Billie Stormzy is in an excellent mood. When we had left our bicycle at the parking lot and arrived on the beach, there was an enormous pair of sunglasses lying on the sand, almost as tall as me - a promotional stunt for Scheveningen. He thought that was hilarious and told me he wanted to put them on, so I had to walk him to them and he pretended to grab them. Right next to that pair of sunglasses, there was a sign saying Naturel was open for business. Given that this was also said on their website, where they update everyday whether the beach club is open or not, I was willing to risk the walk. But before we got started, Billie Stormzy spotted his favourite signs right next to each other: a red sign saying dogs are not allowed, and a green sign saying they are allowed but the owner has to clean up their poo. Despite the fact he knows exactly what these signs mean, he will always point at them and ask us: "What does it say?" And then we have to do so. It is, of course, funny that these signs are right next to each other, but that is because the part of the beach where dogs are not allowed and that runs all the way down to the harbour starts right here.
When we arrive at Naturel, he tells me he wants to sit inside. Although he will always say that, this time I agree that would be a good idea: the sky is grey as lead and there is a wind blowing over the beach. It is not cold, but it feels chilly. There don't really seem to be places where we can sit inside. There's a long table that is being laid out, I'm guessing for some private event that will soon start. And then there are a few chairs to the side, some tables with heaps of cutlery on them, and nothing else. So, much to Billie Stormzy's chagrin, I pick a spot on the beach club's veranda facing the sea. It turns out, however, that the wind is coming fromt he north east and the corner where we sit is not shielded. So after a few minutes, we walk to the side of the terraces facing the row of boats we just passed and sit down there. Here, the wind doesn't bother us at all.
Billie Stormzy climbs my lap, opens the book that he has been carrying since we left home and asks me to read to him. The book is actually a recipe book: "Eating with Miffy". I bought it a while ago, because Billie Stormzy is such a terrible eater and I wanted to increase his interest in different dishes. So far, that hasn't happened, but he does like the book a lot - mostly because there's numbers in it: the page numbers. So when we read it together, he reads the page numbers and tries to spot the numbers in the recipe (such as "4 tbsp curry"), and I have to read the titles of the recipes ("Chickpea soup"; "rice with lentils"). In between the recipes, there are stories with Miffy, everybody's favourite rabbit, that have to do with food. It is a weird book to pick as a favourite, especially for someone who has such a dislike to food as Billie Stormzy.
The restaurant staff are busy preparing Naturel for what clearly is some big event. Long rows of tables are being laid out, chairs are put in position, and everybody is working hard. After a while, one of them comes by to take my order. I take a tea and Billie Stormzy has an apple juice, and I ask for the menu, too, which is brought together with our drinks. We've already had breakfast because I wasn't completely sure the kitchen would be open, but it is, so I order an omelette. Billie Stormzy wants to know why our table has no number and other tables do. I don't know, I tell him. "I'm going to see number 406," he replies and gets up, still holding his book, and walking to the table he just mentioned. After having had a look at the table's number up close, he returns and we resume reading his book.Then, I notice there's a few pots next to our table, with plants and a small plate in them. I turn them around to reveal the number that is written on it: 416. "Look," I say to Billie Stormzy, "our table has a number after all." He nods, utterly satisfied, and sighs: "416!"
The omelette is brought and put on the small, low table in front of the bench with pillows on which we are sitting. "What is that green stuff?" Billie Stormzy asks distrustingy. I tell him it's sellery and he says: "I don't like that". I reply that it can be easily taken away and I show him that is the case as I sweep the green leaves off the omelette with my knife. He nods and confirms that this is better. We eat the omelette, and the thick slice of bread on which it is served, together. There's chopped chives mixed with the egg, but these he doesn't mind. The omelette is delicious, well prepared, salty and clearly made with good eggs. I must say that for one slice of bread with egg, the price (€10) is a bit steep, but at least it tastes great - and Naturel is quite secluded, which undoubtedly also influences the price of things.
After finishing the omelette, which is a bit of a challenge given how low the table is and the fact that I also have Billie Stormzy on my lap and he is still holding and reading his large book, we relax together. The little one is drinking his apple juice and I am sipping my tea. For most of the time that we've spent here, there's been jazzy, Portugese songs on the soundsystem. Naturel is one of the nicest looking beach clubs: almost all the furniture and walls are whitewashed and the whole place, with its cozy verandas, wicker chairs and palm trees has a grand, colonial feel to it. We're the only people here, apart fromt he staff who are still busy preparing the beach club for whatever is going to happen later today.
After a while, I pay, and we prepare to walk back to our bicycle. This time, Billie Stormzy is willing to walk himself, still holding his book. I have to take of his shoes, however, which is always a good idea when you have to walk long stretches on the beach. I put them in my rucksack, together with my own and we start out barefoot. I draw his attention to a small, dazzlingly white sea shell, and he decides he wants to throw it into the sea. With the wind still strong, however, he only makes it halfway towards the waves, then gives up and hands me the shell so he can hold his book with both hands again. "You throw the shell," he tells me. I make a big show out of throwing the shell so hard towards the sea, still far away, that I fall down and roll over. He finds it hilarious and laughs so much that he falls down as well. Together we walk back, more rolling and falling than actually walking, because, of course, I have to repeat the trick with the sea shell many times.
Also on Breakfast at the Beach: Jump back in time to when I visited this place with Rihanna Gaga in 2017.
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