It's early morning, 1 January 2015 and it seems like everybody's sleeping as Rihanna Gaga and I walk to the beach - which is about fifteen minutes by foot from where we live. The area is simply called The Beach - it's right behind a new Marina that was created over the past eight years. In fact, everything here - from the large towers in which we live, to the strip of skyskrapers a bit more towards the sea, to the entire resort-like part that comprises The Beach - has only existed for a few years.
Besides a real beach, The Beach consists of a mall, cinemas, hotels and a long boulevard lined with restaurants. We were originally headed for a place called Eggspectations, but are told there's a waiting lists. We don't like waiting, so we walk on to La Postreria. We are sat right next to the road that dwindles alongside the beach itself. It's a great spot for people gazing. If the area where we live seemed as quiet as one would expect on New Year's morning, The Beach is already buzzing with activity. People from an enormous range of countries and cultures pass by.
La Postreira is originally a Spanish restaurant, but its menu is broadly Meditterean and European. Like all restaurants around here, it's designed with attention to detail, with nice white wrought iron furniture. Rihanna Gaga is in a good mood. Yesterday, we woke her up around midnight and took her to The Beach as well, to watch the fireworks. She was more interested in the lit balloons that were released at midnight, but when she saw that you were supposed to point at the fireworks and say "oooh!" she enthusiastically joined in doing so - even when there were no fireworks anymore. Now, she's playing with the sugar bags and pointing at people with strollers shouting 'baby!' after which she puts her finger on her lips and says "shhh!" In her mind, all babies do is sleep.Behind us, people are watching the films they made on their mobile phones of the fireworks. Indeed, yesterday night I noticed that around 60% of the people in the crowd - if not more - were filming the fireworks rather than just watching them. Back then I thought "But why? Nobody ever watches that, right?" Apparently, I was wrong.
La Postreira has several set breakfasts - American, English, Healthy and Arabic - and we choose the Arabic option. It consists of something entirely different than what we had at the Sheikh Mohammed Bin Rashid Centre for Cultural Understanding last Monday. This is more Levantine, the kind of breakfast you'd expect in Syria, Lebanon, Jordan or Palestine. As the dishes are set out in front of us, Rihanna Gaga immediately starts eating the olives - she loves olives. She picks them up and blows at them before putting them in her mouth (she blows at everything, wheter it is hot or not, before eating it). She also likes the salty cheese, the tomatoes and cucumbers and the bread and drinks large portions of the watermelon juice. That leaves only the foul - a dish of cooked and mashed fava beans served with vegetable oil and cumin - the tea and a thick yoghurt with spices just for me - the rest I have to share with her.
After breakfast, I order a Turkish coffee, while Rihanna Gaga walks around on the road waving at
people. My phone rings. It's my girlfriend, asking me if I still want to go to the Dutch New Year's Dive. This is a peculiar tradition: every year on the first of January, people take a dive in the North Sea - the biggest event is in Scheveningen, our home in the Netherlands. I look at the clear blue sky, it's getting hot. The sea looks enticing. Why not? I pay and Rihanna Gaga and I leave to join this year's dive.
Besides a real beach, The Beach consists of a mall, cinemas, hotels and a long boulevard lined with restaurants. We were originally headed for a place called Eggspectations, but are told there's a waiting lists. We don't like waiting, so we walk on to La Postreria. We are sat right next to the road that dwindles alongside the beach itself. It's a great spot for people gazing. If the area where we live seemed as quiet as one would expect on New Year's morning, The Beach is already buzzing with activity. People from an enormous range of countries and cultures pass by.
La Postreira is originally a Spanish restaurant, but its menu is broadly Meditterean and European. Like all restaurants around here, it's designed with attention to detail, with nice white wrought iron furniture. Rihanna Gaga is in a good mood. Yesterday, we woke her up around midnight and took her to The Beach as well, to watch the fireworks. She was more interested in the lit balloons that were released at midnight, but when she saw that you were supposed to point at the fireworks and say "oooh!" she enthusiastically joined in doing so - even when there were no fireworks anymore. Now, she's playing with the sugar bags and pointing at people with strollers shouting 'baby!' after which she puts her finger on her lips and says "shhh!" In her mind, all babies do is sleep.Behind us, people are watching the films they made on their mobile phones of the fireworks. Indeed, yesterday night I noticed that around 60% of the people in the crowd - if not more - were filming the fireworks rather than just watching them. Back then I thought "But why? Nobody ever watches that, right?" Apparently, I was wrong.
La Postreira has several set breakfasts - American, English, Healthy and Arabic - and we choose the Arabic option. It consists of something entirely different than what we had at the Sheikh Mohammed Bin Rashid Centre for Cultural Understanding last Monday. This is more Levantine, the kind of breakfast you'd expect in Syria, Lebanon, Jordan or Palestine. As the dishes are set out in front of us, Rihanna Gaga immediately starts eating the olives - she loves olives. She picks them up and blows at them before putting them in her mouth (she blows at everything, wheter it is hot or not, before eating it). She also likes the salty cheese, the tomatoes and cucumbers and the bread and drinks large portions of the watermelon juice. That leaves only the foul - a dish of cooked and mashed fava beans served with vegetable oil and cumin - the tea and a thick yoghurt with spices just for me - the rest I have to share with her.After breakfast, I order a Turkish coffee, while Rihanna Gaga walks around on the road waving at
people. My phone rings. It's my girlfriend, asking me if I still want to go to the Dutch New Year's Dive. This is a peculiar tradition: every year on the first of January, people take a dive in the North Sea - the biggest event is in Scheveningen, our home in the Netherlands. I look at the clear blue sky, it's getting hot. The sea looks enticing. Why not? I pay and Rihanna Gaga and I leave to join this year's dive.
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