Friterie Par Hasard

It’s been a busy morning already when Billie Stormzy and I get on our bicycle. We’ve been disposing of garbage – Billie Stormzy was very interested to see that at the garbage collection point, paper and glass went into different containers, after which we had to walk somewhere else to get rid of the bag with plastic, tin cans and cartons. The last container was located next to the local skate park, a place where he loves to wander around, so we spent some time doing just that. It’s still cold and windy, something Billie Stormzy didn’t mind, but I did, so I plied him with the promise of orange juice and we walked to the nearby Badhuisstraat, where Tigershark Coffee is located: a speciality coffee shop with amazing roasts and a very nice, laidback atmosphere. It’s a gathering place for Scheveningen’s surfers, as well as anyone with a taste for good coffee.

Now, we’re on our way to pick up Rihanna Gaga, Billie Stormzy’s big sister, from school, after which we’re headed for De Pier for lunch. It seems we missed her, when we arrive at the school – most kids have left already, and she’s nowhere to be found. I walk a few rounds around the school, and then she appears. She tells me that the kids have to return to their classrooms if they don’t find their parents upon exiting – for quite a long time now, parents have not been allowed to come and get their kids from the classroom due to the pandemic – and she did so, then ended up helping the teacher preparing tomorrow’s class.

“Can I take a friend?” Rihanna Gaga asks. She always does. Social life is super important for her and she gets grumpy if she doesn’t have anyone to play with. On most trips, she also prefers to bring along a friend, something I’m not always happy about – sometimes, it’s also nice to do things with just the family. However, for now it’s fine and we stop by a friend’s house to ask if she wants to come along. Only when we’re on our bicycle again, with Rihanna Gaga and her friend in tow, I realise there is an argument against taking this particular friend: this morning, her mother announced in the group app for the parents of Rihanna Gaga’s class that she tested positive for Covid, as did the friend’s little brother.

Technically speaking, the regulations allow for people who test negative for Covid to go out, even if housemates tested positive. That already is quite a change from how it was before: up until recently, the entire household was supposed to quarantine if one member tested positive. It’s a sign of how regulations are relaxed more and more, as the impact of Covid is diminishing – the latest mutation of the virus causing mostly severe flu and far less hospitalizations and deaths – and society is clearly at the end of its tether, with most people wanting to return to a normal life. But I know of many people who still think socialising with members of a household with a member who has tested positive is the height of irresponsibility. Angry mails about people not being careful enough are circulating among the staff of one of the university programmes in which I teach and I am sure that the people sending those would have something to say about the fact that all I can muster, after a moment of concern upon realising the implications of taking this friend out, is a mental shrug.

We cycle to one of the entrances to the Scheveningen Boulevard. Not wanting to cycle over the boulevard with two young girls – the boulevard is, in principle, for pedestrians only and although everybody ignores that, it still is not really a terrain to negotiate with inexperienced cyclists – and also not wanting to take a long walk past the Kurhaus, I opt for the entrance via a staircase at the end of a back alley. It’s a bit of a dodgy part, this. Along the alley are some small places serving fast food, including a few that seemingly closed long ago, their windows covered by wooden planks nailed on the window panes. There’s always some garbage lying around and a pretend posh entrance to a casino that, upon closer inspection, doesn’t look like much. To make the whole place even more questionable, there is a scrawny guy standing at the top of the stairway leading to the boulevard, dressed in black tight combat trousers, an orange hoodie, with something that almost resembles a bomb vest over it, his hood over his head and wearing a black facemask too – I think it’s safe to say that he is not doing so because of any health concerns. He looks like a second rate villain out of a superhero comic and just stands there.

