On my night bus from Goreme, I was surprised to run into Phoenix and Brian, the Dutch/American hippie couple I'd met over beers at the carpet store—a story for my Goreme journal. They were far more unconventional than I, but had also been persuaded by all the Olympos promotion.

Most people might not understand why I resisted the idea of Olympos for so long. The short description of it—beach surrounded by lush mountains, requiring a walk through ancient ruins to reach, and even just the name! Olympos, home of the gods!—sounds appealing, certainly. But I'd been hearing so much about it from tourists, and even ones who loved it admitted it wasn't really a town, only tourists (but still loads of fun, you know). The idea turned me off.

I was already in Goreme when the serious push started happening—everyone had been to or was going to Olympos, the manager of my pension was close friends with Bayram, who owned a treehouse hotel in Olympos. They constantly asked me how I could so easily discount the place without trying it, which made me feel guilty. Since I'd come up to Goreme from the Southeast, the idea was ridiculously out of my way. But eventually I began to believe that it must be overtouristed for a reason, and had to check it out for myself. I gave up ideas of using my final 2.5 days before Istanbul at Bursa, Bergamum or Safranbolu, and bought myself a 10-hour bus ride to the Mediterranean.

The drive as we approached Olympos was gorgeous. The mountains, the turquoise water in the distance, the road winding through trees—absolutely breathtaking. The long-distance bus only goes to a bus station on the mountain, so we transferred to a minibus to descend to sea level, with more beautiful views along the way.

But it wasn't all I'd hoped. On all my beach trips on various solo trips, there have been more features than just seawater. There have been reasons to enjoy it alone, whether it's spectacular snorkeling or colorful locals to encounter, or just the joy of being in an undiscovered cove. I've always loved my beach days despite not being much of a beach person.

Olympos has none of this. The scenery really is spectacular. After I took that in, I thought: now what? It's just the beach, which is crowded. Everyone is a tourist. It's true that it isn't a town, it's just a dirt road flanked by treehouse hotels. There's nothing to do, which isn't as relaxing as it sounds.

The first time I strolled through the ruins to reach the water, I thought it was charming and beautiful. Subsequent times I found annoying. Even in Dahab, where I was across the street from the beach, even in Punta Uva, where I was 200 meters from the beach—I was close enough that if I forgot something I could run back to the hotel. This was almost like a mini daytrip, with wading through streams and ducking low branches and guards who actually try to charge admission to the ruins—which, since you're forced to walk through them, is kind of ridiculous.

The beach itself is all rocks. Not even the pebbly beaches of Dahab prepared me for this—the rocks were pointy and scorching hot. I occasionally looked around at my fellow loungers in wonder. Did they not notice? Each decision to get up and enter the water involved a great deal of pain. Even with shoes on, I had to lie on the rocks and occasionally put my hand down...ouch.

Olympos is essentially couples and large groups of friends. Many groups come on the 4-day Blue Cruise from Fethiye, so even previously-solo travelers have new pals on arrival. Groups litter the rock beach. It's impossible to break in. Turkish couples are everywhere, every single one playing the game where the man lifts the woman underwater and the woman squeals, each couple believing themselves totally unique.

The vibe of Olympos was noticeable in Bayram's as well. The only people I really spoke to the whole time were Claudia, also alone, and Phoenix and Brian who I'd met in Goreme.

German Claudia had just graduated from fashion school, which instantly bonded us—it's extremely rare to meet backpackers from my profession. Turned out she wasn't a backpacker though, she was on a simple beach vacation in Olympos in a nice private room. Her first couple nights were at Turkman Treehouses down the road, which was only couples. No one would talk to her, so she moved to Bayram's. I was having trouble seeing a big difference at Bayram's.

Of course it was hardly all bad, just a bit boring. Part of my problem was my natural tendency to backlash against hype. I overheard so many people at Bayram's raving about how they come to Olympos every few months, and just love Bayram's soooo much! To my immense surprise and delight I ran into Natalie, the Venezuelan woman I'd met in Urfa. After sharing so many stories in Urfa, it was so nice to actually meet her husband. They too, agreed that there were many couples of course and the beach was painfully rocky, but also said it was their favorite spot in the whole country.

I felt more relaxed after I met Claudia, and the second morning we wandered an extra 10 minutes to find a somewhat more solitary spot including beach chairs and umbrellas. It was really lovely once we had something comfortable to lie on. The water is luxuriously warm and clear, not as buoyant as the Red Sea but close to it. Bayram's was a pretty good bargain, with the food provided and not much else to spend on.

The night swimming was excellent, too. I was so excited to swim amongst the phosphorescent plankton of the Med. Unfortunately, the long walk through ruins in the dark means I wouldn't necessarily recommend going alone, and if I didn't finally convince Phoenix and Brian to put down the beer cans I would have missed out. The walk requires good flashlights of course, and steeled nerves against many spooky sounds along the way. But once in the water, the phosphorescence is AMAZING. I practically hypnotized myself dragging my shimmering arms through the water. It definitely encourages childlike wonder; the three of us oohed and ahhed each other's glowing trails and spun in the water with excitement. Incidentally, it's pretty private at night, fewer people go night swimming than I expected. It's an ideal spot for skinny dipping, if so moved.

I couldn't help thinking about a Turkish acquaintance's advice, which was that there were probably more beautiful beaches in America than Turkey, and I should see something more uniquely Turkish. He was completely correct, but I know I would have wondered about how the turquoise Med compared to my mental picture. The beach won't be my priority for the next trip to Turkey, but I'm glad I had a pretty well-rounded trip this time around.

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