Real Turkish delight

Just a glance at a resort that offers all-in packages and wall-to-wall kids’ entertainment and we rush off to book an independent off-the-beaten-track villa that’s only got goats or shepherds for neighbours.

So I’ve got a bit of a dilemma. If I tell you that Hillside Beach is noisy or tacky or full of whingeing children, you probably won’t go. And that reduces the chance of it being all booked up when I want to go again. But I’d be lying. Big time.

So, just to save my soul, I’ll come clean.

Let’s take the noisy bit, for a start.

Sure, there’s noise. When you get up each morning and lean out over your huge verandah, you can indeed hear the lapping of the odd kayak or the fingertips of an early morning swimmer slicing the turquoise water below.

Later on, on the delectable Silent Beach, where children and mobile phones are strictly off limits, you may well hear the pat-pat of the feet of Balinese therapists.

They descend every afternoon from the spa above to relieve the exhaustion born of reading novels or snorkelling by offering drinks of lemongrass and ginger, cold flannels and neck massages.

And late at night you might choose between the soundtrack of Mamma Mia!, showing on a giant cinema screen out to sea while you watch it from under a blanket on a moonbed on the beach, or the sound of a saxophone solo outside the colonial-style jazz bar while waiters bring you cocktails.

There are children, of course — this is a family resort, after all — but you don’t see much of them.

Most of them seem to disappear after breakfast to Kids Side, while their parents chill out with a snooze or a sailing lesson or sauna. The braver ones engage in a set-to with the scary woman in the Turkish Bath, who brings her customers to the edge of pain by scouring them all over like they’re caked-on saucepans and chucking icy water all over them, and then draws them back towards ecstasy by blanketing them in a layer of warm suds.

Sounds dire, but one of those activities that feels great when it finally stops.

The chatter in the restaurant every evening indicates that the kids think they’ve got the best deal.

We gave up trying to frogmarch our offspring off on holiday a couple of years ago, but I can’t help thinking that if we’d known about Hillside a bit earlier, our family vacations might have had a longer shelf life.

The hotel pitches itself as a lazy or crazy resort, and we arrive determined to stick with lazy. But then something weird happens.

After 24 hours spent between the two quiet beaches and the tranquil Balinese Spa in the woods — take it from me that the footbath and hot rice massage therapy for couples will do more for you that evening than anything Ann Summers can offer.

We, whose definition of taking risks is changing our brand of teabags, begin to feel adventurous.

Before I know it we’re taking a 10-minute instruction course on how to avoid killing anyone while on a jetski hurtling at 50mph on the open sea.

Oh, the surge of adrenalin! Oh, the surge of water and hysterical crying when my husband’s jetski gets a bit too close to mine for comfort! But we are hooked. I look across at my husband speeding over the foam in a lifejacket that bears more than a passing resemblance to a bulletproof vest, and you know that Bond scene where Daniel Craig comes out of the waves in his trunks? Well, he looks nothing like that. But a lot more adventurous than he does at home. Which is very, very good.

Later that afternoon, we try double kayaking. He’s behind, doing the rowing, and I’m in front, doubled-up laughing at his attempts to prevent us turning round in small circles. Still, after a few minutes, we get some sort of action going, and eventually manage to travel from one end of the bay to the other.

I am an athlete, at last. There’s no holding me back now. My husband puts his head in his hands at my next suggestion, but I am determined to push my watersport skills even further.

Which is why, just 24 hours later, I‘m memorising a dozen different hand-signals to convey the message "Er, I say, I’m drowning" to three complete strangers who run the scuba diving Try Dive course, before putting them into practice 20 feet under the surface.

Luckily, when I do give them the "I’m drowning" signal, they calm me down instead of allowing me float to the surface, so that now we have a gripping 40-minute video of me flapping about on the sea bed Cousteau-style that the entire family say they can barely wait to watch. One day.

I could go on. The supper at the water’s edge under the full moon, with large fish peering up at us as we make quick work of their close relatives. The beautiful and charming waiters (it’s a little-publicised fact that all Turkish men are handsome).

The other holiday makers, who like us have no desire to make new soul mates and are content to read their books quietly or swim discreetly, avoiding much eye contact.

The chefs cutting steaks from a huge freshly-caught tuna and grilling them in front of our eyes. The preserved aubergines in syrup for breakfast. The melting lamb and the duck in sour cherries. The heady choice of Turkish sweetmeats.

The huge balcony outside our room, with a big, soft sofa where we lounge before dinner, making our way gradually through the mini-bar. The fresh flowers or other gifts we find on our beds every night. The fact that when I get back, someone tells me I look 15 years younger.

Oh, what the heck. What good is a mortal soul if you can’t enjoy yourself while you’ve still got breath to draw?

Don’t go. You won’t like it.

I’m afraid there simply has to be a room free for us again next year.

FACT FILE:

ROOMS cost from 105 euros per person per night based on two sharing on full board basis, including all meals and alcohol at the main restaurant, and many games, sports, water-based activities and evening entertainment.

Spa treatments in the Balinese Spa centre and the Turkish hammam and spa and some water-sports and lessons are not included.

Sue flew courtesy of Thomas Cook Airlines. Flights from London Gatwick to Dalaman, Turkey, are available year round with Thomas Cook Airlines. Return flights during October 2008 cost from £160 per person and can be booked online at flythomascook.com or by visiting any Thomas Cook or Going Places high street store.