Tigershark

"Maybe we should go to the Tigershark," I say to Billie Stormzy, who's sitting behind me on the bicycle. "Yes!" he shouts enthusiastically.  The idea was, actually, to go to the harbour and find a place to have lunch there. However, it's rainy, the wind is too strong, and we just cycled past the Tigershark anyway, and Billie Stormzy loves that place. He's not the only one. Tigershark started in 2018 - I remember they plastered the neighbourhood with their trademark yellow and black stickers. I still cycled almost daily to and from the Holland Spoor railway station at the time, from where I commuted to Breda - and all the way from the centre to Scheveningen, there was not a single streetlight without that sticker on it. I vaguely gathered they were trying to start a coffee place in Scheveningen through crowdfunding, but I did not pay much attention. 

My taste in coffee has changed quite a lot since then, mostly influenced by a good friend who is quite into coffee, so much so, actually, that he is currently starting his own coffee brand. In any case, Tigershark also played a role in this change: once it was up and running, I very much took to this place. It's laidback surfer vibe, effortlessly cool design, and art by Ivo Janss. To be honest, it was probably especially the latter that caught my attention - riffing on classic cartoons, graffiti and skateboard culture, it's exactly the type of visuals I really enjoy. It reminds me of my time living in a squat in Groningen where the walls were covered in this kind of stuff. In any case, once I was hooked on the vibe, I also got hooked on the coffee, which really is something different here. As I said, my taste in coffee changed quite a lot over the past few years. Not being a natural coffee drinker - one cup per day is more than enough for me, and I used to not really like the taste - I really had to learn and appreciate what you can do with coffee. I've come to prefer oatmilk over regular milk for my lattes, and cannot stand poor quality coffee anymore. I guess being picky about something like this is somewhat decadent. But it's nice to be able to really enjoy something too, and I can now really indulge myself with a good cup of coffee.

On the way in, we meet the owner, who is just leaving. He is exactly like the place itself: effortlessly cool, the embodiment of the laidback skateboarder or surfer. He also happens to be our neighbour, but funnily enough, that was something I only discovered during the lockdowns, when I saw him sitting in front of his house a lot. Inside, we wait in line to order. Billie Stormzy takes his usual apple juice, and wants banana bread too. I assume that two slices of banana cake, a croissant and a date pie will make a good lunch for both of us. I also take a cappucino. 

It's very crowded today - there is no table left, but there is a couch and two comfy chairs in one corner, of which one chair is still not occupied. I ask the people alrady sitting here, whether we can take the chair, and we can. Billie Stormzy immediately claims most of the chair and tells me I can sit in a small strip on the left. When I sit down, however, he shifts to make space, then climgs on my lap. The friendly young barrista who took our order brings the croissant and date pie, after which Billie Stormzy gets very worried: where is his banana bread? I pick him up and walk to the counter, to show him they are warming the banana bread in the roaster. While we are there, two people are getting up to go, so I take the opportunity to have a table to ourselves: I put Billie Stormzy on a stool next to the table and go and get the date pie and croissant. Just at that moment, the barrista is bringing us the rest of our order, and we're ready to have our lunch. 

I break off bits of banana bread for Billie Stormzy, who really enjoys them. He starts stuffing his mouth, and I tell him to first finish what he has in his mouth, before having more. He gets a naughty sparke in his eye, and has some more, looking for my reaction. I smile, because I quite enjoy his naughty twinkle, and he starts smiling too. We continue our lunch. It all tastes great, but I especially love the date pie, which I always take when I'm here. It's got a wonderful texture and rich taste, and goes very well with the coffee too - which, as always, is tasting great. 

Billie Stormzy is jumping around our table. One or two times, I have to tell him to keep the volume down a little, as he is so enthusiastic that he starts screaming, but mostly he is just having harmless fun. His good mood is infectious: people smile when they see him bouncing up and down. A woman tells me she loves how energetic he is, and the barrista is also clearly charmed by his antics. He keeps close to the table where I sit, so he is not in anyone's way, and he really is in a delightful mood. When he is not bouncing around, he jumps on my lap to cuddle, or to have bits of banana cake, the croissant, or the date pie. He's also quite chatty, talking about pre-school, where he spend his morning and where I picked him up before we came here, and about when, in "the past", he visited the Tigershark with his mum (he means yesterday, which he often calls "the past"). 

We're almost done with our lunch. Billie Stormzy has a few last bites, and I'm finishing my coffee, when he says: "Shall we go home and listen to Twee beren?" That's the title of a CD he got for his birthday. As always, it's taken him some time before he started to appreciate this present - it's the same with books, whenever he gets a new one, it takes some convincing before he lets us read it to him - but now he loves it. It is a good cd indeed, with Dutch children songs performed by regular bands and artists, from all kinds of backgrounds: rock, reggae, rap... Without exception, it all sounds impressively good for a cd with children songs. We used to play the first volume in this series, compiled by a Belgian artist calling himself Kapitein Winokio, a lot when Billie Stormzy's sister was his age. I found it by searching online for good performances of children songs, as I was getting really fed up by the terrible quality of most music for kids, and it was a great find indeed. 

I ask Billie Stormzy if he doesn't want more apple juice, which he has hardly touched until now. He quickly finishes most of it, then tells me the rest is for me. I take the last sip, and then we leave. As I say "tot ziens" (Dutch for "see you later", but used as "goodbye" in English), Billie Stormzy says "tot straks". When we're on the street, he starts explaining why he did that. "I always say 'tot straks', not "tot ziens', he remarks, pensively.
"Is that so?" I say.
"Yes, I always say 'tot straks'. I used to say 'tot ziens', though. In the past."
"Did you?"
"Yes, when I was 2. When I was 1. Then I said 'tot ziens'. I also stepped in dog poo when I was 1."
"Did you?"
"Yes, it was on my shoe!" The memory makes him laugh. I vaguely remember this indeed happened once, but I am guessing my partner told him about this a while ago, and it is a second hand memory, rather than something he actively remembers. Although he does have a remarkable memory, knowing things that surprise me, such as the house number of a friend of Rihanna Gaga who moved out of Scheveningen when he was 2.