To make matters worse, Rihanna Gaga’s friend says she’s forgotten to take her bicycle key. There is a chain in the bags of my bicycle, but no lock. I pretend I lock the girl’s bicycle by draping the chain around her back tyre, and then we descend the stairs to the Boulevard. Rihanna Gaga is bragging about how clever her brother is. He has indeed had a few impressive achievements recently. He can already recognise numbers up to 30, and loves practicing this skill: this morning, he endlessly wanted me to draw cards from a pack of Uno so that he could say the number printed on them. He’s also started to recognise quite a few letters, too – just now, he shouted ‘p for papa!’ when he saw a parking sign spotting a large white P. On top of that, he taught himself to count and recognise numbers up to 10 in French. The latter he did with the use of a toy phone that will say a number, and then asks you to press the button with that number on it. It has language settings, and sometimes Billie Stormzy will shift to Czech or French. Maybe he can also do the Czech one, but my own Czech is not good enough to be aware of that. All of this is recounted by Rihanna Gaga as proof of her brother’s amazingness, and her friend is duly impressed.

The stairs end right opposite De Pier, and we cross the boulevard to go there. I promised the kids French fries, so there really is no other place to go than Friterie Par Hasard. In fact, there are many places to eat French fries at De Pier, so if you want to distinguish yourself as the place to go for this, you need to make sure you have something special to offer. Par Hasard prides itself on the fact that its fries are handmade in the Belgian way. To stress this, there are bags full of potatoes lying around everywhere. I order two big portions of French fries. The girls also want a croquet, but it turns out there’s only one of those left. The guy behind the counter has a solution: “I’ll give you four bitterballen instead of that – they’re made in the same way as our croquets, they only have a different shape”. Obviously, the girls think this is an excellent solution.

The girls also take a drink – Rihanna Gaga has a bottle of water, her friend an ice tea. The French fries are ready straight after I’ve paid – or rather, after Billie Stormzy has paid, by now expertly placing my banking card on the scanner – and we settle at one of the tables next to the glass wall of De Pier overlooking the beach and the sea. It’s an incredibly sunny day, with the kind of bright light typical of early spring in Scheveningen. The beach is very busy, as is De Pier – so much so that I decided to put on my facemask as we were making our way to Par Hasard. Technically, wearing a facemask in indoors places like this is still obligatory until next Friday, but almost nobody bothers anymore. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be somewhat cautious.

The fries are excellent, as one would expect. So are the croquet and the bitterballen, of which I manage to steal some small bits from the girls. Quality can really make a difference with these kind of snacks, and this is way above the standard fare. The good weather has put everybody in a good mood. The girls are chatty, and Billie Stormzy is enjoying the fries very much, picking the ones I put in front of him – after cooling them down a little bit by blowing on them – and dipping them in the small plastic cup with mayonnaise in it, before putting them in his mouth. He tells me they are “yummy! Yummy-the-pummy!” Rihanna Gaga cheerfully tells her friend that next week, during the spring holiday, I will take her to my work, something she always enjoys.

Old hits are playing on De Pier’s soundsystem: Gloria Estefan, Gloria Gaynor, and other singers from the time of De Pier’s heyday in the 1970s and 1980s – one wonders if this is deliberate.  When they’re done eating, the girls run off to check if the indoors playground at the end of De Pier is open. After we’ve finished our last bits of fries, Billie Stormzy and I also get up. Alphaville’s “Big in Japan” is playing, and Billie Stormzy likes it so much he starts to dance wildly, his arms mowing about. He stumbles backwards a bit, ending up in the main pathway of De Pier, where a man and a woman glower angrily at him and me because he is in their way. Normally, I am quite careful to ensure my kids are not too loud or annoying when I am visiting restaurants with them. I do feel, however, that if you can’t stand a kid being a kid at a place like this, that maybe you shouldn’t come to De Pier.

The girls return, disappointed. The playground is closed – it always seems to be, nowadays. I don’t mind, really. This means Billie Stormzy can still have a short afternoon nap. He doesn’t really want to leave and protests when I pick him up. Soon, however, he is alright again, as I tickle him a little bit and he can shout the numbers he sees on the support beams of De Pier.