It's busy this morning, runners and cyclists; and no shortage of German tourists these days. The pandemic seems to keep no-one from sun, sand and sea. Life, after all, goes on it seems, crisis or no crisis.
In between the last beach club we visited - Strandclub Wij - and the two permanent surfer hangouts Aloha and Hart Beach, there's The Shore - another surf school cum beach club that's only there in the summer. More modest in size than Aloha and Hart Beach, it is very much similar in set-up: a surf school, surf shop and cafe in one. Compared to its bigger neighbours, The Shore has more of an urban feel to it, with its minimalist design - its buildings consisting of converted sea transport containers - and a ramp for skateboard practice outside. In front of the beach club, there is a large plaque displaying five white herrings on a black field. This sign can still be seen all over Scheveningen. It's a variation on the Scheveningen flag (a blue field with three crowned herrings on it, a reference to the long history as a fishing village of this part of The Hague) and meant to commemorate five surfers who recently drowned in the sea because of freak weather conditions. Scheveningen is still very much like a village, even if it is part of a 'big city' and the surfer community is quite close-knit, so that has made a big impression around here. There's still flowers and candles lying in front of the sign here at The Shore.
Food is to ordered at the bar. There's a small menu with a choice of pancakes. I take one with chocolate, mango, banana and coconut. And a flat white, because I'm still tired.
We sit down at a small table outside; in a world of our own on a Wednesday morning. I read a bit, he's down on the sand. We smile at each other as he crawls around.
Where I sit, I'm right in between the sound systems of Strandclub Wij on the one side and The Shore on the other, so the soft rock played by Wij mixes with the chilled out sounds coming from the speakerboxes of The Shore. I have a slight headache because of lack of sleep - Billie Stormzy still doesn't sleep well through the night, so neither do I during those nights I'm caring for him - but the clashing music doesn't bother me. It's just part of the background soundscape, together with the other patrons chattering, seagulls, and the coming and going of people on the beach in front of us.
There's no wind today and there's hardly any waves; small cotton clouds stand in a painterly sky. I know my headache will slowly get worse bur for now it's alright and I relax.
There's a crow on a table looking for food, a man with his dog next to that. His wife joins them to the dog's delight; then the man gets up with his dog, starts to run around while the woman laughs. They chat with the dog with so much warmth. This dog is loved, I think to myself - and he behaves like a dog that's loved, too.
The pancake is brought and it looks marvelously: two thick slices of small pancake, mango and banana between and on top of them, covered in liquid chocolate and sprinkled with coconut chips. It also tastes really good - I especially appreciate that the cook has withstood the temptation to make this really sweet. The chocolate is pure and beyond the fruit, no sugar or honey has been added, which makes the different flavours stand out much better. This is very much, I think, something that might be served anywhere along what was once described to me as the "banana pancake trail": the tracks throughout South East Asia travelled by young backpackers, often doing their gap year. Given the fact that these tracks also cover a lot of favourite surfing spots, it's a fitting serving for The Shore.
Some kids arrive and Billy Stormzy watches as they play with their cars. He's playing with a pony that belongs to his big sister. A My Little Pony that he likes a lot, cause she always plays with them; and he likes to copy all that she does. I sip my flat white and smile at him, he shakes his head like he always does when he's happy to get someone's attention.
He makes delighted little sounds and I noticed that the sand of the beach has mixed with the snot underneath his nose. Like any child of his age often has, Billy Stormzy is having a running nose. However, a running nose can be a big problem at the moment. On Monday his daycare called me to pick him up because the national guidelines meant to prevent the spread of Covid-19 said that kids with running noses are not allowed to go to daycare or school. I slightly despaired - what if his nose would continue to run for two weeks? - but luckily, I could conince the daycare to discuss the matter with their healthcare contact person, who said that just a running nose should be alright. By then, I had already been scoffed at by a person at the national Covid-19 line for asking for a corona test just because of a mere running nose ("there really need to be more symptons than that, Sir") and then, when the local healthcare that my call was forwarded to did make an appointment for me, my partner said this would be too terrible for a baby (the test takes place in some hotel far away from where we live and is quite nasty, with cotton buds stuck that need to be stuck far in nose and throat by persons completely covered in hazmat suits). She was right of course, but the prospect of having another period ahead of me where I could work only half days was also quite problematic. Today, the headline is that the national guidelines have been adapted and it's now okay for children with a running nose to go to schools and daycares.
I hesitate whether I should give him his late morning bottle here, or at home. If I do it at home, he might sleep a little afterwards, and since his sister has to go to dance class later today and I need to bring her so that he won't have much possibility to sleep in the afternoon, I decide that's the best option. I pick him up, say goodbye to the waitress and tell her that the pancake was delicious. He will indeed sleep at home, but only a little - afterwards we need to return to the Shore because I discover we forgot to take the My Little Pony.
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