While Billie Stormzy was reminiscing on how he used to say goodbye and that time he stepped in dog poo, I have picked him up, put him in his bicycle seat and strapped him in. We're ready to go. When Billie Stormzy says he wants to listen to Twee beren, what he really means is he wants to sit on my lap on the chair next to the stereo system, put on the cd and sing along to all the songs together. So I know what we'll be doing when we get home.

La Galleria

A few days ago, when we went to Rotterdam because Billie Stormzy had developed a bit of an obsession for going to that city, his sister really did not want to come. In order to plie her, I had to make two promises: she could have fries for lunch, and on Satuday she could chose what we would do. Today is Saturday, and she is in charge. When she made her choice, I realise I should have slightly modified my promise: I should have said, we would do something together, and she could chose what we would do. As a result, her choice is that she will go and do something with a friend, leaving Billie Stormzy and me to our own devices. What she chose was that she would go ice skating at the ice skating ring in front of the Kurhaus - it's there every winter and she loves to go for a skate on it. To at least spend some time with her, I suggested we could go for lunch together before that and she agreed, so before she will put her skates on, we're visiting La Galleria, which is right in front of the ice skating ring. 

And yet, Billie Stormzy and I are still sitting by herself, as his sister, Rihanna Gaga, is outside waiting for her friend. La Galleria has the bad luck it is located in a building without soul: a modern construction that really is not pretty at all. The whole area in front of the Kurhaus is, in fact, terribly ugly. The Holland Casino, made of metal plates with small round windows, is probably the worst looking building, but the competition is certainly stiff. It is therefore quite a feat that the place still looks quite pretty - much better, in fact, than the half-hearted attempt at an Italian bistro look of the restaurant that La Galleria runs at the boulevard, which we visited almost a year ago. The floor consists of wonderful coloured tiles that look like something you'd rather expect to find in some old mansion in the Italian countryside than in a building in the Netherlands from the 1980s. And the walls are covered in nice looking wallpaper with a pattern either drawn by William Morris, or somebody trying to imitate his proto-Art Nouveau-style. 

On the sound system, there's upbeat Italian pop music. A waitress - Italian herself, judging from her accent - comes to take our order for drinks, and Billie Stormzy has apple juice. I take a tea. Rihanna Gaga comes in, her friend has not arrived yet. Billie Stormzy insisted we'd sit at a small table for two, and Rihanna Gaga sits down at another small table for two next to it. After a while, I tell her I see her friend, and she runs out side, returning with her friend and the friend's mother. We chat a little, then the mother leaves. A waiter - also Italian - brings the menu. Rihanna Gaga has a pasta carbonara, Billie Stormzy takes a pizza margherita, and I, expecting that I will probably end up eating quite a bit of the pizza and pasta, order a selection of antipasta for myself and Rihanna Gaga's friend, who says she's not very hungry. After taking our order, the friendly waiter asks us to move to a larger table. I'm happy to oblige - the larger table comes with a couch that surrounds the entire table, which is a nice way to sit with three children. Billie Stormzy, however, protests, and Rihanna Gaga - who's favourite question is always "why" - demands a explanation. I tell her there is none, but she keeps returning to it: why does the waiter want us to move to this table. I tell her it's not polite to talk about people who are present (the waiter is standing next to our table) as if they are not, and then she shifts her attention to asking why Billie Stormzy does not want to move to this table. I tell her I don't know - sometimes things are the way they are - but she seems unhappy with not understanding.

 After this short, rowdy moment, the kids return to being very pleasant. Billie Stormzy has been sitting on my lap since we arrived, and is talking in a wise manner about the future and the past. One day, he will be four. Now he is three, and he used to be younger. Two. One. Zero.
"But before," he says, "I was seventy."
"You were?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
"Yes. I was seventy once," he says. I ponder his vocabulary, which is really quite extraordinatory. Which three year old says "once"? (Or, as he does in Dutch, "ooit".) He probably picked this use of the word up somewhere, and is repeating it without truly knowing what he is saying. He does this sometimes, and it can be quite funny. Like his use of the word "unfortunately", when he announces, in a serious voice, looking at the clock, that "it is now four o'clock, unfortunately". Or, "that car is blue, unfortunately."

The food is served by La Galleria's friendly and efficient staff. The pizza and the pasta are, as can be expected from an Italian restaurant, delicious. Billie Stormzy and Rihanna Gaga agree: he eats the pizza with relish, although I have to fold the pieces so that he thinks he is only eating the dough, because if he sees the tomato or cheese, he refuses to eat; and she repeatedly says the spaghetti is "so good!" The friend has a slice of pizza and agrees it's nice. The antipasta however, I'm afraid to say, are a bit uninspired. There's some nice, big olives, bits of parmezan cheese and ham that taste good (although nothing amazing), but also two types of shrimps, mozzerella and dried tomaties that taste quite bland. The kids sample a few things - the ham is quite popular with Rihanna Gaga and her friend has some shrimps - but leave most of it to me. Together with about one third of the pasta and a quarter pizza, this means I have quite a large lunch.

Billie Stormzy is no longer sitting on my lap, and tries to run around, then jump, then try to climb over the couch. I tell him to stop doing that, so he slides to the floor and start running around a bit. He remains close to the table, so I let him because he won't bother other guests. There are a few other people, mostly older couples. Having finished eating, the girls chat about school and what they did during the Christmas break. They're getting restless, eager to go skating, and Billie Stormzy is starting to lose his patience. It's clearly time to move on.

