For once, Billie Stormzy has agreed to go by bicycle to our weekly outing by the sea, which means that we arrive relatively quickly at the Scheveningen boulevard. It's Wednesday morning, half past eleven and our destination today is La Galleria - the one located at the beach, because there is another one in front of the Kurhaus. A warm blanket of eighties ballads greets us when we enter - and that will be the soundtrack throughout our visit. I don't know what it is about eighties ballads - why was that decade so prone to ballads - pop ballads, rock ballads - and why have these ballads lasted for so long? Why is it that, in 2022, it is still not uncommon to hear within less than an hour both Chris de Burgh's "Lady in Red" and Roxette's "Listen to Your Heart" and many other songs of heartache by more or less forgotten artists?
"What is this for music?" Billie Stormzy asks after a while, curious as ever. "It's a song about waiting", I tell him - Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting" is playing - and ask: "Do you like it?" He looks at me with a half smile. "Yeeeeees," he says hesitatingly. It's clear he's not as enthusiastic about it as he is about Tones and I's "Dance Monkey", which he will ask me to play for him about, oh, fifty times a day. I don't mind, really. I also think "Dance Monkey" is a brilliant song. It deserves to be played fifty times a day, which certainly is not true for any song we will hear during our stay at La Galleria.
Billie Stormzy is absolutely comfortable with going to restaurants nowadays. "This is my place!" he shouts repeatedly while bouncing up and down the couch that he picked for us. It's a faded yellow-ish affair that lines the entire left wall of this part of La Galleria - the pillows look worn out and where we sit, there's black spots on them, as well as what looks like rubble and dust from the stone wall. next to us.
When we entered, a cheerfully nonchalant Italian waiter greeted us and apologised when he asked for my QR code, then gave up when he didn't immediately manage to scan it. La Galleria is an Italian eatery with an impressive menu. Quite a few years ago, my partner and I had dinner at their other spot a few times and I remember the food was really good, authentically Italian, so I am quite looking forward to today's lunch - even though I am not particularly fond of Italian food. I pick a wrap with parmezan cheese and carpaccio ham, an orange juice for Billie Stormzy and a tea for myself. "With a spoon!" Billie Stormzy exclaims. He's been looking forward to orange juice with a spoon ever since I announced we were going to a restaurant by the sea. He hasn't forgotten the fun he had with the plastic stick that came with his orange juice when we had lunch two weeks ago at next door's Steam.
There is a tense moment when our drinks are brought and there is nothing in his glass of orange juice, but this is easily resolved by giving him the teaspoon that came with my tea. While I drink my tea, he is dips the teaspoon in his orange juice and puts it in his mouth - consuming his orange juice at the speed of not more than a few drops at a time. I had asked him if he wanted a croque-monsieur, which I had spotted on the menu, but he said he didn't. Now, he reconsiders that, so we walk to the counter to ask for one. The kitchen behind the counter is huge and it takes a while before we've spotted the waiter, who is chatting with the cook. When we do, Billie Stormzy enthusiastically runs into the kitchen, while I tell him not to. He ignores me, but turns around immediately when the waiter walks towards him and he realizes I'm not behind him. I order the croque-monsieur and we walk back to our table.
My wrap is brought first. It's nice - the carpaccio is good quality, as are the other ingredients and the wrap gives it a bit of a fusion feel. There's a bit of salad on the side, as well as a huge black olive - which I share with Billie Stormzy and which we both very much enjoy. Billie Stormzy tries a bite of my wrap, which he seems to enjoy, but he doesn't want more. Unfortunately, it's the same for the croque-monsieur, which consists of thick slices of baked corn bread and melted cheese, so after three bites of that I am left with the rest of it.
Suddenly, Billie Stormzy turns to me and says: "You're so sweet!" I smile at him and tell him the sam, then we hug. He's clearly having a good time. So much so, that when I announce we will have to go soon, he tells me that no, he first has to finish his orange juice. Given that he is still drinking it (or "eating" it, as he says himself) a few drops at the time, that would mean we wouldn't be on time to pick up his sister from school. She's been ill since Friday, having come home from swimming lessons with an infected ear that got worse over the weekend. It was a bit of a sad end of a week that started in high spirits, because after four years she finally managed to get her A diploma for swimming on Monday (the first of three diplomas, A, B and C, that are meant to ensure all Dutch kids are good swimmers). Recently, we had added another swimming school to the one that she had already been with for three years and that hadn't really been on top of things as we felt (three lockdowns hadn't helped either) and this turned out to be a good decision. In any case, the infection was so bad that she is now on antibiotics, and only today felt good enough to go to school again.
The time to go is approaching soon and although Billie Stormzy has now taken to sometimes also actually drinking from his glass, it is far from empty yet. I've ordered a double espresso and drink it while I wait for him - it is as good as one may expect from an Italian restaurant - but when that is finished and we've paid, it really is time to go. Billie Stormzy puts up a bit of a fight, but really starts protesting when we are on our way to school and he realises we won't return for the rest of the orange juice. I end up cycling through Scheveningen with a screaming toddler in front of me.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten