The Urban Dictionary defines cheesy as “unsubtle, inauthentic, and trying too hard.” Alanya, on the southern coast of Turkey, is a good case in point. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the cheesiest places I’ve ever spent a night in, something like a mash-up between the Mediterranean and the Jersey Shore.
But there are still two ways you can enjoy it, maybe three.
One is if cheese is what you’re looking for. If what you seek is a Spring Break type of experience, it will deliver. And if you do not, watching the people who are looking for a Spring Break kind of experience can be just as engrossing and strangely relaxing. So the second option is simply to embrace the kitsch, let yourself react to the bizarre alchemy that is part Vegas, part Disneyland, part Turkish Riviera.
Our own people-watching turned into clothes-watching. There were some odd couples of women in tiny dresses, who looked like they walked out of Victoria’s Secret, together with short men with paunches, hairy arms and tight button-down shirts of unfashionable patterns—they looked not just like they were from two different leagues but from two different fashion eras.
There were a freakish number of matching guys, not twins but friends dressed identically in, for example, plaid shorts, pink polo shirts, loafers and slicked back hair. Generally, there seemed to be a limited number of clothing items available to the male population. We counted over 50 Jack Daniels and an equal number of “Obey” t-shirts in a few days.
The clubs are inescapable, almost as if all roads led to them. Robin Hood and James Dean are certainly at or very near the bottom of the drunken barrel, but even Havana Club, which seemed to promise a tiny bit more urban swank, still had girls in frothy lingerie grinding away on their rooftop bar. But that was far better than when the boxes were left open for anyone to dance in under the Alanya sky. I had to wonder what inspires a girl with a pasty belly or a guy with too tight shorts and thick glasses to get up and dance before all the countries of the world. Oh, that’s right, alcohol.
Still, we found genuine spots of quality, like good finds in a thrift store. There is, for example, a fantastic sushi restaurant—Crazy Sushi. I doubt there is a better one between Antalya and Antakya. And there is wonderful traditional Turkish comfort food, like the ginormous fish platters we were graciously served by Öz Fils at İskele Sofrası.
The two venues for live Turkish music, Harem Café Bar and Cello, are intimate and almost classy with a torch singer and, if not sultry, at least a smoky vibe.
Finally, there is Cleopatra’s Beach, a beach that is wide and long, with cabanas and plush sands that go on and on. People will put up with a lot for such a beach. In the late afternoon, as it empties out and the sunset fills the air with Creamsicle color, Alanya seems miraculously like a place that has not been spoiled after all.
It’s easy to be myopic, but if you face the tourist claptrap and go beyond it, lift your gaze a little bit from the laser beams, this is a beautiful land of castles and caves and old tales of pirate attacks. It’s just that now there are no real pirates or hordes of nomads thundering across the steppes of Anatolia, but rather throngs of Russian and Eastern European tourists who’ve come south with red arms, giant legs and tattoos everywhere, who share the pavement with covered women and bearded men.
The historical sights actually cut an interesting contrast to the booziness and beaches. After you pass all the hotels along İskele Caddesi on the waterfront and if you can steer clear of the hawkers in front of the hopped-up pirate ships, you come to a quiet corner with a little village still clinging to the side of the mountain. Above it looms the Red Tower, Kızıl Kule, and all around the area is a maze of stone paths and walls together with an old Seljuk-era shipyard and gorgeous views of the harbor, especially at night with the moon reclining on the water. There the lasers coming from the nightclubs across the bay seem worlds away, like Gatsby’s parties seen in Daisy’s world.
Romping around the castle itself, Alanya Kalesi, for an hour or so is good fun, even uplifting, after a sweaty night. It is quite soaring with wraparound views of the city, the long shoreline to the west, and the Sicilian mountains and Pamphylian plain to the north. All that solid stone is bracing and puts things into perspective—it tells us again how ancient and storied is this place and that the partying vacationers’ Alanya is just a mirage.
Editor’s Note: This post was originally published in February of 2014. It was updated for relevance on December of 2018.
رائعه جمال تركيا