Le Hammeau makes ideal base for exploring St. Paul and Grasse

Maybe it's my Sicilian blood.

Put me in a garden with olive and lemon trees, grape vines and a view of the sea, and I'm instantly at home. Then again, I defy anyone wandering the grounds of Hotel Le Hammeau not to drop into fantasies about living in a place like this. This is as close to heaven and many people get.

We're in the Provencal hills, just half a mile from the picture postcard village of St. Paul de Vence. A green valley stretches away before us, sloping down to the glistening blue Mediterranean. The hotel is a complex of old farm buildings, now knit together into a series of rooms, many with their own entrances, opening onto gardens, a courtyard dominated by an infinity pool, or tiled paths beneath pergolas. The whole place is in an immaculate state of repair, with the exteriors sparkling white and interiors floored with terra cotta tiles and furnished with French country furniture and cheery Provencal fabrics. There's a profusion of places to sit and take in the landscape; one of them even features a small court for boules. The feel is more B&B than hotel, with just two public rooms: a breakfast room and a lounge. The lounge comes complete with free wifi, a computer to use if you don't have your own, a big fireplace (sadly, not working when we were there) and a small bar from which the hotel staff will pour you whatever you wish upon request.

Le Hammeau is within walking distance of St. Paul de Vence (exactly half a mile to the town gate), meaning you can wander to a range of dining options without driving and avoid the hefty parking charges at this top tourist spot. And best of all, by car it is less than 20 minutes to Nice Airport. Meaning that while it feels like you've escaped civilisation, your travel time to get back is minimal. With frequent and not horribly expensive return flights from Heathrow (generally about £150), this is an ideal getaway for a long weekend.

What's there to see and do?

St. Paul is worth a day of gentle wandering. It's a walled medieval hill town (a miniature San Gimignano); gate to gate is no more than half a mile. There's just one main lane cutting along the spine of the hill, with small paths leading up or down from it. Nothing is wide enough for a car, and it appears that no new architecture has hit the town since some baroque altars were dropped into the medieval church, so the whole place is a pedestrian paradise resembling a film set more than a place where real people live. And for better or worse ... you can decide after visiting yourself ... the reality of St. Paul these days is that behind the medieval stage set, it's an upscale shopping mall. There are really only four types of public establishments inside these walls: art galleries, gift shops, upscale clothing boutiques and restaurants.

While paradise for a girls' weekend, I suspect most men would get bored pretty quickly. My friend Lisa, whose trim, petite size makes her an easy fit for European designers, scored big at a small shop carrying gorgeous formal blouses with intricate cuffs and collars. Hillary fulfilled Christmas "Auntie" responsibilities at a children's shop filled with trendy, unusual kids clothes. We all emerged with bags from a shop specialising in locally produced olive oils, olive oil-based cosmetics and gourmet vinegars. (Mango vinegar on cod is a winner.) I was mightily tempted by some gorgeous Provencal linens, drawn back from the brink of spending by remembering the pile of table ware waiting to be sorted at home, Provencal patterns amongst them.

Provence has always been a haven for artists because of its legendary light, with St. Paul's most famous resident being Marc Chagall. It's drawn a regular community of artists ever since his time , thus the profusion of galleries. Offerings range from sculpture and monumental pieces down to small watercolours, in styles from traditional to modern, and all a much nicer quality than the usual tourist tat.

Even if you're in full Christmas-shopping mode, however, it would be hard to spend more than six hours in St. Paul without exhausting its possibilities. (Excluding dining, which will be a different entry.) The most logical thing to do in the immediate area ... especially if you're three women on an indulgent weekend ... is head to Grasse, world centre of perfume making.

Every culture has used perfume, and its roots go back to the beginnings of human history. Quite simply, we like things that smell nice. But it was the French who really turned it into an industry, making the first branded scents and paving the way for the multi-billion dollar industry that exists today. Grasse, perched like St. Paul in the Provencal hills between Cannes and Nice, took advantage of the abundant flowers and long growing season of the area to become a producer of fine scent. Today there's the international museum of perfume (closed, sadly, in November) and countless shops selling everything from essential oils and high end perfumes to humble packages of scented soap.

Fortunately for off season tourists, perfume maker Fragonard has its own museum a stone's throw from the official one and that ... thanks to the fact that this is clearly a way to get people into the shop ... is open all year. It's an interesting series of rooms displaying how the stuff gets made (given the fact that the three of us have also done a whisky tour, we couldn't help noticing how similar the distillation process is) and how it's been used and marketed through history. The collection of perfume bottles is particularly interesting. You emerge, bien sur, into the gift shop, which naturally has a scent for everyone. Far better value for money, however, are the smaller shops scattered throughout town. We bought little perfume, finding our own regular, big brand scents to be unbeaten, but loaded up on soaps, pommanders, scented hangers for closets and the like. And one of the joys of France, of course, is that even the smallest purchase is wrapped with great care and some sort of flourish.

The drive to and from St. Paul is a sightseeing adventure on its own, though not for the faint-hearted driver. These are twisting mountain roads, sometimes cutting through woodland and sometimes snaking around inclines with precipitous drops below and stunning views to the side. Which the driver (aka me), of course, takes in at his or her peril. You can do a great circle drive, starting from St. Paul, heading south and picking up signs for Grasse. This route takes you through Roquefort-des-Pins and, as you might gather from the name, is heavily wooded. Take the alternate route back through the Loup valley for more dramatic views. To do this, follow the signs for Confiserie Florian, one of the most heavily advertised establishments in the area.

This justifiably famous candy shop sits at the bottom of a dramatic gorge at the start of the Loup valley. Water rushes below, white stone cliffs loom above, and inside a complex of humble old buildings the locals produce delicacies like violet liqueur (makes a stunning, and shockingly purple, cocktail when added to champagne), rose syrup, citrus peel dipped in chocolate and candied flower petals. It is the gastronomic flip side of the floral output that gave Grasse its perfume. Prices are shocking, of course, but this is delicate stuff that's tough to find even in most gourmet shops. And great for Christmas gift baskets for your foodie friends.

Further down the road sits the town of Tourrettes-sur-Loup, another beauty clinging to its hillside and radiating Mediterranean charm. Certainly worth a stop if you have time ... which is something we'd run out of at this point. A gorgeous drive, we all assumed this would be fantastic hiking country in the summer. Certainly worth a longer stay for those who have the time.

And for those who can afford to buy a garden with citrus trees overlooking the Med? Seems to me that's worth all the time in the world.