Thirty years after she first visited, our writer is relieved to discover that the town has managed to swerve the worst excesses of tourist development
M
y favourite memory of Akyaka? The second evening of our most recent visit: the beach floodlit by the last embers of a flaming sunset, the mountains that stand sentry around the town softening into deep purple hues. Before our eyes, all was transformed: sunloungers stacked away, waiters whisking back and forth with tables, menus and small rechargeable lamps. A little further along, in one of the bar areas on the beach, a trio of Turkish women, their hair in shades of pepper and smoke, sat with their toes in the sand, happily knitting. I recalled other beaches in Turkey, where oligarchs and influencers preen and pose, and thought – yes, this is exactly where I want to be.
Akyaka – a small town, huddled on the eastern end of blue-washed Gökova Bay – is an old friend of mine. Thirty years ago, working as a holiday rep, I visited on a weekly basis, popping in to see the handful of clients who were staying at simple pansiyons (small B&Bs) in the town. Back then … well, actually, back then it wasn’t that different from today, which is something that can’t be said about many of the Turkish villages and small resorts I knew in the mid-1990s.
