A free tool that helps you better understand and compareCBR pass rates, Google reviews and lesson prices.
Written by Chris Prosman, Co-Founder of Theorio.
This is a paid advertisement on The Hague Online, specifically written for our international community in The Hague.
You can love cycling in the Netherlands and still want a car. Image: Jules Kassas/Unsplash.
It’s raining sideways. Of course it is. Your jeans are soaked for the third time this week, you spent the whole train ride with a stranger’s backpack in your face, and there’s still twenty minutes of cycling to go. Into the wind, obviously. Dutch wind only blows one way: whichever way you’re heading.
You can love living here and still think: okay, I need a car.
Especially if you already have a licence. You did the lessons back home, passed the tests, maybe drove for ten years without anyone complaining. Then you move here and suddenly you don’t even know if you’re allowed behind the wheel.
That should be a five-minute question, right? Fill in a form, swap the licence, done.
Ha. You open the RDW website. Then the CBR. Then your gemeente. One page is about exchanging foreign licences, another is about Dutch exams, and twenty minutes later you’ve got six tabs open and still no answer to the one thing you wanted to know. Can I drive here, or am I starting over?
Starting over would sting. The Netherlands has a reputation as one of the priciest, strictest places in the world to get a licence, and once you add up lessons, exams and fees you’re easily past €3,000. That’s a lot of stroopwafels. And you haven’t even picked a driving school yet.
Why a Dutch theory app ended up building this
We kept getting these questions at Theorio. Which was a bit awkward, because Theorio is a theory app we built for Dutch teenagers. Duolingo for the CBR exam, basically. We’re good at getting people through the test. Whether you legally have to take it in the first place? At the time, honestly, no idea.
And look, we’re Dutch. Watching people waste time and money on something they might not even need physically hurts us.
So we built a free Dutch driving licence guide in English. You answer a few questions and it tells you which rules apply to you, including whether you can just exchange your licence. There’s an AI assistant on the page too, for when your situation is complicated (if you’re an expat, it usually is). And it’s gratis. Free. Possibly our favourite word.
Then people who did need lessons started asking which school to pick. So we built a driving school comparison tool as well. It puts CBR exam results and Google reviews next to each other, so you’ve got something better to go on than a school’s own website. No ads, no paid spots. A school can’t buy its way up the list, however nicely it asks.
First things first: do you even need a Dutch licence?
Check this before anything else. Plenty of people can keep driving on their current licence for a while, or swap it without going anywhere near an exam.
Got a licence from the EU, EEA or Switzerland? For categories like B (car) and BE (car plus large trailer), you can generally use it for up to 15 years from the date it was issued. There are conditions, like when exactly it was issued and whether it’s still valid, but that’s the general rule.
From outside the EU or EFTA? Then you usually get your first 185 days here.
Some people skip the exams entirely and just exchange. That covers exchangeable EU or EFTA licences, licences from a country or territory on the RDW exchange list, and qualifying workers under the expat scheme most people know as the 30% ruling. Everyone else, according to the RDW, takes both the theory and the practical exam at the CBR. Doable, plenty of expats have done it. And we’ve got plenty of tips for you below.
Our licence guide works out which group you’re in with three questions. Still stuck? Ask the AI assistant, no signup needed. Give it the country that issued your licence, the relevant dates and your licence type, and it’ll point you to the right rule and the official source. One request: keep your personal details out of it. It doesn’t need your BSN to figure out you’re from Canada.
The route finder separates exchange cases from people who need the CBR exams. Image: Theorio.
What it actually costs (spoiler: more than the hourly rate)
Right, so you need lessons. And your inner Dutchman is already sorting the list by price, lowest first. Good instinct! Just make sure you’re sorting by the right thing, because the hourly rate says surprisingly little about what your licence costs in the end.
Here’s a realistic picture, from our cost guide. The CBR average is 41 one-hour lessons. At €60 to €80 a lesson, plus the 2026 CBR fees (€50.50 for the theory exam, €46.90 for the Health Declaration and €143.50 for the practical), you’re looking at roughly €2,700 to €3,520.
Knowing that number upfront already puts you ahead of most people. It covers the big stuff, and the rest is smaller: €6.50 extra for the English theory exam, the municipal licence fee, photos, study materials, any medical checks and your school’s exam-day costs. Much nicer to budget for those now than to discover them at the counter. (And no, there’s no Tikkie you can send to split it with anyone.)
The part you have the most control over is the number of lessons. Every extra lesson or retake adds up, so a good school that gets you through first time is where the real savings are.
A few quick checks help a lot. Compare prices per 60 minutes, since some schools sell “lessons” of 45 or 50 minutes. Look at what’s in the package: the CBR exam fee, the car and instructor on exam day, a warm-up lesson before the test? And ask what happens to unused lessons and what a retake costs. The school comparison shows most of this at a glance.
And here’s the nice part: the school that’s a few euros an hour more expensive can easily work out cheaper, because they teach well and they’re honest about how many lessons you’ll need. The easiest way to find out? Book a proefles (trial lesson). More on that in a minute.
One attempt and 41 hours of lessons already produce an example budget of €2,700 to €3,520. Image: Theorio.
A high pass rate is nice. Context is nicer.
You’re about to hand a stranger a few thousand euros. A nice website shouldn’t be enough.
For reference: in 2025, only 49.8% of learners passed their first practical driving test in the Netherlands. That’s basically a coin toss. The good news? You don’t have to flip it blind. Pick the right school and your odds get a lot better. So a school where roughly 8 out of 10 pass first time is worth a closer look. Do check how many exams that’s based on, though. Three students passing isn’t a track record. It’s a good month.
In the Theorio driving school comparison you type in your town and get nearby schools with their pass rates next to their Google reviews, plus lesson prices where we have them.
Then read the reviews for the stuff numbers can’t tell you. Do people mention clear explanations in English? Lots of cancelled lessons? An instructor who stays calm when you stall at the same traffic light for the third time? You’re going to spend a lot of hours next to this person in a very small car. Chemistry matters.
And please, just call them. Most driving instructors are relaxed, chatty people who genuinely enjoy getting someone through their exam. As we say here: nee heb je, ja kun je krijgen. You already have the no. The only thing left to get is a yes.
The tool lets users sort the evidence themselves. Schools cannot buy a higher position. Image: Theorio.
From shortlist to phone call
The numbers get you a shortlist. The phone call does the rest.
Ask whether your instructor actually teaches in English regularly (you want “yes, all the time”, not “sure, we can try”). Ask when you can start and how often they can fit you in. If you can only do evenings or weekends, say so upfront.
Then find out exactly what you’re paying for:
Is it pay-as-you-go or a package?
How many lessons are in the package?
How long is each lesson?
Is the practical exam included?
Expect Dutch answers, by the way. Meaning direct ones. Trust me, that’s a good thing here.
Then book that *proefles* (trial lesson) before you commit to anything. Within the hour you’ll know whether you click with the instructor, and they’ll give you a far more honest guess at how many lessons you need than any website will.
A data shortlist should end with a trial lesson, not a blind package purchase. Image: Kindel Media/Pexels.
The English exam, now with bonus Dutch
Then there’s the theory. Good news: you can take the CBR theory exam in English. Slightly less good news: five words stay in Dutch, because English just doesn’t have an exact match. Better to meet them now than for the first time at the exam computer.
APK: the compulsory periodic safety inspection for cars. The English exam simply calls it APK.
autoweg: a road marked by a white car on a blue sign, often an N road. Not the same as an autosnelweg (motorway).
brommobiel: a small enclosed four-wheeler limited to 45 km/h. You’ll know one when you see one. There’s no everyday English word for it.
erf: a residential or shopping area marked by the blue erf sign. Maximum speed is 15 km/h, and you can only park in marked bays.
snorfiets: a two-wheeler limited to 25 km/h with a blue number plate. Not the same as a bromfiets, which is the faster moped category.