The Coffee Company

The Christmas break is almost over - for the kids, that is. Me, I did not have much of a break anyway, working part-time through most of it because there's simply too much stuff I still need to do. I'm starting up a new research project - it's small and something I'm doing mostly because there are a few literary works I enjoyed and wanted to write about. Every once in a while I indulge in something like this, going back to my roots as a literary scholar, but as always, with any research project big or small, it feels as if I have to discover how to write an academic paper all over again. Of course, once I get into it, I know how to do it, but on the outset there is always a sense that I won't be able to pull it off this time. In any case, this one need to be ready by the end of the month, and I should have started with it a long time ago, so there wasn't much time to rest throughout the Christmas break. 

One of the places I've done much of my work for the past month, is the local Coffee Company. A Dutch chain of coffee bars - in fact, as far as I know, the first chain like this - Coffee Company always offers a pleasant place to hang out or work. I remember how, almost two decades ago, I used to spend a lot of time at a Coffee Company in the centre of Amsterdam, where I lived at the time, and it was very much my first encounter with the coffee bar culture that has now become such an integral part of modern life. Apart from the fact that I love how their places are designed - modern and comfortable; white walls, wooden panels, black furntiture and comfortable Chesterfields - they actually serve a good coffee. That sets them apart, of course, from the most obiquitous coffee bar chain of all, Starbuck's. I know it's fashionable - and clichéd - to complain about the bad coffee at Starbuck's, but for me it's not so much that they serve poor quality coffee, but that they pretend they don't. It's as if McDonalds would make it look as if they're serving an exquisite cuisine - they don't, and they don't act as if they do, and that's fine. It's that pretense, that banging on about high quality beans and selection processes, and whatnot, and then serving absolutely mediocre products that really annoys me. 

In any case, not so with the Coffee Company, so I am happy we have one basically just around the corner and down the street from where we live. This morning, however, I'm not here to work, but to have an early Saturday morning breakfast with my kids. Billie Stormzy is all excited, because he was here with his mum already yesterday, and got a piece of chocolate then, which he really enjoyed. My daughter, Rihanna Gaga, is also looking forwards to the delights she knows they serve here - all kinds of cakes and cookies that she loves to sample. She's on her rollerskates. We have to wait in line, and they're checking out the cakes and pies on display. Rihanna Gaga picks a chocolate cake and, of course, Billie Stormzy wants the same as his sister. He also wants what he had yesterday: a Tony Chocolonely chocolate bar. And, as always when we are in a bar, restaurant or café, he wants an apple juice. His sister also has her usual beverage: water. Me, I take a special offer they have,consisting of a coffee, orange juice and croissant. The cheerful barrista takes our order, and I tell her I love the song that's currently playing. She looks it up for me: it's a band called the Yot Club. I've never heard of them, but they play the kind of reverb-y dream pop that I love and that they always seem to play on early Saturdays and Sundays in places like this.

Rihanna Gaga picks the table, and we sit down. The chocolate cakes, apple juice, water and chocolate bar can be taken immediately, as well as my croissant. My orange juice needs to be pressed, and my coffee also takes time. The kids start eating their chocolate cakes, while I doodle in a small book. About a week ago, I started a series of drawings in this book that my partner brought as a souvenir from India about 17 years ago. It's a very pretty book but I never quite knew what to do with it. My handwriting is terrible, so using it as a notebook would just spoil it, especially because it has no lines, so whatever I'd have written in it would have been unreadable. Then, I got an idea. Billie Stormzy loves to go to my bookshelves and take out random books. Why? To look at the page numbers. So, I thought, what if I'd make him a book in which each page only contained a number? And then I'd make each number a mini-artwork. The book contains hundred pages, so that means a hundred small artworks, some cheesy, some boring, some quite badly drawn, but some, if I say so myself, really quite pretty. My partner and daughter have joined me, and have drawn a few numbers already, too. I'm up to 42 now, which I am drawing as a painting hanging on a wall. I enjoy coming up what the room looks like, designing wallpaper and adding furniture. 

Meanwhile, the orange juice and coffee are ready. Rihanna Gaga is off outside, because she wants to rollerskate on the large square in front of the Coffee Company. You see, this isn't a regular Coffee Company: it's part of the complex that forms the so-called Circus Theatre, a large building in Scheveningen where they stage big shows. Nowadays, that's mostly Disney Musicals that run for months, but originally, this was an actual circus. The building is from around 1900 and really quite pretty, with undulating walls and a large dome. The Coffee Company is situated in a circular side-building, with the walls mostly made of glass, so it's very light inside. In front of the Circus Theatre there is a large square, that consists of several slopes, which makes it an ideal place to rollerskate or skateboard. 

Billie Stormzy continues to eat his chocolate cake bit by bit, while I keep drawing. After a while, he's finished. Rihanna Gaga returns and suggests we play a game of Uno. That is very much to Billie Stormzy's taste - he cannot play the game, but he really enjoys sitting on my lap and keeping score of all the numbers that pass by while Rihanna Gaga and I put down our cards one after the other.  With the dream pop on the sound system, there's a wonderful weekend feel to the place. There are a few other customers, mostly older couples reading newspapers or chatting. I also notice that barristas that work here on other days drop by to chat with their colleague on duty - this is something I've seen more often whenever I am here. It must be really nice to be part of this team if you come to hang out on your day off - they always look like they're enjoying each other's company a lot.

Rihanna Gaga complains I'm not playing according to the rules, but I suspect she's changing them whenever she sees fit. After a while, I return to drawing - I've drawn the number 43 as if it were printed on the side of a can of softdrink and I am now drawing 44 as candles on a birthday cake. Rihanna Gaga and Billie Stormzy are playing together, laughing and chasing each other. As the room is circular, they can circumnavigate a central island that consists of a 360 degree couch, around which a series of tables and chairs are placed; it's at one of these tables that we're sitting. After a while, I repeat to Rihanna Gaga something I said earlier: that I don't want her to go rollerskating inside the place. She complies and we sit at the table again. The song that was playing when we placed our order plays once more and I make a mental note to look up the Yot Club when we get home. I've ordered a second coffee - a cappucino with oatmilk, like the first one - and am finishing it quickly, because it's clear the kids have had enough of sitting around and are getting a bit rowdy. First, Billie Stormzy still needs to go to the toilet, and Rihanna Gaga disappears for a while after that - it turns out she's also on the toilet, not rollerskating around outside. Then, we're ready go, leaving for whatever the final weekend of the Christmas break has to offer us.

