How a picture-perfect Mediterranean village was saved from concrete — by a poet with a plan

By Ali Halit Diker, CNN

(CNN) — The village of Akyaka is one of those places you hope no one else finds out about. Tucked between pine-covered mountains and the cool, crystal waters of the Azmak River, it’s a picture of serenity.

Whitewashed houses with wooden frames and sweeping eaves feel like part of the landscape. In spring, the air smells of eucalyptus and orange blossoms.

It’s a picture-perfect destination. But it almost wasn’t.

In the 1970s, Akyaka was just a small fishing settlement of functional brick houses surrounded by mosquito-infested marshes in Muğla, southwestern Turkey. But as Turkey’s tourism scene grew and parts of Anatolia began giving way to development, Akyaka was set for a transformation of its own.

Luckily, thanks to the arrival of Nail Çakırhan, a poet, intellectual and self-taught architect, Akyaka’s transformation made it better, not worse.

When Çakırha moved to Akyaka in 1971 to retire with his wife, archaeologist Halet Çambel, he could have drifted quietly into his twilight years. Instead, realizing the value of his tranquil surroundings, he set about preserving the village he now called home. He knew the land was special, and he wasn’t about to let it be destroyed.

Çakırhan had no formal training as an architect, but that didn’t stop him. Drawing inspiration from traditional Ottoman-era buildings, he built his house on a high cliff overlooking the sea. His design was a modern adaptation of a local architecture, blending traditional construction methods with natural materials. The house was simple, functional and in harmony with the land.

A controversial award

Its design allowed natural ventilation to combat sweltering summer temperatures. Lime-plastered white walls and deep eaves provided generous shade from the sun. Its traditional timber frame could withstand the earthquakes that occasionally blight the region.

Inside, the design was modest yet functional: doors that folded away into recesses; built-in wooden storage for clothes and bedding; and a central hall, or divanhane, that merged fluidly with a garden room. His blend of tradition, practicality, and elegance earned him the prestigious Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 1983 — a controversial decision because of his lack of formal training.

His house was more than just a place to live — it became a model for others.

Influential local people soon commissioned their houses built in the same style. The demand for these homes revitalized local crafts, particularly carpentry, providing work and training for a new generation of artisans. Çakırhan’s architectural vision became the foundation for Akyaka’s future.

The movement was so successful that, in the 1990s, when planners created Akyaka’s zoning rules, the architectural standards established by Çakırhan were adopted for nearly all new construction. His small house essentially saved the town from the “frightening cancerous growth” of concrete that he had so vigorously opposed.

It’s an influence felt throughout the town.

Hamdi Yücel Gürsoy, the patriarch of the Yücelen Hotel — a sprawling coastal property designed in the Çakırhan style — says he was one of many local lives changed by the self-taught architect, recalling initial encounters in the 1970s.

Stars, birds, water

“My dreams were much different before I met Nail,” he says. “I was a merchant. Everything was money for me, and all I thought about was trade. Nail changed me. I learned to care about different things: people, nature, and culture. Sometimes a person comes into your life and changes it completely. Nail was one of them.”

Gürsoy went from supplying Çakırhan with timber to becoming his student. He vividly remembers the poet’s approach to solving architectural problems, often over a glass of rakı, the fiery Turkish liquor. When planning to build his hotel, Gürsoy drew from what he had learned from his teacher.

“I looked at the sky at night. The stars, the birds singing in the morning, the sound of the water,” he says. “I started to enjoy these things,” he recalls. “I am the most environmentally conscious person in Muğla now. I owe this to Nail Çakırhan and Halet Çambel.”

Another to feel Çakırhan’s influence was Eniz Tunca Özsoy, who served as his assistant before going on to forge her own successful architecture career.

Özsoy says the environment fostered in Akyaka made it a crucible of Turkish intellectual life. “It was very hopeful,” she says. “Intellectual people, real intellectual people, were here.”

Today, Akyaka has Cittaslow status — a global designation, meaning slow city, that recognizes a location’s commitment to quality of life and preservation of traditions. Becoming a Cittaslow destination can often lead to an increase in tourism.

Ezgi Yasemin, a regular visitor for six years, highlights the town’s undeniable appeal: “Ancient cities, mountains, eucalyptus trees, orange groves, sesame fields, a clean Azmak River, and intellectual people.”

Too popular?

Akyaka’s position at the top of the narrow Gökova Bay is a spectacular meeting point of land and sea. Steep, pine-covered mountains surround the sprawling Gökova plain, a haven of biological diversity.

At the heart of it is the icy, spring-fed Azmak. Boat tours on the river glide over water so clear that the dense aquatic flora and fauna are visible below the surface.

Local resident Ali Şahin, the owner of the village’s Halil’in Yeri Restaurant, says this is what makes Akyaka special. “I have traveled the world, but I have never seen a place with all four in one: the sea, the plain, the mountain, and the river.”

Beyond the river, visitors can explore the village’s cultural layers. Akyaka’s history stretches back more than three millennia to the founding of the ancient Carian city of Idyma. There are rock tombs carved into cliffs and a castle.

For adventure seekers, Gökova Bay is famous for its consistent cross-shore winds, making it one of the world’s best spots for kite surfing.

But Akyaka’s growing popularity is putting pressure on the town’s ability to protect what makes it special.

In the last five years, especially in the wake of the Covid pandemic, Akyaka has become a magnet for people wanting to escape Turkey’s major cities for a gentler pace of life, much like Çakırhan did decades ago. Its popularity is likely to increase further after it was recently added to a list of United Nations Best Tourism Villages.

While the mandated architectural style keeps the concrete towers at bay, the rapid pace of life and noise, particularly in the summer, can clash with the town’s “slow” ethos.

“I sometimes wish I didn’t know its old state,” says Ceren Tekşen, who owns a small tavern and pizzeria in Akyaka.

Özsoy, Çakırhan’s former assistant, is worried though, comparing peak-season Akyaka to the backstreets of Istanbul’s buzzy İstiklal district. Carrying on her old boss’s work, she’s now on the frontline of the ongoing battles against new development plans.

It’s still possible to enjoy Akyaka’s charm, but the best time to experience the town is outside the peak season, when it has space to breathe, the clear night sky is filled with stars and the same birdsong that once inspired Çakırhan can be heard in the trees.

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