Lunchtime in Mugla was a simple affair. Sara and I parked the car and settled in at one of a long line of wobbly trestle tables outside a row of low-roofed kebap salonus. They were all tiny, about four feet by six feet, and through their open windows a layered column of chicken could be seen twisting slowly on a spit. By each doorway men in grubby aprons smoked cigarettes and wielded startlingly long carving knives.
We ordered lunch (after some deliberation, we plumped for, um, chicken kebabs), chucked in a couple of soft drinks and tried not to be too conscious of the fact that two western women lunching at a roadside kebab shack was a thing worthy of comment.
Everyone around us was Turkish, and 90% of them were men. Yet we were not in some remote eastern province – far from it. Mugla is a university town in south-western Turkey, just 40 minutes' drive from the heaving resort of Marmaris, and roughly 20 from the sea. But life in the town is reassuringly untouched by the hordes that flock to the coasts below.
We ate our kebabs – succulent chicken, fresh salad and warm, soft flat bread – drank our sodas and settled up happily; about 80p for the pair of us.
Leaving the car we strolled up to the town's historic quarter: quiet streets, where whitewashed houses dating back 300 years lean together like drunken old men; ornate carved doors and red-tiled roofs breaking up the clean white walls. The streets were silent as we walked, the sun hot on our skin, and it struck me, pleasingly, that there were no souvenir shops, no bijou galleries selling arty, colour-washed photographs of Old Mugla. No one has thought to turn these streets into a tourist attraction just yet, and that is what gives them their charm.
Tourists come to Mugla for the Thursday market, on excursions from the beach resorts to the south, but Sara and I had driven from Izmir, 150 miles up the coast to the north, dropping in as part of a road trip that would deposit us at the end of the week at Dalaman airport.
Road trips are a relatively new concept in Turkey and yet this country is made for driving: vast sweeping landscapes, pine-clad mountains and lush agricultural plains, with ramshackle villages punctuated by minarets and cypress trees. Sadly, a road system that belongs in the 19th century and the Turkish proclivity to see driving as a white-knuckle sport have tended to put visitors off the self-drive option.
The roads have improved over the past few years, even if the majority of those who drive on them haven't. Car hire companies have sprung up, vehicles have improved, and they're now offering a measure of flexibility – which is how we were able to pick up our car from one airport and deposit it at another. It gave us the freedom to pack into a week the sort of things that usually have to be done on organised excursions: Ephesus one day, Mugla the next, a lazy day by the hotel pool after that, free to stop and carry on as we pleased.
We began our journey in the small village of Sirince – about an hour's drive south of Izmir, heading into the mountains. It's famous in Turkey for the fruit wines produced on its surrounding slopes, but barely known in the UK. We arrived at night, the road climbing upwards for what felt like hours, and in the morning I walked out of my room at the pretty, historic Gullu Konaklari hotel and looked across the rooftops to purple and khaki mountains beyond.
The village stretches out along a ridge on the hillside, reached by a curving road lined with wine-cellars and vine-clad terraces, with a small traditional bazaar selling local honey and leather goods and piles of scarves and sarongs. It felt a little like Kalkan or Hisaronu before the developers moved in and ripped out their Turkish hearts.
Tourists do visit Sirince; coaches pull up for half-hour stops on the way to or from Ephesus, just 15 minutes away. But by late afternoon, the village was quiet, perfect for cold beers and a buttery sunset and an unforgettable supper at the Arsipel restaurant, where we ate fresh greens from the garden, meatballs and crispy borek, and watched as couples at the tables around us sang along, beaming, with the young guitarist who had set up in front of the bar.
The next morning we set off early for Ephesus. The site astonished me, just as it had on my first visit 10 years ago, but a new, and spectacular feature is the hillside mansion houses, kept under cover until a couple of years ago because of their fragility. Now restored and open to the public, they are rich in frescoes and murals, the colours and patterns still vivid and clear after 2,000 years.