Some translations look familiar but mean something very specific. Rijverbod is translated as “forbidden to drive”, rijontzegging as “driving licence suspended”. Sounds like the same thing. Legally, it isn’t.
The English can trip you up on its own, too. You learn “hard shoulder” from a book, a quiz calls it “emergency lane” or “verge”, and your instructor calls it the vluchtstrook. You know exactly which bit of road it is. You’re just no longer sure everyone else does.
So we put together a Dutch driving theory glossary based on the vocabulary in the CBR exam plan. Search English to Dutch or the other way round. We wrote the definitions; the terms and translations come straight from the CBR’s own list.
Five terms stay Dutch in the English theory exam. Image: Theorio.
Why we wrote the course in English instead of translating it
Theorio started as a Dutch app for Dutch teenagers: short explanations, practice per topic, feedback after every answer and CBR-style mock exams once you’re ready.
For the English course, we didn’t want to hand you a Google Translate version of that. Nobody should have to decode a clunky sentence before they can even start on the traffic rule. So we wrote the videos, questions and explanations for people who don’t speak Dutch. That’s more than 1,700 practice questions and 35 CBR-style mock exams, with an explanation for every answer.
It also meant explaining the stuff Dutch kids pick up before they can walk. The shark teeth painted on the road. Priority from the right. What to watch for when you turn across a cycle lane (short version: a cyclist, and they are not going to brake). Plus those Dutch exam words, taught right next to the rule, so they don’t catch you off guard.
Not everyone needs a theory course first, though. If you can just exchange your licence, you shouldn’t have to pay for a subscription to find that out. That’s why the guide and the comparison are free. Figure out your route, get a feel for the cost, pick a school. Then decide if you want help with the exam.
The guide won’t take the exam for you (believe me, I asked). But it saves you a lot of guessing, and it beats picking an instructor based on whoever paid for the top Google ad.
If something in the guide is wrong, or your situation isn’t in there, tell me. The whole thing started because people asked us questions our app couldn’t answer, and every new question makes it better.
Now picture this. A grey Tuesday in November, rain doing its sideways thing, and you’re warm and dry in your own car with the radio on, passing the cyclists fighting that one-way headwind. You’ve earned it.
Succes! (That’s Dutch for good luck, not a typo.) See you on the road.
For four decades, ACCESS has supported internationals making the Netherlands their home. The organisation marked the milestone with a celebration at The Social Hub The Hague, bringing together the volunteers, staff members, partners and friends who have shaped its work.
ACCESS celebrated its 40th anniversary in The Hague on Thursday 17 September, with a gathering at The Social Hub The Hague.
The event brought together people from across the organisation’s past and present, including volunteers, former volunteers, staff members, board members, partners and patrons. It was one of three anniversary gatherings organised by ACCESS, with celebrations also taking place in Amsterdam and Utrecht.
Speakers included Deborah Valentine, Executive Director of ACCESS; Kim Jooste, Chairperson of the ACCESS Board; and Hildemarij Fortanier-Mesker, Department Head of International Affairs at the Municipality of The Hague and Manager of The Hague International Centre.
Together, they reflected on an organisation that began by providing practical information in English but has developed into something broader: a community offering information, understanding, professional experience and a sense of belonging.
From information to belonging
Speaking on behalf of the Municipality of The Hague, Hildemarij Fortanier-Mesker highlighted the people behind the organisation and their contribution to making internationals feel welcome.
“People do not move to a new country looking only for information,” she said. “They are looking for connection. They are looking for understanding. They are looking for a community.”
She described how ACCESS volunteers have done more than answer practical questions. By sharing their own experiences, listening to newcomers and offering reassurance, they have also supported people as they built friendships, networks and confidence.
The long-running partnership between ACCESS and The Hague International Centre has made this personal support part of the welcome received by internationals arriving in the region.
Fortanier-Mesker noted that The Hague International Centre has achieved a client satisfaction score of 9.6, but said the city’s welcome could not be created by a website, registration procedure or information desk alone.
