If you ever want to visit a place where geology, history, and human stubbornness have conspired to produce something improbably charming, go to Kalk Bay. Wedged—almost accidentally—between a mountain that scowls like a Victorian schoolmaster and a sea that shrugs with ancient indifference, it is a village that smells exactly as a fishing village should: salt spray, drying kelp, and—delightfully—fresh cinnamon bread. It’s the sort of place you wander into, fall hopelessly in love with, …
