By Maureen Costello

The shade of a fig tree and a delicate sea breeze spared me the heat of a July morning as I stood in the gardens of the St. Tropez Office de Tourisme studying three glasses of wine set on a white tablecloth before me.

All the glasses were half full - or half empty - depending on your philosophy of life. One contained a red wine, another white and the last, rose - all served at room temperature. My job was to determine which glass held which, a task made difficult because the dark goblets rendered the liquids colorless and the 80 degree temperature challenged taste buds. If I guessed correctly, I would win a bottle of wine from this region. That would mean a lot to a gal on a bantam budget in this playground of the super-rich. Except for a bartender from Belgium, no one before me in our group had guessed correctly. If I failed, at least I would have enjoyed three free samples of the local libations.

I lift the first glass. Warm taste of berries: could that be currant? This must be the red. I sample the second. Warm essence of musk and truffles. This could be red. I taste the third. Warm, of course, with a zest of something fruity and musk? I'm not sure, but it's a little lighter than the first. This could be the rose or the white, or even the red.

I detect trouble in paradise. My request for a second taste before choosing is granted. I relax and breathe. I catch a spicy perfume of licorice from the first glass, a subtler one of pineapple and flowers in the second and a sweet aroma of peaches and maybe a little raspberry from the third. "Red," I say indicating the first glass. "White," to the second and "Rose," for the last.

I want to let out a cheer as Melanie, a St. Tropez Oenologist, pours the wine into clear glasses. I have won - but I am in St. Tropez and not at a Super Bowl party. I nod politely during the pleasant round of applause while accepting a gift-wrapped bottle of France's finest.

The wine tasting in St. Tropez concluded a guided walking tour through crowded outdoor markets along curvy paths. Artfully arranged mounds of fat crimson peppers, leafy green vegetables and dust-covered truffles bordered the lanes as vendors proclaimed their freshness while peeking out from between links of sausages and dried herbs suspended from kiosk canopies.

The tour, which began at the harbor, first led me to the shores of The Gulf of St. Tropez. Famous for shipbuilding and fishing through the 17th century, this stretch of warm and composed Mediterranean Sea is now home to some of the most elegant, soft-sand beaches in the world and doubles as the high-energy aquatic field for motorboat races. I forgot about rumored celebrity sightings on land (supposedly Paris and Tinkerbell were strolling nearby) as I cast my eyes on the wealth of yachts docked and sailing in the shimmering sea. I watched as crewmen cranked pulleys to lower Jet Skis for youngsters waiting eagerly on the deck. More than a few sterns sported helicopter landing pads, allowing their passengers to bypass tenders to get to and from shore.

With my bottle of wine in hand, I finished the tour, meandering past food, gift and designer shops and residences; all made from stone the color of earth, and separated by cobbled paths barely wide enough for me to find cover from impatient drivers of motor bikes.

FOR MORE INFORMATION