“It is created by people,” she said.
Her speech also paid tribute to Deborah Valentine and the many staff members, volunteers, board members and partners who have shaped ACCESS. While the organisation was originally created to improve access to English-language information and services, she said its role today is also about belonging, bringing communities together and enabling internationals and local residents to understand one another.
A special connection with The Hague
Kim Jooste reflected on the particular significance of celebrating the anniversary in The Hague, the home city of ACCESS and the location of several important firsts.
The Hague was the first municipality to establish a formal partnership with ACCESS and the first to welcome ACCESS volunteers directly into its own international helpdesk.
Jooste said this strong foundation remained important as both the city and the needs of its international community continued to evolve.
She also highlighted the many former ACCESS volunteers who have remained in the region, built careers and made The Hague their long-term home. Guests were invited to show how long they had lived in the Netherlands, with some having been here for more than 10, 20, 30 or even 40 years.
The moment illustrated how an organisation initially created to support people through relocation has itself become part of many people’s longer story in the Netherlands.
Four decades of change
ACCESS was established in 1986 as the Administrative Committee to Coordinate English Speaking Services.
Its beginnings can be traced to a community needs assessment carried out in 1985 and 1986. The international community had identified a need for reliable English-language information, emotional support and opportunities for people to connect and contribute their skills.
The organisation’s early work included a telephone helpdesk, information mornings and training sessions. In 1989, it produced its first Information Calendar and Baby Book. These were followed by employment and healthcare publications, newsletters and, later, ACCESS Magazine.
The historical displays at the anniversary celebration showed just how much the methods of providing information have changed. ACCESS progressed from telephone calls, paper files and a Rolodex to computer databases, a website, social media and face-to-face services delivered in cooperation with international centres.
The purpose behind those tools, however, has remained remarkably consistent: making it easier for internationals to find reliable information, appropriate support and a community in the Netherlands.
Volunteers at the heart of ACCESS
ACCESS remains a not-for-profit organisation built around the knowledge and experience of its international and Dutch volunteers.
Many volunteers understand the challenges of relocation personally. They draw on that experience to respond to questions, guide newcomers towards relevant services and offer the reassurance that can only come from someone who has navigated similar circumstances.
Volunteering also gives internationals a place to use their professional skills, develop new experience and establish networks while building their own lives in the Netherlands.
Over the years, thousands of people have contributed to ACCESS. Their work has supported internationals through the organisation’s helpdesks, website, Counselling Services Network, Training Network, childbirth preparation courses and partnerships with international centres.
Today, ACCESS provides free information and guidance to internationals in The Hague, Amsterdam, Amstelveen and Utrecht, as well as through its national helpdesk and online resources.
Looking towards the next chapter
The anniversary celebration was an opportunity to recognise the organisation’s history, but also to consider what internationals need today and in the years ahead.
The tools may continue to change, as they have throughout the past four decades. The need for reliable information, human connection and a welcoming community remains.
As ACCESS enters its next chapter, its story continues to be shaped by the people who contribute their time, experience, knowledge and kindness.
For 40 years, ACCESS has supported people in finding their way in the Netherlands. More importantly, it has supported many of them in finding their place.
Photos: Vinita Salomé.
Source: ACCESS and speeches delivered during the ACCESS 40th anniversary celebration at The Social Hub The Hague.
In ACCESS Stories this month, Beata van Velzen reflects on a relocation journey that began when she left Poland for London at the age of 24 and eventually led her to the Netherlands. Although she appeared well integrated, it was the care and compassion she experienced during her premature daughter’s hospital stay that made the Netherlands truly feel like home. She also explores the unexpected challenges of returning to your country of origin, and how moving abroad can reshape your identity, sense of belonging and understanding of what home means.
ACCESS is a volunteer-run, not-for-profit organisation that has supported the international community in the Netherlands since 1986. English-speaking volunteers provide free, independent information and guidance on living, working and settling in the Netherlands, via a helpdesk, email support and partnerships across the country.
