Mediterranean Towns

November 2007

When my high school friend Yaşar invited me to the town of Akyaka, I welcomed the opportunity to see a region of Turkey new to me. I flew from Istanbul to Dalaman, the closest airport to my destination, 40 minutes away by cab. I took the later of two off‑season flights and arrived in Dalaman at around 9 pm. Yaşar was at the airport, and since I had no checked luggage for my four-day visit, we headed to Akyaka right away.

My friend’s charming country home, which she had designed herself, had two stories, with the bedrooms upstairs and the living area and kitchen downstairs. Built from knotty pine, the house was furnished in traditional style, with low seats along the perimeter of the living room, and local printed fabrics or hand-woven textiles as curtains, cushion covers, and bedspreads throughout. Yaşar lit the gas stove to temper the November chill. We settled in her cozy kitchen to exchange life stories over dinner.

In the morning a neighbor came unannounced to wish Yaşar a speedy recovery from minor hand surgery she had undergone, also delivering a bottle of lemon cologne, a basic element in many Turkish households. As the visitor apologized for not having come sooner, I was reminded of the tradition of impromptu visits among friends and neighbors, often with gifts, which has disappeared in the cities as women have joined the workforce.

A walk in the neighborhood revealed a charming picture book place, with attractive homes and gardens bursting with flowers and orange trees. Everyone seemed to know one another, as Yaşar stopped to chat and introduced me to others. Local villagers and those who had relocated here, attracted to the climate and natural beauty, seemed to mingle comfortably. We walked to the town center and, through a pine forest, reached the shore, where palm trees lined the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean.

Akyaka sits on the northern shore of the Gulf of Gökova along the Mediterranean Sea, within a region historically known as Caria. The first settlements in the region are believed to be from the Early Bronze Age (3500-2000 BC). According to Herodotus, the Carians came from the Aegean islands and settled here, mixing with local Anatolians, in 1000 BC. Since ancient times, houses have been built to suit the climate and geography of the region, giving it a unique architectural character.

The architecture in Akyaka is indeed eye-catching. Introduced to the town by Agha Khan Architecture Award recipient Nail Çakırhan, the traditional building style of the nearby town of Ula, as interpreted by the architect for his own house, has set a local trend. White houses are made of wood and generally have two stories. They have red tile roofs with brick chimneys, closed flat at the top with triangular openings on the side. Other distinguishing features of these impressive structures are twin doors opening onto a courtyard, as well as woodwork patterns adding richness to eaves, gates, shutters, ceilings, and cupboard doors. The gardens of houses are large enough to grow vegetables, and most feature climbing flowers and citrus trees. Some of these homes offer bed and breakfast; even hotels reflect the same building style.

The following morning we visited the public library, founded and stocked by a group of residents in the basement of a private home. Students come here after school to do homework, read, or check out books. The library is run by volunteers, including a retired school teacher. It was heartening to see this private initiative to inspire youth with a love of reading, in a country which generally scores low in this respect.

Later we strolled by the small Azmak River, which descends from the mountains and runs through gardens before flowing into the sea. Ducks play on this babbling stream, which is lined with restaurants. With mountains on one side and the stream on the other, this was a beautiful setting, where we enjoyed grilled fish. It began to rain, bringing welcome relief after what had been a dry summer. Water tanks on rooftops alongside satellite dishes are a common sight in this otherwise picturesque town.

Fortuitously, the weekly outdoor market took place during my visit. This market was orderly and calm, and even had a tea garden nearby. I wandered from stall to stall, viewing dairy products, produce, and grain from nearby villages. Tomatoes, which sell at premium prices in the States, sat in heaps for 50 cents a kilo. I confined my purchases to a block of feta cheese and local olives to take back to Istanbul.

An unexpected delight was a visit to the studio of local artist Ülkü Onur. Unknown beyond this small community, she charmed me with her pastel works and acrylic paintings. After spending a couple of hours over tea in her studio, I purchased a pastel drawing which I could carry back in a poster tube. It is a stylized rendering of a whirling dervish in gradations of red, applied in angular planes.

Our one-day excursion to Muğla was very rewarding. We took a minibus along with a few university students who commuted from Akyaka. Muğla, a town with a long history, is inland on a high plateau. Seized by the Ottomans in 1390, the old part of the city was a district where Greeks and Turks lived together on friendly terms. Even since the 1924 population exchange, when most Greeks left, the city has retained much of its former charm. Many of the old houses have been restored by their new owners.

As it is my habit to explore local crafts wherever I go, our first stop was at MELSA, a handicraft center run by a foundation to support the art of handmade textiles. A quick glance justified Muğla’s fame for its woven materials. Then beckoned Arasta, the historical bazaar, which seemed to have remained frozen in the early 20th century, with its small saddle and shoe workshops, barber shops, and hardware and textile stores. We stepped into one of the latter; this time I could not walk out empty-handed.

Following lunch at a small workers’ restaurant, we stopped at a carpet shop. Although I have many kilims, I fell in love with one featuring wheat stalk motifs. Woven by villagers, such motifs are often inspired by the weavers’ surroundings. After some friendly bargaining, I acquired yet another kilim. On the way back to Akyaka, we had a splendid view as we passed the Sakar Pass and descended on the winding road towards the gulf below. In the evening I packed an extra bag for my return trip to Istanbul.