Breakfast at the Beach is always a nice excuse to spend some time together with Billie Stormzy - just the two of us, enjoying the food, vibes and views that the Scheveningen seaside has to offer. But sometimes it's nice to share that experience with others, too. Today it's Saturday and I've just returned from a very busy week in Groningen, where I was heading a five days long winter school in my field of specialisation. I've been co-organising this school for 6 years now, even when I was not working at the University of Groningen. It was a nice way of staying in touch with some important names in the field and keeping up to date with recent developments in the field. Since my return to the university, last year, I've been mostly in charge of organising the school and it has turned into a big annual event. It's a great opportunity to meet colleagues engaged in interesting new research, but also to bring together a new generation of specialists.
This year was extra special, because two old colleagues from Tunisia joined us. For three years, Tunisia and my work there was a fast receding memory, but now I had a chance to indulge in some looking back together with old colleagues - and it was nice. One of these colleagues, an American from the west coast who settled in Tunisia, is joining us in Scheveningen for a few days as well. A teacher by day and a DJ by night - a combination that always struck me as both difficult to juggle and really interesting because of the double perspective on Tunisian life it must allow - this used to be my favourite colleague. Soft-spoken, a great storyteller full of anecdotes from California, New York and Tunisia - as well as outrageously smart - I am very happy we've re-established contact.
The five of us - my former colleague, my partner, our daughter, Billie Stormzy and me - are heading to the boulevard. It's chilly and although we planned to visit the Pier, it is not quite sure from a distance whether anything is open there. So we settle, instead, for the Big Bell, another of the restaurants at the feet of the Kurhaus stairs. From outside, not much seems to have changed from when I visited this place with Rihanna Gaga in 2017 - almost exactly three years to the day. Inside, however, is an entirely different story. Gone are the weird clashing aesthetics of English pub versus Nightclub. Gone, too, is the terrible choice to make the front of the place the smoker's lounge, infecting the entire restaurant with cigarette smell.
Instead, the Big Bell has now opted for the kind of look that you can also find at many of the new beach clubs - you could call it eco-hipster, a style that also graces a lot of coffee bars these days. Lots of bricks and wood, blackboards on which food and drinks are announced in nice retro-typography and living plants. Somewhat disturbing the soft hipness of the place is the choice of music: 90s ballads. But apart from that the atmosphere is nice and chilled. A small army of waiters and waitresses surrounds the few customers this Saturday morning and we settle for a table in the front part where I can easily park Billie Stormzy's stroller. His big sister, meanwhile, is in a terrible mood, constantly checking where we draw the line for her behaviour and then seeing if she can cross it. Righ now, she's annoyed we're at a table with only chairs because she'd preferred the couch. I explain to her that there is no table for four persons where I can park the stroller, but she stubbornly sits down at the couch in front of the two person's table next to us. I decide to let her be, but when a table next to the window with couch, four seats and place for the stroller becomes available I suggest we move there.
Since the Big Bell still has a picture of the Big Ben outside, I'm in the mood for the English breakfast they offer, so I order that (8,95). So does my former colleague, together with a pancake. Rihanna Gaga and my partner both order a pancake (5,75). When the pancakes are brought, I realise that I should have warned my colleague that Dutch pancakes are quite different form Tunisian crepes - most notably in size, with the ration being close to 1:4. Together with the English breakfast - mini sausages, scrambled eggs, white beans in tomato sauce, baked mushrooms and toast - that makes for an enormous meal and it is not surprising he doesn't finish it. Even my daughter gives up on her pancake after about halfway through. Billie Stormzy, meanwhile, is happy sitting on my lap, although he is constantly on the verge of starting to cry. From time to time I need to gently rock him, soothe him or make some pleasant sounds to stop that from happening, meaning I have a hard time dividing my attention between my breakfast and him. Luckily my partner and me can take turns. The breakfast is quite good. The English breakfast makes for a nice change from what you can normally get around here and is well done without becoming overly greasy as English breakfasts tend to do. And it's really good value for money compared to some of the breakfasts available at nearby places. The pancakes are also not bad - I have some of my daughter's after she's done with hers - although they don't significantly differ fromt he ones on offer at the nearby ;t Pannekoekenhuisje.
We chat about mutual acquaintances from Tunisia, the situation in Tunisia and what is good and not so good about it. Outside, it is windy and chilly - not the perfect day for strolling around in Amsterdam as my colleague is planning to do. My daughter's mood detoriates even further - she's clearly bored and keeps jumping on the couch, interrupting us and 'accidentally' bumping into my partner. We try to keep her busy by giving her assignments - check for all the dogs in the restaurants, see how many colours the chairs have, that sort of thing, a smart idea from my partner - but she only settles down once the waitress brings some colouring pencils and my colleague provides her with some paper. In the meantime, we're drawing a map of our neighbourhood so that my colleague will find his way home tonight.