Bab Tuma

It's the Christmas break and we're taking it easy. The week before the break started, a chain of events led to disaster. First, as I often do, I took the kids to the Gemeentemuseum, a wonderful museum in The Hague where every Sunday there is an atelier where kids can do art workshops. My daughter has been going here for five years, and always has a lot of fun making stuff. It's for kids of five years or older, but there is a space in the basement of the museum, a kind of labyrinth with artworks and interactive multimedia spaces specificaly for kids, so I thought that while my daughter would be enjoying herself making art, Billie Stormzy and I could go downstairs to enjoy the art there. Then my partner decided to join us instead of going shopping for the week's groceries and it turned out the atelier was open for families, not just kids, so we could all go and be creative (although Billie Stormzy soon tired of that and I took him downstairs anyway). Then when we returned, we were slow to do so, and my partner decided to cook and watch the football worldcup finale, then do the groceries afterwards while I brought the kids to bed. 

Except that this only turned out to be the most crazy worldcup of the century, with Argentina leading 2-0 against France up until the 71st minute (which was pretty much around when we started watching), then within less then two minutes, Franc suddenly managed to stage a comeback and it was 2-2 for the remainder of the regular playing time. We all got absorbed by the game - although, it has to be said, Billie Stormzy was mostly absorbed by the digital clock on the top of the screen ticking away the game time - as it moved into its first and second prolongment, then was decided by penalties. Argentina won.

Anyway, all of that led to my partner going to the supermarket when it was already quite late, and we somehow missed the urgent warnings telling people to stay inside, as a sudden temperature drop meant that the roads had become incredibly slippery. I myself had already fallen twice that week while riding my bike, and unfortunately, that happened to my partner too - and she suddenly found herself standing in my daughter's bedroom, where I was reading a story with my daughter, not knowing how she got there, but knowing she had fallen on her  head. One look at her told me this was an emergency - and telling my daughter to wait for a while as I sorted things out, I started to make frantic phone calls to get medical help. Of course, we were not the only ones in an emergency, so it took about 45 minutes - during which, as I was waiting while being put on hold, I also managed to finish my bedtime reading for my daughter, so that at least she went to sleep quietly, without really realising the gravity of the situation - before an ambulance arrived and took my partner to the hospital.  

Fortunately things looked worse than they ended up being, although my partner still suffered a slight concussion and a small skull fracture, meaning she had to take a rest and I had to take care of the household, the kids, and organising an emergency hire for my department at the same time (an emergency hire that was necessary because we were going into the winter break without a lecturer for around one third of our courses, despite the fact I had been warning about this since August, but the tardiness of everyone involved meant we were still left with only four days to organise job interviews and pick our candidate, just before the entire university closed down for Christmas). Oh, and I also had to teach my course in Amsterdam. 

Needless to say I was knackered when the holidays finally started, and not really in the mood for Christmas at all. With lots of work left over, the break wasn't really a real holiday either. However, after New Year's Eve, I am now taking at least a few days off, and am slowly winding down. Before the New Year, I visited a family member in the south of the country with the kids - for the first time in years. It's one of the long tail effects of Covid. Although the Netherlands never was in full lockdown, like in France, Italy or Spain, where people weren't even allowed to leave their houses or visit people, what did happen was that we, like most people, made the circle of people we would visit rather small: immediate family (parents and siblings), that was about it for a few years. And with bigger gatherings, such as family parties also mostly off, in some cases it has been more than three years that I have seen more distant friends and family, people I would normally also only see only once or twice a year, but who have now almost disappeared off my rader. So it was really nice to make a visit again to this dear family member.

In any case, on our way back, we passed by Rotterdam, and when we stopped at its central station, Billie Stormzy asked where we were. "Rotterdam," I told him. "I want to get off here," he announced. I told him we couldn't, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, and as we proceeded towards The Hague, he was first very angry about the fact that we did not get off in Rotterdam, then very sad. And in the days that followed, he kept coming back to the subject of Rotterdam, and how much he wanted to go there. Finally, I gave in and I promised I'd take him to Rotterdam on Tuesday, much to his delight. Although he sometimes got grumpy because he did not want to wait until Tuesday - he knows the days of the week, so he also knew he still had to wait a few days, as I made my promise on Firday - he counted down the days excitedly and this morning, one of the first things he said was: "We're going to Rotterdam!" 

His sister, Rihanna Gaga, was less happy. As my partner was going to work for the first time since her fall, she had to come with us. With her usual sense for drama, she announced this was going to be "THE.WORST.DAY.EVER" and there was much crying and shouting while she got ready to join us for our trip. Then, my partner decided she would rather join us than work, and we all went to take the tram, and then the train, to go to Rotterdam. It was only in the tram that I started to think about what we could actually do in Rotterdam - and I suddenly remembered the Market Hall, a crazy building close to the centre, basically consisting of two apartment blocks bending towards each other to form an enormous tube, creating a giant covered market hall - with the windows of the apartments looking out over the restaurants and stalls below. 

This did mean we had to get out at Rotterdam Blaak, a minor station, and Billie Stormzy got suspicious when I told him we would be getting off at the second Rotterdam station, the one after Rotterdam Central Station. "I want to get off at Rotterdam One!" he demanded. "Yes," I told him, "funnily enough, Rotterdam One comes after Rotterdam Two. So first we pass Rotterdam Two, where we won't get off, then comes Rotterdam One, where we will get off." To my relief, he accepted this mind trick. "Is this Rotterdam Two?" he asked, as we stopped in Rotterdam Central Station. I nodded, "yes, and the next one is Rotterdam One, where we will get off."

