IF SOCIAL MEDIA and post-Covid demand caused a tourism ‘boom’, we’re now living in its crater. Over-tourism became such a problem last summer that Spaniards took to the streets armed with water pistols, fighting back the sunburnt hordes.

The dilemma is complex, with many communities depending on holidaymakers to make a living. But the surge in numbers is destroying the culture and landscapes that attracted visitors in the first place.

I couldn’t face the swarms of people – or high prices – this year. A friend told me of a place across the water that the Turkish had largely kept for themselves. A coil of cobbled streets and whitewashed buildings cut into the side of the Mediterranean. Clear-water snorkelling spots with views of ancient sunken ruins. No super-yachts, no high-rise hotels. The town of Kas, pronounced ‘cash’. It sounded too good to be true.

Tourists from Western Europe have been coming to Turkey since the late 80s. Quiet fishing villages like Kusadasi have been transformed by the high-density construction of generic apartment towers, novelty pubs and souvenir stands flogging knock-off tat. A good place to buy a full-English breakfast, a bad place for an authentic menemen.

Flanked by the Taurus mountains, the obstinate terrain around Kas has immunised it from the mass development of other Turkish resorts.........

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