Although my daughter is now happily drawing, Billie Stormzy is clearly done with sitting in the restaurant, and my colleague is ready to go to Amsterdam, so I pay and we get dressed. Outside, it is still chilly and windy.
This year was extra special, because two old colleagues from Tunisia joined us. For three years, Tunisia and my work there was a fast receding memory, but now I had a chance to indulge in some looking back together with old colleagues - and it was nice. One of these colleagues, an American from the west coast who settled in Tunisia, is joining us in Scheveningen for a few days as well. A teacher by day and a DJ by night - a combination that always struck me as both difficult to juggle and really interesting because of the double perspective on Tunisian life it must allow - this used to be my favourite colleague. Soft-spoken, a great storyteller full of anecdotes from California, New York and Tunisia - as well as outrageously smart - I am very happy we've re-established contact.
The five of us - my former colleague, my partner, our daughter, Billie Stormzy and me - are heading to the boulevard. It's chilly and although we planned to visit the Pier, it is not quite sure from a distance whether anything is open there. So we settle, instead, for the Big Bell, another of the restaurants at the feet of the Kurhaus stairs. From outside, not much seems to have changed from when I visited this place with Rihanna Gaga in 2017 - almost exactly three years to the day. Inside, however, is an entirely different story. Gone are the weird clashing aesthetics of English pub versus Nightclub. Gone, too, is the terrible choice to make the front of the place the smoker's lounge, infecting the entire restaurant with cigarette smell.
Instead, the Big Bell has now opted for the kind of look that you can also find at many of the new beach clubs - you could call it eco-hipster, a style that also graces a lot of coffee bars these days. Lots of bricks and wood, blackboards on which food and drinks are announced in nice retro-typography and living plants. Somewhat disturbing the soft hipness of the place is the choice of music: 90s ballads. But apart from that the atmosphere is nice and chilled. A small army of waiters and waitresses surrounds the few customers this Saturday morning and we settle for a table in the front part where I can easily park Billie Stormzy's stroller. His big sister, meanwhile, is in a terrible mood, constantly checking where we draw the line for her behaviour and then seeing if she can cross it. Righ now, she's annoyed we're at a table with only chairs because she'd preferred the couch. I explain to her that there is no table for four persons where I can park the stroller, but she stubbornly sits down at the couch in front of the two person's table next to us. I decide to let her be, but when a table next to the window with couch, four seats and place for the stroller becomes available I suggest we move there. Since the Big Bell still has a picture of the Big Ben outside, I'm in the mood for the English breakfast they offer, so I order that (8,95). So does my former colleague, together with a pancake. Rihanna Gaga and my partner both order a pancake (5,75). When the pancakes are brought, I realise that I should have warned my colleague that Dutch pancakes are quite different form Tunisian crepes - most notably in size, with the ration being close to 1:4. Together with the English breakfast - mini sausages, scrambled eggs, white beans in tomato sauce, baked mushrooms and toast - that makes for an enormous meal and it is not surprising he doesn't finish it. Even my daughter gives up on her pancake after about halfway through. Billie Stormzy, meanwhile, is happy sitting on my lap, although he is constantly on the verge of starting to cry. From time to time I need to gently rock him, soothe him or make some pleasant sounds to stop that from happening, meaning I have a hard time dividing my attention between my breakfast and him. Luckily my partner and me can take turns. The breakfast is quite good. The English breakfast makes for a nice change from what you can normally get around here and is well done without becoming overly greasy as English breakfasts tend to do. And it's really good value for money compared to some of the breakfasts available at nearby places. The pancakes are also not bad - I have some of my daughter's after she's done with hers - although they don't significantly differ fromt he ones on offer at the nearby ;t Pannekoekenhuisje.
We chat about mutual acquaintances from Tunisia, the situation in Tunisia and what is good and not so good about it. Outside, it is windy and chilly - not the perfect day for strolling around in Amsterdam as my colleague is planning to do. My daughter's mood detoriates even further - she's clearly bored and keeps jumping on the couch, interrupting us and 'accidentally' bumping into my partner. We try to keep her busy by giving her assignments - check for all the dogs in the restaurants, see how many colours the chairs have, that sort of thing, a smart idea from my partner - but she only settles down once the waitress brings some colouring pencils and my colleague provides her with some paper. In the meantime, we're drawing a map of our neighbourhood so that my colleague will find his way home tonight.
Although my daughter is now happily drawing, Billie Stormzy is clearly done with sitting in the restaurant, and my colleague is ready to go to Amsterdam, so I pay and we get dressed. Outside, it is still chilly and windy.
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