Would You Like Fries With That?

Today the cold I’ve been so desperate to ignore hit me full on as I lay on the beach near the pier in awe of the local wildlife. See previous comment about size mattering and now apply it to sea gulls because these things looked like they’d bypassed the chips and were hitting the roids. My nose, having previously contented itself with the occasional sniffle was now auditioning to become a leaky tap and the moisture mixed with the fine airborne sand particles was giving my moustache the rough texture of a sugar cookie. No longer able to sniff discreetly I was forced to trudge back up the beach with an obnoxious snort.

Up until this point I was absolutely loving my day trip to the Hague. I’d arrived on the train from Amsterdam with a very loose plan to see the Peace Palace, the home of the International Criminal Court, and then perhaps take a gander at the sea. The ICC had once been a dream, albeit fleeting one, during my time at law school but in my years as a competitive debater had lost its shine as repetitive arguments were raised about the court’s power equating to that of a toothless tiger. I had regardless made the trip to the Hague to pay homage to an old personal icon. I stood outside the gates waiting for some kind of feedback from my inner self – this seemed as good a place as any to question whether I had any inkling to return to the law. No. Not a flicker. Ah well.

I found an exceptional cafe not a block away and ordered the most gorgeous French toast and coffee. It seems that at least one university hero remained loyal to me. After breakfast I ambled in the rough direction of the coast, passing by the Noordeinde Palace and through a neighbourhood that spoke directly to my soul – boutiques, cafes and thrift shops in beautiful old buildings. Only the idea of trying to pack Beryl later stopped me buying a vintage cable knit Ralph Lauren, a pair of cowboy boots I would never have looked at in Australia or a thousand different trinkets for my friends in a co-op for creatives.

Once I hit the fast fashion chain stores I thought it was time to catch a tram and literally ran for the no.9 as it departed for the coast. My little burst of cardio is probably what did it for my cold. I did try to enjoy the beach but the afore-mentioned nose situation was becoming too much and I was running short on tissues and sanitiser. It didn’t help that the sand was also now in my hair and under my nails giving me literal sensory hell. I admitted defeated which looked like a tram, followed by a train, followed by a tram and finally a walk before I made it back to the hotel to beat Scotty and my bag free of sand.

It is only now I think about it, I’m bloody starving so having already packed Beryl ahead of tomorrow’s flight it’s time to see if the hotel restaurant is any good.