In the dunes of The Hague, where light can be so tangibly present, American artist James Turrell has created a place to look at the sky: ‘Celestial Vault’ in Kijkduin. The work has been permanent and freely accessible for three decades. Stroom Den Haag is celebrating the anniversary from September 18 to 20 with guided tours and a presentation on its origins.
A long staircase, an elliptical dune hollow, and a stone bench. Whoever enters Hemels Gewelf lies down and looks up. The shape of the landscape leads the gaze towards the sky; the heavens seem to draw closer and change shape. Light, clouds, time of day, and weather make every experience different.On this coming September 21st, it will be exactly thirty years since Celestial Vault by American artist James Turrell was completed and unveiled in the dunes of The Hague. It is one of the few permanently accessible landscape works by Turrell in Europe – an internationally renowned artwork that is free for everyone to visit, right here in The Hague.
No screen. No distractions. Just watching.
It is precisely in this respect that Hemels Gewelf feels remarkably relevant thirty years after its opening. In a world where our attention is constantly demanded, the work offers something rare: a place where you don’t have to do anything for a moment but look. Turrell makes the sky not a background, but a subject. Whoever lies on the stone bench becomes simultaneously aware of the light, the space, and their own way of seeing.
International artwork, Hague collection James Turrell is internationally regarded as one of the most important artists working with light, space, and perception. His work can be found worldwide; recently, a ‘skyspace’ was installed in the Aarhus Art Museum in Denmark. The fact that The Hague possesses a permanent and freely accessible landscape work by his hand is exceptional. Hidden in the dunes near Kijkduin, art and landscape merge almost completely. Hemels Gewelf is therefore not only a work by an internationally renowned artist but also a special asset of The Hague: a piece of the sky on the coast, which remains a discovery for many visitors.
Anniversary weekend September 18-20, 2026 Stroom Den Haag, the initiator of the realization of Hemels Gewelf , is organizing a festive program with guided tours from September 18 to 20. Visitors will discover the work, its history, and the unique character of art in public space. Registration is possible via www.stroom.nl .
Additionally, at Stroom aan de Hogewal, there is a presentation featuring a model of Hemels Gewelf and photo and film material from the very beginning.
From the solid guitar rock of The Velcro at the Proeflokaal to nocturnal poetry at The Grey Space: for the fourth year in a row, The Hague city centre was filled with music on Monday evening during PrinsjesNach, transcending styles, categories, and generations. With 40 acts at 31 locations, thousands of visitors, and a vibrant atmosphere, it was confirmed that the festival has earned its place as a tradition in the run-up to Prinsjesdag.
On Monday evening, September 14, The Hague city center once again transformed into a free musical pub crawl. From the Noordeinde to the Bierkade, from the Grote Markt to the Hofkwartier, music and spoken word could be heard. From indie pop and jazz to classical, world music, and spoken word. The organizers look back with satisfaction on the annual event.
The evening began with the festive opening at Bar Bistro De Twee Heeren, in the presence of Alderman for Culture Lotte van Basten Batenburg. In keeping with what has now become tradition, she accepted the PrinsjesNach briefcase. “It is fantastic that PrinsjesNach grows every year and allows more people to enjoy The Hague’s rich and diverse music scene,” said the newly appointed alderman. “PrinsjesNach adds color to the city and shows how music can connect. We must all cherish that.”
Among the many performances, NANO, TripKip, drum & brass band The Legendairs, Roos van Herrenwegen, French Kiss, and Yaël Campbell were particularly well-received. The audience in the Oude Molstraat listened breathlessly to an opera singer from the café window, while at the end of the evening, the crowd sang along loudly with Tante Koor in the bicycle parking area on the Papestraat. PrinsjesNach 2026 was concluded in a surprising manner with the NachMis by Scott Beekhuizen, Laurin Nargy, and the Henk & Melle Band.
“Really great fun! The atmosphere on the street, the artists. It was busy everywhere!!” said one of the visitors.
