“The next [fill in the blank]” and “like [hotspot of choice] 20 years ago” are two of the bigger clichés in travel writing. And yet, sometimes clichés are clichés for very good reason: In this case, it’s an evocative way of explaining how Alaçati still has the innocence, charm and incredible beauty of a Turkish fishing village (although one that local tourists have been embracing for a while), while the better-known Bodrum, further down the Aegean coast, has large resorts, a Nikki Beach and Irish pubs.

So I used some clichés. But, hey, I didn’t call it the Hamptons of Istanbul. Although, come to think of it, it’s a pretty popular weekend spot for the capital’s elites.

Anyway, Alaçati is the kind of beautiful beach town that had me pulling out my phone every two minutes to Instagram something—bougainvillea, a restaurant façade, café tables on the sidewalk, the guy selling fresh mussels from a cart, cobblestone streets and colorful shutters, more bougainvillea. (I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my very patient guide, Ayse Barkin, from Cittur.)

But there’s also heart, soul and substance in this town on the Cesme Peninsula. That was especially clear at the charming small hotel where I stayed, Alayva. The name sounded exotic and Ottoman to me until a friend in Istanbul explained that you’re meant to pronounce it with an American drawl: Ah-luv-ya. And love it, I did.

It’s an impossibly beguiling place, composed of six restored historic houses with 25 rooms. Some face a large central courtyard, and others look out at small patios with white mulberry, olive, mastic and fruit trees. The pool is beyond inviting. Breakfast is served in a shady courtyard, by a staff that could not be more eager to accommodate.

The owners mean for Alayva to be “a place to linger, to love and to stay feeling happier and lighter.” To that end, there are affirmations everywhere: cushions that spell relax under a mulberry tree, “I feel good” written in neon outside reception, “Today is a gift” on a chalkboard by the pool. Guests get a teddy bear as parting gift. I also got a sign reading, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” wrapped in string and decorated with an evil eye, the Turkish talisman for warding off bad energy. I didn’t have room in my luggage for the teddy bear, but I took the lemonade sign and, cynic that I am, I propped it up by my bed. (I stayed as a guest of the hotel and the Turkish tourism board.)

Nice as it would have been to linger by that beautiful pool or propped up on the “relax” cushions under the tree and soak up the positive vibes, there are many reasons to leave. Food is a big one. Rumeli Pastanesi is the place to go for Turkish coffee, mastic-flavored custard and ice cream in interesting flavors like sesame. At Ferdi Baba in Alacati Port, the delicious mezze and fish are complemented with lovely sea views. And at the simple courtyard restaurant Asma Yapragi, guests enter the kitchen to select which of each day’s fresh mezze they want to sample.

Then there’s the sea. The area has some of the few sandy beaches on the Mediterranean. Swimming is all well and good, but the harbor area has been quietly gaining a reputation as one of the best wind- and kite-surfing venues in Europe. I gave it a whirl at the very professional Bubi surf school. My encouraging instructor had me feeling like a badass on the board after only one hour.

The region also produces superb olive oil—the best introduction and tasting experience is at Olivurla, where the young proprietor uses organic methods and infuses one of her blends with lavender that she grows on the farm—and wine. My favorite winery was Urla, where the owner—who also has a massive nursery nearby that grows more than 1,900 species of native and exotic plants and is one of the biggest producers of palm and cypress trees in Europe—resurrected ancient grapes and consistently turns out award-winning wines with those and other varietals.

Those two producers operate near the town of Urla, which was founded around 3,000 BCE and which I visited after my tastings. It’s even more laid-back and soulful. There are virtually no tourists on the narrow pedestrian streets, just men drinking coffee together at cafés. As we feasted on a lunch of vegetables at the local institution Begendik Abi, Ayse, who happily lives in Urla, says the town is the real deal: “It’s like Alacati 20 years ago.”

Getting there: Turkish Airlines flies to Istanbul from, well, just about anywhere, and offers a very comfortable business class and new wellness program developed in partnership with Dr. Mehmet Oz. From Istanbul it’s a short flight to Izmir and a two-hour drive to Alaçati.