camps bay

day 1 in cape town

the christening of a new apartment is always done, in my opinion, with a walk. this walk does not just help one orient themselves but also plants the seeds for a feeling of home to sprout one day. 

this is exactly what i did after moving into my flat in sea point. i went out the door, took a left, where i then found myself by the sea. i decide to take another left, for consistency's sake.

i didn’t know it at the time, but i was heading toward camps bay. 

the atlantic roared to my right, and concrete houses with big glass windows were to my left. it was around half past four, and the sun still had quite a bit left in her. i said a prayer for each huffing and puffing runner, and smiled at each lycra-clad power walker who strutted past me. there was nothing on this road besides houses and ocean. the number of houses began to overtake the view of the ocean, and there was a moment when i thought i was back in los angeles:

ocean, check. 

expensive houses, check.

blonde women with too much filler, check

a hilariously imbalanced cars-to-pedestrians ratio, check 

who knows, maybe if i followed the white g-wagon, an erewhon would have magically appeared in front of me. 

little did i know, there were better things in store for me. 

as i curled around another bend, a slice of civilisation was unveiled: a beach hugged by a street dotted with cute-looking establishments inviting you into its corners with open arms. this was camps bay. 

i decided to walk via the beach, and make my way back up through the road lined with all the shops. 

the beach was beautiful. i love watching people on the beach doing their beach activities: little kids building sandcastles, families having picnics, and boyfriends taking instagram photos. 

as i made my u-turn down victoria road, i was in need of a cafe — one with oatmilk, soft lighting, and a pastry case showing off the homemade baked goods made by the said cafe owner’s mother. 

it quickly became apparent that the chances of this dream becoming a reality were slim for two reasons:

1. i am far too spoiled when it comes to cafe expectations.

2. i was in camps bay. 

i was expecting cute cafes, restaurants and maybe even a homemade soap shop, but in reality, i got smoke machines, buckets of champagne, too much Tiesto, and a hard rock cafe. 

my senses were confused. were these places restaurants or clubs? behind the waitresses bringing out bottles of dom, were waitresses carrying trays of avocado toast.

talk about washing down the day with some bubbly, an oceanside view, “Like a G6” pumping in the background, and perhaps, a shakshuka. 

instinctively, i tucked into a side street. this tactic is known to nudge me back on track for the cappuccino, but the side streets only led me back into the forest of tech CEO vacation homes. 

i panicked. i needed to seek refuge somewhere quick.  

vegan cafes are also a good go to, especially in a pinch, so you can imagine how fast I sprinted up the stairs when i saw the sign for Mantra Cafe. 

luck was not only my side. the only difference between Mantra and the rest of them was that one could build their own nourish bowl to accompany their aperol spritz. 

i grabbed a seat at the bar, ordered my own bubbles (water), called an uber, paid, sprinted back down the stairs, and left. 

maybe i’ll come back for some cod, but i wouldn’t count on it. camps bay you were breathtakingly beautiful, but i don’t know if we’re a match.

trust me when i say it’s not you, it’s me.