In vino veritas... In wine lies truth. Basically, if you've had a drop, don't try fibbing because brain and tongue disengage in the presence of alcohol. Hence I am writing this at 9.55 am before a drop has passed by lips, so that you'll know that everything I say from here on is the real truth, the whole truth and nothing but.

Why bring up the subject of wine now in particular after all these months in France? Because we have sailed up to the doorstep of the Mecca of wine, Bordeaux. This is the south-west of France, that point on the compass towards which wine lovers everywhere orientate themselves for their five-times-daily prayers of thanks and reverence. So it seems a good time to talk about it.

Not that we need to have waited till now; everywhere we've travelled in France there has been wine aplenty, manifesting itself as rows and rows of vines on hillsides, as row upon row of bottles in the suoermarche, or as wine 'caves' in the towns and villages we've sailed through. ('Caves' in this case is pronounced 'calves'... they're often wineries or wine cooperatives, but also the name is applied to many wine shops)

Wine is not, however, a French invention, as many people like to think. Despite its prevalance here, and its prominence in French daily life, the origins of wine go back much further than France - the Greeks and Romans having also done their bit - but one of these days archaeologists are likely to discover cave paintings of a bunch of grapes, an amphora, and a group of Neanderthal pissheads bending over and regurgitating after a fantastic Neolithic night out. There might also be a drawing of a kebab.

At which point we will have to revise our thinking.

In the meantime, and despite the rise of New World wines, France retains an undeniable ranking in the world-wine league table. Now, you can interpret this as meaning it is still the home of the world's most magnificent - and expensive - wines. Or, that France is the undisputed home of wine etiquette and snobbery. Or that it's here that the acknowledged and hallowed wine traditions were born, for example white wine with fish, red wine with meat. Or all three. Doesn't matter; ultimately, France has a history and association with wine growing and drinking that spans hundreds and hundreds of years, and that's not something you can create overnight in the Californias, Hunter Valleys or Marlboroughs of the New World.

What a surprise then to find that on a daily basis France gives a Gallic shrug to wine tradition. To discover, in fact, that while many New Zealand wineries back in the 1970s used to have wine - and even port and sherry - 'on tap' so you could fill your own flagons (but closed all that down because it appeared too common), bulk-buying of wine in France is, well, common.

It's here you can buy wine in the supermarket in five-litre jerry cans, or sometimes even 10-litre containers. It's here you can take your empty plastic jerry can to the local cave and get it filled. We tapped into a fabulous Syrah-Grenache rose wine the other day at the Saint Sardos winery near Castelsarrasin... five litres for just over €10. (That's about NZ $4 a litre. Cheers!)

Another thing: red wine in the fridge. What? Chilled red wine? Yes. Although not unknown in the new world, in France if you order vin rouge at a cafe or restaurant you will often be asked if you'd like it 'fraiche', which in this case means chilled. Maybe not all the time, but in summer when the temperature's up towards 30, it's not a bad idea.

And speaking of cafes and restaurants, you have multiple choices about now you can order your wine. Obviously bottles are available, as is wine by the glass, but so too are pichets and carafes of varying sizes. These aren't always of the final crystal either; often a pichet of wine will be a pottery jug, maybe holding 250mls. And in most cafes, if you choose to order a simple vin blanc, vin rouge or rose it will be unashamedly dispensed from a tap behind the bar. It is simply table wine with no pretensions or aspirations. And no pretensions seems to be what general everyday wine-drinking here seems to be about. We like that.

It has to be said that Liz and I haven't made an exhaustive survey of the French wine lifestyle, our budget being restricted by having no income at present, so our tastes and expenditure have of necessity been plebian. But we are now approaching Bordeaux, the home of the famed chateaux such as Margaux, Lafite-Rothschild and Haut Brion. These and their peers are the prestigious 'first growths', the stuff of legend. It's highly unlikely if we nip into Chateau Margaux we'll be able to fill up with five litres of their '95. They're more likely to show us the door.

So the conundrum we face is, now that we're here, how do we at least experience the fame, the history, the tradition and the excellence of one of the best wine-growing regions in the world, when we can't afford to? How do we taste wine that for decades has set the benchmark for all other wines? Wine that sells for thousands of pounds at auction. How do we pop the cork on the creme de la creme?

It's all too much. I need a drink.