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Veules-les-Roses Tickle your toes. Les fruits de mer Y sont légendaires.
Beneath alabaster heights Where waters meet Salty and sweet, Je pêche la perle amongst petals of pink, precious beyond price.
L’origine du monde. Le mystère de la mer. A Veules-les-Roses Sits the secret Seemingly nobody knows.
Veules-les-Roses. Such a fanciful name, you’d think I’d made it up. Like Dr. Zeus. It is a bona fide tiny town on the Alabaster Coast of Normandy. In French, some names and words tantalize the foreign ear. Their soft caress is like feathers and flowers upon the skin.
She said: whatever that means, tell it to me, again and again!
Veules-les-Roses has several claims to fame.
It’s one (among who knows how many hundred) “most beautiful villages in France”. So that’s not much of a claim. It boasts the shortest river in France, with pure water flowing from the Alabaster heights right down through the village and into the sea. Finally, its oysters are the best in the world. That claim is not made by the villagers, who most certainly don’t want their limited oyster supply to become prey to the global markets.
The claim is mine. I have never tasted such oysters, both nutty and iodine, as if they were a gift from both land and sea.
Des fruits de mer, trésors de la terre.
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