By lunchtime, just as the crowd really started to grow, we were gone. The road south from Izmir offers the option of a detour to Bodrum (around two hours), but we headed on to Mugla, and then over the mountain and down to Akyaka, a sleepy village at the mouth of the spectacular bay of Gokova. As a resort, it's something of an anomaly; so close to Dalaman (around 40 minutes) that it should be teeming with Brits, and yet visited mainly by Turks, who come to eat on the terraces of the renowned fish restaurants that line the Azmak river. We lazed the afternoon away on vast cushions that the hotel had thoughtfully scattered on the lawn that runs down to the Azmak and strolled along its banks for dinner: zingily fresh whole sea bass and bream for under a tenner each.
Our final port of call was the Bozburun Peninsula, a beautiful and tranquil swathe of land jutting out from behind the sprawling resorts of Marmaris and Icmeler. As the Irish pubs and apartment blocks melted away, we drove into pine-clad hills, dropped into the tiny village of Bayir for a Turkish coffee next to the mosque and ate more fresh fish at a beachside restaurant in the sleepy fishing village of Sogut. There are a handful of sleepy hamlets stretched along the peninsula; Selimye, Orhaniye, Bozburun - all ideal for a lazy lunch and a quick dip - the kind of places that you'd never discover without a car and a good map.
We arrived at the Dionysos - a clutch of villas and cottages clinging to the hillside, hundreds of feet above the coast, just as the sun was disappearing behind the ridge, flooding the pine forests with a rich, golden glow. I knew Dionysos of old, having worked with its owner, Ahmet, years before, and we ate that night on the candlelit terrace looking out across the sea to the twinkling lights of Marmaris, edging the curve of the bay.
We talked about how Turkey had changed, and reminisced about earlier times. But for all that the resorts have grown, the road system has changed and the crumbling old village houses have been replaced with neat modern homes, I drove back to Dalaman the next morning, reassured that much of the country I fell in love with 15 years ago remains the same.
It's a little harder to find these days, and it certainly doesn't exist in the big resorts, but with a car and a map and the ability to keep your nerve as traffic hurtles towards you, you will find there are still vast swathes of this beautiful country just waiting to be discovered.
Essentials: stylish stops in traditional Turkey
GULLU KONAKLARI, SIRINCE
Three 19th-century mansion houses have been converted into a small boutique retreat with seven rooms, an elegant outdoor lounge and a gorgeous lawned garden. Walk through the hills and work up an appetite for supper at the mansion's traditional restaurant.
• Bookable as part of a six-night self-drive trip through Exclusive Escapes (0208 605 3500; exclusiveescapes.co.uk), from £1,200, including flights, transfers, three nights at Gullu Konaklari and three nights at Dionysos (see below), both B&B
THE EV, BODRUM
If you want to put a night or two in Bodrum on the itinerary, a stay at the Ev is quite an experience. Make sure your fingers are clean , because everything in the hotel is white: the walls, the bed inen, the furniture, the sunloungers – but in spite of the design-heavy feel, it has a pleasingly relaxed air.
• Doubles from €150. Book through evoteli.com
OTTOMAN RESIDENCE, AKYAKA
What really sets this place apart is the lush countryside that surrounds it and the lawned area that runs down to the Azmak river; littered with vast beanbags and scatter cushions, it is just about the most relaxing place I've ever snoozed. If you catch the bar staff late in the evening, it's a masterclass in the art of flirtation.
• Doubles from £416 a week through Anatolian Sky (08448 75 76 81; anatoliansky.co.uk)
DIONYSOS, KUMLUBUK
These cottages and villas clinging to the cliff above the beach at Kumlubuk form one of Turkey's most stylish retreats. Laze by the infinity pool, sip a cocktail at sunset, head to the beach club in the village for lunch and a laze, or – if you come in autumn – get involved with the olive oil pressing.
• Bookable as part of a six-night self-drive trip through Exclusive Escapes (see above)