And so we did. As we exited the underground station of Rotterdam Blaak, we arrived on the Kolk square, with its famous post-modern houses, a series of tilted cubes on top of massive poles, and a strange tower that looks vaguely like something out of a kid's toy set. On the other side, and right in front of the entrance of the railway station, the Market Hall towered massively over the square, and the open air market in front of it. 

Rihanna Gaga was duly impressed, saying she was glad after all she came with us to Rotterdam. Billie Stormzy, however, remained mostly unfazed. "Is this Rotterdam?" he asked. I assured him it was, and he happily trodded towards the Market Hall. We entered and had a first walk around, taking in the scents, colours and sounds of the busy place, with stalls selling spices, candy, and all kinds of exotic stuff. What engaged Billie Stormzy most, however, was a large screen over a passage leading underground, on which an art animation was showing. A short loop of balls moving through what looked like a brightly coloured abstract representation of a pinball machine. Billie Stormzy was endlessly fascinated and didn't want to move. His sister also seemed to be enjoying herself enough to remain there for several minutes. Finally, I managed to get them moving by saying I wanted to go to the Chinese supermarket behind us. The kids followed me, as I checked the shelves, hoping I could score some good instant noodles, my favourite lunch. Unfortunately, there weren't too many kinds that I liked, although they did had a nice coconut cream version that is hard to come by. As I walked towards the counter, I spotted those typical Asian plastic statues of cats moving their paws and remembered Billie Stormzy had been fascinated by one he saw a few days ago. I picked one up and asked Rihanna Gaga whether she also wanted one, to which she enthusiastically replied she did. Nice, I thought: a souvenir from Rotterdam for both of them. 

Leaving the supermarket, Billie Stormzy spotted a stall selling ramen soups that displayed plastic bottles with fruit juice on their counter. "Is that strawberry? I want one!" he said. I looked around - the place was clearly open, but there was no-one to help us. I remembered, however, that I saw a place called Freshly Chopped, just at the entrance, that sold smoothies. So we all walked back to that one. Arriving there, I ordered a strawberry smoothie, and, suddenly realising I had completely forgotten to have breakfast, a banana-peanutbutter smoothie for myself. As we were waiting for our order, Rihanna Gaga started tugging my sleeve - she'd discovered a place selling bubble tea, something we both love, although we also both seem to love the idea of bubble tea more than the actual thing, most of the time. I walked with her to the place where she'd seen this drink, and ordered the brown sugar soya milk tea I knew she liked best. Unfortunately, they didn't have tapioca balls, which both Rihanna Gaga and I prefer. The tea was made right away, and after I handed it to Rihanna Gaga, we both returned to the smoothie stall, where Billie Stormzy was throwing a hissy fit over the fact that his smoothie was taking its time, with the stall taking its name very seriously - the ingredients were indeed freshly chopped before our eyes. Billie Stormzy, however, would clearly have prepared to just have been handed a plastic bottle with factory-generated strawberry juice, or anything sweet and pink-looking, really, and was throwing one tantrum after the other. Finally, and much to everybody's relieve, the smoothies arrived. 

We sat down at a place that explicitly and on more than one sign stressed that it was solely reserved for customers of a place where we had not bought any of our drinks, and, as these things go, Billie Stormzy was much more interested in Rihanna Gaga's bubble tea, while Rihanna Gaga preferred Billie Stormzy's strawberry smoothie. No one was really into my peanut banana smoothie, which was fine by me, as it did indeed provide me, as I had hoped, with a good breakfast. "And now I want lunch!" Billie Stormzy announced. "How about pizza," I said, and he agreed that that was a good idea. Having already successfully tricked him into accepting Rotterdam Blaak as Rotterdam proper, I thought I could definitely have a go at making him accept the lovely looking Turkish pide I saw somewhere as we were walking around the Market Hall, as a pizza. And indeed, he said he very much would like that pizza, when I pointed it out to him when we had found the place I had seen: Bab Tuma . My partner said she'd share one with him, and my heart sank when I realised that the only vegetarian option was a feta cheese pide - I had my doubts whether the picky Billie Stormzy would like the taste of that. 

In any case, we ordered the pide and sat down, then Billie Stormzy announced he needed to go to the toilet. I took him with me to go and look for one, and much to his delight, it was in the underground passage with the screen featuring the pinball animation. Back at Bab Tuma, my partner and Rihanna Gaga had ordered lekkerbek, the fried fish that I really had had a bit too much already lately - Rihanna Gaga mostly for the fries I had promised I would buy for her in Rotterdam. The pide arrived, and much to my surprise, Billie Stormzy loved it, eagerly eating the little bits I fed him. Rihanna Gaga, meanwhile, was being her usual chaotic self, knocking over things on the table, dipping her hair and her sleeve in the sauces that came with the lekkerbek. When I frowned at her, she said: "I just cannot sit still, that is my problem!" I could only smile at such an apt self-description and gave her a hug, telling her that it certainly wasn't always a problem. Billie Stormzy decided that sitting still was also not for him, at least not today, and he started running up and down the passage alongside Bab Tuma, shouting "tag" whenever he reached the other side and slapped the wall with his hand. Then, he'd run back to where I was sitting to get his next bit of pide, or steal some more of Rihanna Gaga's fries. 

I myself had a few chunks of fried fish, some fries and some bits of pide, not being too hungry after my breakfast smoothie. Somewhat disappointed I would not get to eat at one of the great looking Asian food stalls around here, I accepted that this was Billie Stormzy's day out. Maybe some other time. Next to us, a large Italian family had settled, being very Italian in all the clichéd ways: loud and chatty, clearly enjoying each other's company, with lots of dramatic gestures, they were as entertaining to me as the pinball animation had been to my kids. 