Initiators Sarah de Bruijn, Michael Varekamp, and Lucy Zuiderwijk are already looking forward to the third Monday of September 2027, when PrinsjesNach will take place for the fifth time. Many thanks also go to all the artists, venues, and volunteers who made the evening possible once again.
PrinsjesNach 2026 was made possible in part by the City of The Hague, Sena Performers, hetCultuurfonds, CultuurSchakel, Powered by PAARD/Popradar, the Central Government Real Estate Agency, BIZ Paleis Noordeinde and BIZ Hofkwartier.
The smell hits you before anything else on Lange Voorhout — charcoal smoke curling off satay grills, the sweet-sharp tang of sambal, someone’s kroket frying two stalls down. This is Jalan Pedis, the culinary spine of Jalan Jalan festival, and for three days in August it turns one of The Hague’s grandest streets into something closer to a Jakarta night market — if a Jakarta night market had also absorbed seventy years of Dutch history along the way.
Indonesian roots, Dutch soil, something entirely its own is exactly what Jalan Pedis, the food festival at the heart of the wider Jalan Jalan organisation, is built to hold. Vanja van der Leeden, one of its organizers shares her hopes for the festival and beyond. Vanja is a chef and cookbook author, and when I sat down with her, I expected a straightforward conversation about food. What I got instead was a family history that doubles as a history of this city’s largest, quietest diaspora.
Vanja grew up in The Hague of Indisch origin — the term for the mixed Dutch-Indonesian community that has shaped this city since the mid-20th century, when hundreds of thousands of people left the newly independent Indonesia for a Netherlands many of them had never actually lived in. Her grandmother, she told me, wasn’t much of a cook. Her mother cooked, but only ever from recipes — nothing improvised, nothing passed down by feel. What Vanja absorbed growing up was Indisch cooking: the Dutch-Indies hybrid cuisine that Indo families built for themselves after arriving here, working with whatever ingredients they could find, filling the gap where a formal food culture for their community simply didn’t exist yet.
It’s a detail that says more about this city than any timeline could. The Hague earned the nickname “Weduwe van Indië” — Widow of the Indies — because so many repatriates from the former Dutch East Indies settled here after 1949, and especially after Indonesia’s more nationalist turn in the late 1950s pushed out remaining Dutch nationals. You can still read it in the street names of the Archipelbuurt — Javastraat, Sumatrastraat — and in the toko shelves stocked with ingredients that had nowhere else to exist in Dutch supermarkets. But Vanja’s story is a reminder that what took root here wasn’t a transplanted Indonesian cuisine. It was something new, built from memory, scarcity, and improvisation. Indisch food, not Indonesian food — a distinction that matters more than it might sound.
What she didn’t grow up with, Vanja went looking for later. She travelled to Indonesia and spent time learning from some of the country’s most respected chefs — encountering, in many cases for the first time, the cooking her own family’s version had been adapted from. She brought that research home and eventually shaped it into a cookbook: Indo Rock, named for the food and the music of the Indo-Dutch community — a nod to the genre Indo musicians helped build in the Netherlands in the 1950s and 60s, guitars and all, as well as how Vanja is bringing some rock n roll to cooking. It’s a neat structure for a life’s work: grow up on the adapted version, go find the source, then write the book that puts them in conversation with each other. In fact, Vanja brought her copy of Indo Rock to our meeting for exactly this reason — to show, concretely, how a traditional recipe can move into the present without losing what makes it what it is.
That balancing act is really the whole culinary mission behind Jalan Pedis. Vanja was careful to spell it out: this isn’t only an Indisch food festival. The ambition is to show the full breadth of the diaspora’s cuisines side by side — Indisch, Indonesian, Moluccan, Papuan, Surinamese-Javanese, Peranakan — and to give more room than usual to Indonesia’s own vast regional variety, which rarely gets represented in full outside the archipelago itself. Memory and nostalgia matter deeply here — Vanja’s own story makes that obvious — but she’s just as focused on the third and fourth generation: the visitors and creators who are taking these cuisines somewhere new. Knowing where the food comes from, in other words, without treating that as the end of the story. The world will continue to evolve and grow and it only makes sense that this food and its chefs, evolve and grow with it.
