A Ghostly Town Abandoned for Over a Century

Kayaköy features an imposing and dignified school, narrow winding streets flanked by houses climbing up steep valley sides, an ancient fountain at the heart of the town, and churches – one perched high on a hill offering sweeping views over the azure Aegean Sea.

Yet, for the majority of the last century, the town has stood eerily empty, devoid of life.

Nestled in southwestern Turkey's Muğla Province, Kayaköy is the epitome of a ghost town. Once home to a thriving community, it now stands abandoned, a haunting symbol of a forgotten past, frozen in time and a reminder of the darker chapters in Turkey's history.

With its hillsides dotted by decaying structures being slowly reclaimed by nature, and the endless views of lives long disappeared, Kayaköy is both a strikingly beautiful and chilling destination. In summer, under the blazing sun and clear skies, it feels unnervingly empty. The atmosphere grows even more haunting in the cooler seasons, veiled in mountain or sea fogs.

More than a century ago, Kayaköy, formerly known as Levissi, was a thriving community of over 10,000 Greek Orthodox Christians, many of whom were skilled artisans living in harmony with the local Muslim Turkish farmers. However, with Turkey’s rise as a republic, their peaceful lives were shattered by violent upheavals.

After the Greco-Turkish war ended in 1922, tensions between Greece and Turkey led to a massive population exchange. Kayaköy’s Greek inhabitants were forced to leave, replaced by Muslim Turks from Kavala, a town in what is now Northern Greece.

However, the Muslim newcomers were reportedly unhappy with their new surroundings, quickly abandoning Kayaköy and leaving the town to decay into ruin.

A Town Left with a Heavy Heart

Among those few who stayed behind were Aysun Ekiz’s grandparents. Today, their family operates a small restaurant near the main entrance to Kayaköy, offering refreshments to tourists visiting the ghost town. The stories of the challenging years have been passed down through generations.

“The Greek families were devastated, not wanting to leave,” recalls Ekiz, who now sells handmade jewelry to visitors. “Some even left their children behind with Turkish friends, believing they would return. But they never did.”

Ekiz shares that her grandparents were shepherds and had no trouble adjusting to life on the outskirts of town. Unlike many of the other newcomers, however, they weren’t bothered by the blue-painted walls of the houses, which were believed to protect against scorpions and snakes. Most of their fellow immigrants, she says, found it unsettling.

The signature blue paint is still visible on the surviving walls of around 2,500 houses in Kayaköy, although little else remains in terms of decoration, as decades of neglect have taken their toll. Despite this, the town still offers a glimpse into an ancient way of life on the verge of modernity, well worth exploring.

Jane Akatay, co-author of 'A Guide to Kayaköy,' suggests that the town’s abandonment may be linked to the deep sadness that still hangs over it, a sorrow rooted in the tragic events of the 1920s. Additionally, nature itself has contributed to the decline of the town's human-made structures.

Earthquakes and storms have taken their toll.

“Earthquakes, storms, and the relentless forces of nature have all left their mark on this fascinating place,” Akatay explains. “Over time, the mortar that once held the buildings together has crumbled, and without proper care, the structures have slowly fallen apart.”

Allowing a few hours to fully experience the town is highly recommended. With only occasional tour groups during peak seasons, it’s easy to find solitude and reflect on how vibrant this place once was, especially in the old town square where local men would gather to sip tea and exchange stories.

Most of the houses, constructed in the century leading up to the town's abandonment, have now lost their roofs, and their crumbling walls are overtaken by greenery. Some houses even have basement pits, once used for tanning leather, as shoemaking was a common craft here.

Many of the houses still feature intact cisterns, vital for collecting water in a town without running plumbing.

“Water was transported in by donkey,” Ekiz recalls. She also grimly remembers how, due to the lack of proper sanitation, the residents used torn-up old clothes as makeshift toilet paper. These rags would then be burned as fuel or repurposed as fertilizer for the gardens.

Despite such hardships, Ekiz explains that Kayaköy was once a relatively prosperous town, thriving as the commercial center of the region. In its heyday, it even surpassed the nearby port of Fethiye, which has since transformed into a bustling urban area and a popular tourist destination.

While the community in Kayaköy was undoubtedly close-knit, Ekiz emphasizes that each of the two-story homes was carefully spaced to ensure privacy. “Every house was designed so that no one’s sunlight was blocked by their neighbor,” she explains.

A ‘Bitter Reflection’

One of the most notable structures in Kayaköy is the Upper Church, a large building with weathered pink stucco walls and barrel-vaulted ceilings. Sadly, the church is off-limits due to its deteriorating condition, although visitors can catch fleeting glimpses of it from various vantage points around the town.

At the highest point of the town, the ruins of Kayaköy’s former school offer a commanding view over the main church and the houses below. Today, a Turkish flag waves from a pole above the building, a symbol of the country’s enduring presence.

Gazing over the town’s desolate landscape, Yiğit Ulaş Öztimur, visiting from Ankara, describes Kayaköy as “a somber reflection of our past,” encapsulating the ghostly atmosphere of the abandoned town.

“This was once a thriving Christian village, but now it stands as a stark reminder of what has transpired,” he says. “Because so many buildings remain intact, you can truly feel what life must have been like here.”

Marked hiking trails lead through Kayaköy from surrounding towns, but the maze-like streets make it easy to get lost. Many alleyways end abruptly, and open doorways and staircases invite exploration—though visitors are cautioned not to enter the buildings due to their dilapidated state.

The climb to the smaller church across the valley is well worth the effort. A challenging ascent through rocky terrain and pine trees leads to the summit of the hill, where the church awaits.

True to the influence of the people who once lived here, the church resembles the small, simple structures commonly found on Greek islands. A modest building with a domed roof and unglazed windows, its interior is now entirely empty.

A Turkish flag flutters proudly in the breeze, its vibrant red contrasting against the endless blue sky. Below, across a lush, forested hillside, the Aegean Sea sparkles in the sunlight. It’s a breathtaking view—one that has likely remained unchanged since the days when Kayaköy was a bustling community.