Then, Billie Stormzy announced it was time to go home. This was a bit of a problem, since my partner was taking Rihanna Gaga to a large circus in The Hague, but only had to be there at three, and if we would return now, it would still be much too early. We first decided we could walk to Rotterdam Central Station, a 20 minute walk according to Google Map, but this plan was abondoned after it took us about 5 minutes to walk some twenty meters, and the kids already started whining. Instead, we returned to Rotterdam Blaak station. I had already spotted a stall selling roasted chestnuts next to the entrance, and remembered how I used to eat these a lot when I was staying in Istanbul during the winter of 2010/2011 to work on my PhD thesis while living at the Dutch Institute. I ordered a small container and the chestnuts were roasted in front of our eyes - Rihanna Gaga loved them, and the three of us together finished the container in the train back to The Hague, Billie Stormzy showing no interest.

He was interested, however, in the railway stations we passed, at each stop saying he would like to get out here. At The Hague Moerwijk, I gave in, having checked on my phone that close to this station it would be possible to jump on the tram that would take us back to Scheveningen. My partner and Rihanna Gaga continued to The Hague Central Station instead. Moerwijk turned out to be the most run-down part of the city I had ever seen - the 10 minute walk to the tram stop took us through a dillipidated neighbourhood, with front gardens filled with trash, surrounded by crumbling walls. Everything seemed to either be broken, or about to break. Billie Stormzy, however, enjoyed the walk tremendously, calling out the house numbers as we passed them. 

When we arrived at the tram stop, the first thing we saw was a tram going the other way. The little one loudly exclaimed he wanted to take that one, but it had gone already. Truth be told, I would have been fine with travelling to Vrederust - which is where that tram was going - wherever that was, but he had changed his mind again already. Five minutes later, we were on our way home. 

Veni Vidi Pizza

There's only one place left at De Pier that we haven't visited, and today we're giving it a try - mainly because nothing else is open. We will need to find a new roaming ground in the new year. As always, Billie Stormzy is happy to take a walk around De Pier. This morning, he went to pre-school for the first time on a Friday. We took the decision to send him to pre-school second day per week for two reasons. First, it gives me some extra hours to work per week, which comes in handy because I started teaching an extra course at a university of applied sciences - partly because this offered me the opportunity to do something I love, namely teaching students how to become good storytellers; but also partly because this may lead to a larger position there, which I am quite interested in, becoming more and more tired of the chaos of the department I am leading at my current job. The second reason, however, is that Billie Stormzy really loves pre-school. It gives him a taste of what school is like, with lots of opportunities to learn. Especially the fact that his love for numbers and counting is taken very seriously here, makes him happy to go there more often. 

It is becoming quite clear that his mind is a bit special. His amazing talent for numbers, to remember numbers in different languages, and to remember series of numbers is getting him noticed. When he suddenly started multiplying with 9 in class a few weeks ago, his pre-school teacher asked us whether she could ask a specialist at the school where his sister goes to, and where he will most likely go to himself as well, for help to keep him happy and challenged. His mother and I will speak to this specialist next week to discuss possibilities with her as well. Oblivious to all this, but perfectly happy, Billie Stormzy is now walking with me through the main hallway of De Pier. I told him we were going to have pizza, which he showed no interest in, telling me instead he wanted French fries. Now, however, he says: "I've got an idea! Shall we have pizza?" I reply that this is a great idea, and we walk to the place where I was planning to go to anyway, Veni Vidi Pizza.  

"Is this where they have pizza?" Billie Stormzy asks enthusiastically when I tell him we've arrived. The girl behind the counter smiles and says that they certainly have pizza, to which the little one responds with a "Yes!" shouted from the top of his lungs. "In fact," the girl says, I need to check whether the kitchen is ready." She glances over her shoulder, just as a man appears in the doorway. The man nods when she asks him whether we can order, and I'm relieved that I don't have to disappoint Billie Stormzy. I order a pizza funghi and a Westmalle Tripel for myself. "And an apple juice!" Billie Stormzy shouts, without turning down the volume. "And an apple juice," I tell the girl. She gives me the drinks and tells me the pizza will be served when ready. 

We sit down in a corner behind the cubicle where we placed our order. Billie Stormzy climbs on my lap and together we gaze out of the window. I look at the waves breaking on the sand and people walking on the beach. Billie Stormzy is looking at something else: the large Ferris wheel of De Pier. Or, more precisely, he's looking at the numbers printed on the cabins of that Ferris wheel, saying them out loud whenever they appear. His mood remains upbeat, and he's extremely cuddly, putting up his hand every once in a while to reach behind him and stroke my cheek. 

Then, the pizza is brought. "Those, I don't want," Billie Stormzy says, pointing at the champignons on teh pizza. He is, however, more than happy to have the rest of the pizza: the dough, tomatoes and cheese. I feed him bits and every once in a while I manage to smuggle a bit of mushroom hidden in them. The pizza tastes great: a rich, full flavour, with lots of garlic. However, it does fail one important test for pizzas: the dough is extremely flaccid, to the point where it is impossible to pick up a slice and eat it. The whole thing just sort of drips as I pick it up, soiling my hands. 

As always, the songs played on De Pier are from the eighties: power ballads to start with, but soon Madonna and Michael Jackson are at it again. There is something quite weird about this insistence on that particular period in time by whomever picks the music here. I wonder whether it is a conscious choice. One suspects it is, given that De Pier is filled with arcade machines from around the same years - this is one of the reasons why Billie Stormzy likes it here so much: he loves strolling past these machines, looking at their flickering lights, listening to their beeping sounds, and pressing their buttons. 