Vanja wants Jalan Pedis to grow — not just in size, but in what it’s asking of the people who show up. Her hope is straightforward: that each year, it pulls a few more people into actually understanding the community and the history behind the food, rather than just eating it. Last year’s smaller preview, a single afternoon of Jalan Pedis on Lange Voorhout, drew far more visitors than organizers expected — toko and Indisch restaurants across the city reportedly saw the overflow. This year’s expanded, three-day edition of the broader Jalan Jalan Festival, spread across Filmhuis Den Haag, Museum Sophiahof, GR8, and Pulchri Studio, felt like the festival catching up to the appetite that was already there.
Standing on Lange Voorhout with a paper plate of nasi, it’s easy to just enjoy the festival as a festival — good food, good music, a packed street on a warm August evening. And that’s fine. But talking to Vanja, I kept coming back to her grandmother, the one who wasn’t much of a cook, and her mother, cooking carefully from recipes because nothing else had been handed down. Somewhere between them and Vanja’s cookbook is the story of an entire community rebuilding a cuisine — and by extension an identity — from scratch, in a country that didn’t always make space for it to happen.
Jalan Jalan, at its best, is that rebuilding made visible for a weekend. And if Vanja gets her way, it’ll only get bigger from here.
Who was cooking at Jalan Pedis
Part of what makes the festival worth returning to year after year is the sheer range on offer — home cooks alongside restaurant kitchens, Moluccan specialities next to fusion experiments. Here’s who was serving this year:
Food tuk — Saté ajam / babi / kambing / tempeh as full portions, with lontong, atjar, homemade satésaus, fried onions, kentang, and pandan cake
Gina Bratawidjaja — Homemade Indonesian iced drinks, including ijs rujak pedis, ijs tjendol durian, ijs campur, ijs klepon, ijs kelapa muda/dawet, and ijs aardbei
Saté Bar on Tour (from restaurant Sarinande in The Hague) — Everything off the BBQ: ikan bakar, half chicken, ribs, saté
Ins&Outs Catering — Pisang goreng, lemper and an Indo bar platter (maize cakes, loempia, pangsit, pastei, and more)
Organisatie Jalan Jalan — The Jalan Bites bus, serving fusion bites like Indo tostadas with chicken rendang and acar, spicy aubergine with basil, and salmon with Balinese sambal matah, alongside babi pangang ribs with mango sambal and pecel made from roasted pointed cabbage with lontong and krupuk
Indische curryworst — A caterer from Uitgeest
Coffee on Wheels (Mark Zevenbergen, Kim Padding) — Coffee truck and warm drinks
De Indo / Hangry Foodtruck (from Scheveningen) — Sandwiches and sate
El Careto – pandan tiramisu fusion from the mobile chef often found on Lange Voorhout
Vanja’s picks for Indonesian food beyond the festival
If Jalan Jalan leaves you wanting more, Vanja’s own go-to spots are a good place to start — a mix of Hague institutions and Amsterdam detours:
Warung Lapek Jo (The Hague)
De Javaan (The Hague)
Trio Eethuis (The Hague)
Martabak House (The Hague)
Paon Bali (Amsterdam)
Warung Pas (Amsterdam)
Warung Indonesia (Haagse Markt)
Follow Vanja on Instagram and grab one of her cookbooks here
Photos provided by: Vanja van der Leeden on behalf of photographers Nina Akollo, Hans Mahler and Rosa van Leeuwen
Do you have a story about your own café, restaurant or bar in the city? Reach out to sherika@thehagueonline.com to possibly be featured.
Sherika Rooplal-Clappers is a contributing writer for The Hague Online, covering culture, lifestyle, and local events. With a passion for storytelling and international perspectives, she highlights the people, places, and experiences that make The Hague a dynamic city.
