulder. There, shrubs provide her a ruffled skirt. Multiple tees are the buttons to an opened-back dress. "I am a Frenchman," Berthet says.
Near the woman-leg 15th hole (where long and longer patches of grass delineate a stocking top and a garter), in an indelicate, unplayable little marsh, the artist has planted aromatic sprays of lavender. "The purpose of rough," Berthet says, "is to make the golfer hesitate. Then you have only a few minutes to find your ball. It is seldom enough time."
Robert can be believed when he says, "Golf is still a very confidential game in France: a million and a half tennis players and only 280,000 golfers. Golf is not in the culture. It is not in the soul."
"French people think it's not a sport," says Patrick de la Chesnais, who commissioned the 640,000-square-meter sculpture of Nicole. De la Chesnais is a nobleman, a count or something. He plays polo. Nearly all of the Frenchmen in golf are aristocrats. Practically by definition, they are rich. Most have names like Patrick de la Chesnais or Jean Van de Velde.
Having golf courses built in the shape of a woman and a fortress. What else can we expect from a Frenchman?
Jari