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.