When we've finished the pizza, I sip my beer while Billie Stormzy wanders around. Suddenly, and almost out of nowhere, he says: let's go home. I ask him what he wants to do. The reply is the usual one whenever I ask him what he will do when we get home: "Listen to songs" With that, he means he will go to our old soundsystem, put on a cd of children's songs, and repeatedly press play and pause to watch the digits on the little screen progress. Once he has decided he wants to go, his mood swings. Like any three year old, he has zero patience and he finds it hard to accept that I still need to finish my bear. Soon he is pulling at my hand, shouting that he wants to leave. I take him on my lap again, warn him to be more quiet, and he sits there grumbling while I take my last few sips of beer a. "You're ready now?" he says, as soon as he sees my glass is empty. I nod and he jumps up. I put on his coat and as we walk away from Veni Vidi Pizza, he completely forgets he was in a hurry only seconds ago. It will take us a while before we reach De Pier's exit, as he needs to check every number, and press every button of the arcade machines we pass.

Simonis op de Boulevard

 It's a very beautiful, sunny day at the Scheveningen Boulevard, surprisingly mild for the fourth of November. It's Friday and Billie Stormzy's big sister, Rihanna Gaga, has a day off from school, a study day they call it, meaning a day for the teachers to organise workshops and meetings. Since Friday is also the day that Billie Stormzy doesn't go to daycare, so I was going to spend the day with him anyway, it means no arrangements needed to be made. We've been having a lazy morning together: I made small banana pancakes for the children, which I often do when I have the time. Then, a friend of my daughter came over to play. It's a girl from her class that she's recently been playing more with than usual, after the friend fell out with the girl she usually plays with. True to her character, Rihanna Gaga didn't mind being second choice, as long as she has someone to play with. Since then, they've become regular playmates, especially because the girl lives within walking distance from us, across a street that Rihanna Gaga has been allowed to cross for about half a year now. It's interesting to see how, as she grows up, her world is getting larger, or at least the world in which she can move independently: from the courtyard at which we and six neighbours live, to the street, to our block, and now spanning three blocks. It's, of course, different for Billie Stormzy, although he is allowed to circle the block with his big sister.   

I told the girls we could go to the boulevard. Although it was still early - around 10:30 - I was hoping some places would be open, but when we arrived, none of the ones we haven't visited yet were in business, despite the websites of several announcing they would be. After checking a few places, I noticed Simonis op de Boulevard was, actually, opening up. "Let's go there," I said. "Please let's not," Rihanna Gaga sighed. She was remembering a trip to the boulevard from a few weeks ago with her grandparents, my mother's parents, who were visiting us for Billie Stormzy's birthday. Back then, we had to wait for an insanely long time before our order arrived. However, back then there were also dozens of people waiting together with us, and the inexperienced staff seemed to be loosing track of the orders. Right now, it looks as if we'd be the only customers, so what could possibly go wrong? I decide try our luck. 

One of several places owned by the Simonis family around Scheveningen, Simonis op de Boulevard offers all kinds of fish-based fast food: fish sandwiches, fish salads, and fish menus, with fried fish and French fries. Rihanna Gaga orders a herring sandwich, I pick a menu with fried octopus rings, French fries and some salad. The girl picks a Kibbeling menu with fried fish, French fries and salad. Since the menus are quite large, I point at an example that is exhibited on the counter. "That's what you will get," I tell her, "are you sure your appetite is big enough for that?" She replies that it absolutely is.The kids pick their drinks too: apple juice for Billie Stormzy, ice tea for Rihanna Gaga's friend, and plain water for Rihanna Gaga. We sit down at one of the tables in the small niche next to the counter of Simonis op de Boulevard. Billie Stormzy climbs on my lap as I sit on a chair, and the girls settle on the couch on the other side of the table, chatting about school. They drink their drinks, and Rihanna Gaga is already munching on her fish sandwich. The menus will have to be prepared. Rihanna Gaga is talking about our holidays in Tunisia, then for some reason starts to discuss other North African countries. I suddenly notice, much to my bemusement, that she is mixing up Morocco with Hungary. I'm bemused, because it is an incredibly unlikely mix-up, yet one that I myself also often make. Did she somehow pick this up from me, or is mixing up these two countries somehow not so random after all?

Simonis op de Boulevard is a no frills affair. Plastic furniture, some sea-related decoration, and a radio station playing hit music. Most seating places are on the terrace in front of it, but despite the good weather, it's a bit windy and the niche is more insulated. There are a few more customers, and the woman behind the counter shouts the number of the order whenever it is ready. Billie Stormzy has noted with interest that we have order number 13, and when this number is shouted, he jumps up enthusiastically, crying "Thirteen! Thirteen! Yes!" 

The calamari rings and French fries make for quite a heavy breakfast. Billie Stormzy is helping with the French fries, but is not interesting in anything else. Rihanna Gaga's friend has lost interest in her menu after just a few bits of fish and French fries. Luckily, I don't have to raise other people's kids, but I do tell her I advise her to not order something she's not going to eat next time, as this is a bit of a waste. Between us, we still manage to eat the larger part of the two menus, although I certainly won't need lunch anymore after this breakfast. The food is definitely fast food - greasy, filling - but also well-prepared and tasty.

At a certain moment, Billie Stormzy, who is circling the table to pick French fries from my plate and dip them in mayonaise, gets terribly worked up. As usual when he is angry about something, he starts with shaking his hips and arms rythmically, as if he is dancing vigorously, then he moans, increasingly louder, until he's shouting. I tell him to calm down and tell me what's wrong. It's difficult to understand at first, but it turns out he disagrees with the fact that I have shifted the plate in such a way that the French fries are now easier for him to reach. When I shift the plate back to how it first was positioned - so that he has to reach over the entire plate to reach the French fries, his sleeve coming dangerously close to the mayonaise - all is well again. 

The girls have gone off to play tag, running around in front of Simonis op de Boulevard, much to the chagrin of Billie Stormzy. "They should not be acting crazy," he complains. "Why not?" I ask. "Just like that," he tells me, "They should not be acting crazy." A few minutes later, he has left me to join the girls in their game. When I've finished what I can eat from the two plates, I get up myself as well. Time to leave.

