Beachclub Bora Bora

It's a grey, rainy Wednesday morning as I park our bicycle at a little plateau overlooking the boulevard. Then, Billie Stormzy on my arm, I walk down a steep staircase to get to the boulevard and make my way to Beachclub Bora Bora, where we will have our breakfast today. Inside, the fires are on and there is a cosy atmosphere, with people chatting and songs in Spanish and Portugese on the sound system. A On one couch next to a fire, two dogs are sleeping. Outside it's chilly and autumn has really begun.

Outside, Bora Bora has the same garish colour scheme as its neighbour, Cocomo - purple, red, orange and yellow, with blue pillows thrown in for good measure; and, most remarkably: a big yellow bus that serves as bar and kitchen. Inside, things are more subdued, with tasteful shades of wood and bright blue tables, potted plants hanging from the reed ceiling and Moroccan lamps made of colourfully inlaid gourds.

A cheerful waitress takes my order, but comes back telling me that she just found out that the kitchen will open later because of the weahter, so she's very sorry, but I'll have to wait a bit longer for my breakfast. I shrug - it's fine, really, as I've been to beach clubs where they've left me waiting that long for my food without any notification. She does, however, already bring me the tea that comes with my breakfast that comes with a piece of butter cake and she asks if she should get Billie Stormzy an extra bit of that. I tell her that won't be necessary, as we try to keep his diet free of sugar for now. 

Billie Stormzy is remarkably relaxed. He's lying on my arm, pacifier in his mouth, looking around and seems content for now. Next to us, a group of people discuss the latest measures to prevent the spread of Covid-19. Yesterday, the prime minister held a press conference and after days of ominous warnings that the number of infections was rising dangerously, new measures were announced. The number of people allowed to gather in places like restaurants and pubs has been decreased to thirty inside and fourty outside, all restaurants and pubs must now close no later than ten o'clock, and stop serving at nine. People are now strongly encouraged to work from home again, after a period of loosening up a bit, and face masks in shops and public spaces is also strongly encouraged - but at the supermarket where Billie Stormzy and I were this morning, we were among the very few wearing face masks. Remarkably enough, the people wearing facemasks were mostly in their thirties and forties, while none of the elderly people (the group most at risk of becoming seriously ill from corona) wore them. 

All of the people discussing these new measures seem to be somehow involved in restaurants and pubs, probably also Bora Bora itself. A man warns that this time, there's going to be checks on whether places keep the new measures and they share stories of what this means for some of the businesses around The Hague. While they are critical, none of them seems to think the measures are unnecessary and while the mood is cheerful, there's also a sense of quiet resignation. 

Billie Stormzy and I gaze out of the window, in the direction of the sea, and see a man with long, greying hair in swimming trousers approaching the terrace. He continues to walk in our direction and enters the beach club through the door next to our table. He's greeted by many inside as an old friend. 

Billie Stormzy, in the meantime, is getting a bit more restless. He lets himself slip to the floor, stands up straight and walks a few steps. It's only yesterday that he cracked the code on walking and for now, the best he can do is a few uncertain steps, before succumbing to gravity - he doesn't fall, though, but gracefull leans over to continue crawling in the direction he's headed. Then, he's off exploring the beach club. 

The waitress seems really charmed by him, waving and smiling whenever he passes her. When he gets too far, I go after him and take him by the hand. Together we walk back to the table - at a certain moment, I draw back my hand and again, he's taking a few steps on his own. The waitress tries to encourage him to walk towards her, but that's a bit too much: shyly, he turns back to me as I crouch behind him and hides his face against me. But he is very cute, really,  with his bright blue eyes, infectious smile and thick, blond curls with a tinge of ginger. He reminds me of my younger brother when he was that age, with his looks of a little mischievous angel

The people next to us finish their coffee and tea and break up - I'm guessing that the working day is now beginning for them. The waitress also leaves, but not before having put cutlerly and the fresh orange juice that comes with the breakfast on the table. Then, she hands over the waiting to her colleague who brings me a second set of cutlery, then takes it back again when he sees there's already one on my table. Soon after, the food is brought. 

I've chosen the Bora Breakfast, with a bowl of yoghurt, fresh fruit and muesli, two slices of bread, jam, cheese and ham, a croissant and a poached egg. There's lots for Billie Stormzy to sample. Lately, he's been very enthusiastic about eating whatever is on our plate, and he munches happily on some of the bread, pieces of the poached egg, some yoghurt, and a few of the strawberries and currants that came with the yoghurt. He enjoys it all, and then is off crawling around the beach club again while I finish the rest of the breakfast. 

Bora Bora has become rather empty: almost all the people an their dogs have left, except for the man who just returned from a swim in the sea and is now enjoying the same breakfast as me with his partner. They're both amused by Billie Stormzy's antics as he tries to pull himself up from a chair at a table next to them, but I decide this is far too risky and quickly pick him up. Time to go. I pay and chat a little with the waiter, who tells me that this is the last week they're open. On Sunday, they will remove all the furniture and other valuable things. The beach club itself, however, will stay this year, as will most of them: the municipality has allowed this as compensation for the long period in March, April and May when they had to stay closed because of the lockdown. This means the won't have to pay for cranes and winter storage, which is good for the beach clubs. But I can't help thinking that this is, in a way, passing the costs down to other companies: after all, now the cranes and the places where they normally store the beach clubs for the winter will have less income. 

Also on Breakfast at the Beach: Jump back in time to when Rihanna Gaga and I visited this place in 2016