Pâtisserie Gourmandise Aéroport

Travelling with two kids is no easy feat and it is made worse by the fact that I am tired and tense. I don't know what it is, lack of sleep maybe, because I haven't slept very well during our stay in Tunisia. Which isn't to say I had a bad time, because I did. It really was like a warm bath to be back and see all those familiar places and faces again. The kids really enjoyed themselves too, and genuinely seemed to like being around each other for such a long time. Rihanna Gaga is great at keeping Billie Stormzy entertained, singing songs with him, reading him books and generally keeping him cheerful. The little one, in his turn, was surprisingly easy throughout the week, especially considering that he is not used to travelling at all. But most of the times, he was having a great time, not in the least because he was with us all the time. He clearly loves it when the whole family is together.

We woke up early this morning, having ordered a taxi to make it on time for our flight at 10:30. The hotel in Sidi Bou Said where we are staying consists of a large courtyard, with the hotel rooms around it. Breakfast is served int he courtyard, and the weather was nice enough to make that really enjoyable. The breakfast was the same very morning: boiled eggs, chocolate buns, bread and jam, lemonade and coffee or tea. As we ate our breakfast, there would always be some cats around, lounging on the chairs in the courtyard, or begging for some food. Rihanna Gaga loved the fact that there were so many cats and she would always be trying to play with them, or with the ones in the alley just outside the hotel, and I was forever telling her to wash her hands after petting them. Billie Stormzy, however, kept his distance. The cats were nice too watch, but he didn't like it when they came too close. 

Then the taxi came, and we were off to the airport, driving down the road that I had travelled on so often in the year that I commuted between Tunisia and the Netherlands. The airport has been done up, looking much nicer than it did back then, less run down. It all went quite smoothly, until I ended up into an argument with the lady checking us in, who told us our suitcase was too heavy to be accepted as carry on luggage. It wasn't so much the message - fair enough, and we could easily distribute some of its heavier contents among the other bags - but the incredibly rude and haughty tone in which she delivered it. That, and my own tense mood, I guess. In the end, she didn't even weigh the suitcase for the second time, so we could even have spared ourselves the effort of unpacking it and redistributing its contents. 

The lines in front of customs were long, as usual, and Billie Stormzy was difficult to manage while we waited, running around and trying to sneak into places he should not be. As we went through customs, I realised that what we did back in 2015 - staying in Tunisia many more days a year than allowed on a tourist visa - would not be possible anymore, since stamps have been replaced with computers and every entry and departure is now processed digitally. In fact, back then, it wasn't even our wish to stay in the country on a tourist visa - however, the process to get a residence permit was so unclear and bureaucratic that by the time we made any progress in it, we were already leaving again. 

By the time we made it through the second security check, I felt quite relieved; keeping check of all our bags, and two lively kids, while also negotiating whatever was expected next by customs officials and airport staff was exhausting. Just before we left, Rihanna Gaga decided she wanted to take a huge monkey doll with her. That came out of leftfield - I never knew she was particularly attached to it, and it was too big to fit into our bags, but as always, once Rihanna Gaga had something in her head, she wouldn't take no for an answer. That's something she has in common with her brother, for sure. I wasn't keen on the monkey joining us, as it meant one more item that could get misplaced or lost on the trip from the Netherlands to Tunisia and back again, but right now, the monkey was not just trouble. It also was a great source of entertainment for the kids, as it had to go through scanners together with the luggage. My partner, always brilliant at giving life to stuffed animals, made a big show about the monkey not wanting to go through the scanner and wanting bananas, and that kept the kids entertained throughout. 

Anyway, with everything going so smoothly, we were well on time, so much so, in fact, that we could sit down for a drink. Almost immediately after customs, there is Pâtisserie Gourmandise Aéroport. There always was a place to drink here, but I didn't remember it like this: all new and shiney, very chique in that typically Arab way, which means lots of white, beige and gold, with some dark red thrown in. Back then, it was black and red, old and worn. However, like lots of places in Tunisia, it had a battered Italian espresso machine and good coffee was made with it. That is one thing that hasn't changed, although the machines they now had behind the counter did not look battered anymore. My partner sat down with Rihanna Gaga, as I stood in line with Billie Stormzy on my arm. They had smoothies and juices too, so I bought some kind of apple-kiwi juice for him, and cake too, for the kids to share. Back at the table, Rihanna Gaga wanted her own cake, so I got back to the counter, Billie Stormzy still on my arm. He didn't want to wait in line again, however, and told me he was going back to his mother. 

When I got back to the table, my partner and Rihanna Gaga looked confused. "Where's Billie Stormzy?" they asked.  Nobody knew, and he was nowhere to be seen. Panic. We split and spread out throug the halls of Tunis Carthage Aeroport, and not before long I had found him. He was enjoying himself at the security check, where he walked repeatedly through the gates, observed by amused Tunisians. Apparently he was fascinated by the lamps that flashed green and red when someone walked through. I picked him up - it seemed as if nobody had drawn the conclusion that this kid was without parents, everybody probably assuming he was someone else's kid, as he was completely at ease and not, in any way, looking lost. 

Much to everybody's relief, I returned with him to our table and we finished our coffee. Despite the shock of the little one suddenly disappearing, I was now feeling less tense than earlier. On the other side of the passageway that Pâtisserie Gourmandise Aéroport looks out over, there was a duty free shop, the sight of which made me smile as I remembered how I once gave a storytelling training to the staff that was setting up the company for these duty free shops. As said, our week in Tunisia had been a great success. For Rihanna Gaga, the reunion with the country where she spent two formative years at a point in her childhood that she may not remember too much consciously, but which still seemed to stir something inside her. So much so that she decided she wanted to learn to read and write the Arabic alphabet, and we bought some books yesterday. It is also nice that Billie Stormzy is now somehow a little bit part of our Tunisian adventure, by visiting the places we used to live with us. We've already agreed that we will most probably visit again. Somehow, in those two years back then, a bond has been formed with that will not go away.