Sometimes the pressures of our personal and professional lives call for a retreat from the jarring reality of our fast-paced world. It is decidedly difficult to find a destination that can help stylish travelers empty the clutter from their heads. You want it to be hip but isolated, stylish but not contrived. You want a destination that is cool, in a world where cool is defined not by what is popular but by what is relatively undiscovered. Consider a relatively unknown cove in the south of Turkey, where all of Europe is trying to acquire a vacation home. In particular, Bozburun, a tiny coastal town, is where savvy travelers settle to still the chaos created by frenzied schedules and overlapping appointments.

This is one of those rare spots where you need only concern yourself with the ebb of the morning tide, or the intense sun, which scorches away the mist by 10 a.m. leaving the view clear and the sea warm. It’s a lot to take in as you rock lazily in your hammock. For four months a year, your host, himself the epitome of style, Asim Ozogul is alone in a little 16-room hotel called Sabrinas Haus, preparing to serve up a slice of the peaceful life to the few visitors aware of the establishment.

The stillness of the night turns the walls porous, and he knows every sound — the orchestra of insects, the waves that wash up gently against the dock, the gathering winds and unsettled sea before an approaching storm. Even when the skies burst open, it is hard to stir the placid surface of the lucid waters that fill the bay around the little hotel.

From December to March he prepares for the transformation he undergoes as the summer season seizes Turkey’s southern coastline. For those six months, Ozogul plays super host. He is at once the concierge, the gourmet baker, the decorator and landscaper, crafting an environment that will yield the ultimate in indulgence.

“This is the crux of what it is to be cool, this is what every boutique hotel wants to be,” says a particularly well-endowed guest as she slips off a white chiffon kaftan with a spattering of silver sequins, and stretches out on the private beach.

At 60 euros a night, the peace they promise doesn’t throw your budget into chaos. And the place will only accommodate 40 guests, which means you get to feel like you’re holidaying at a friend’s home in the south of Turkey. And certainly Ozogul does everything to make you feel like you are the reason for his existence. One night we sat gazing up at the brilliant stars, tracing patterns in the water, the silence broken only by water dripping off our toes and couples in hushed conversations in corners lit only by candles. Then we noticed little shimmering lights floating on the dark, still surface of the sea. Ozogul was busy setting little ‘boats’ carrying candles afloat for our viewing pleasure. It’s hard to believe he almost became a pharmacist.

“I did well as an apprentice, but doing that very precise and detailed work was very sterile,” said Asim, sitting on the boardwalk clad in Diesel, trailing a toe in the clear water below.

Twelve years of measuring out medicine went by before he decided it just wasn’t his thing. One morning he packed his bags and headed south to Marmaris, hoping to find work and spend his days reflecting on where life was taking him. What he found was a resort town complete with a massive marina and thumping nightlife. Ozogul was repulsed by its frenzied pace and found his existence there even less meaningful than his city life. Then he met Tobias Knorle, the German business partner of Sabrinas Haus. Now Ozogul has been in Bozburun for two seasons and considers it home. He spends his days imposing order on the little universe, trimming bushes, selecting soothing lounge music, and helping guests arrange excursions.

Fresh fruit cocktails flow endlessly into bottomless glasses, the music keeps pace with the gathering calm that settles after lunch as guests lie on the sun-kissed deck and the wind stirs the canopy of leaves above. On the patio outside, a consultant from London is talking to another consultant from India about his futile efforts to find a plot of land in the area that he can turn into a vacation home. Inside, women in Pucci bikinis and Cutler and Gross sunglasses are shoving sun-block into Dior bags as they set off to sail to a nearby Greek island.

“Don’t forget your passport,” someone quipped.

They twittered in response, while their portly companion clipped off the end of his Cuban cigar. We took out the kayaks and ventured into the open water, thrilled at how quickly we had paddled out to sea. There, we watched as the sun dissolved golden-bronze into the water, before it disappeared entirely into the ocean. The water is so still; one might be forgiven for thinking you are paddling on a lake, thanks to the protection of the craggy mountains that almost entirely circle the bay.

Although the hotel is attached to the town by land, the only way one can get to it, unless one is a mountain goat, is a seven-minute boat ride from Bozburun Harbor. What the hotel calls a ‘catamaran’ is more like a floating platform that comes to pick you up complete with cane chairs grouped around a little coffee table on top of a little rug.

Very little has been published about the Bozburun Peninsula and so very few people come out to seek the natural pleasures of its pristine surroundings. And that is precisely why Istanbulites, Emel and Ufuk Cakmak moved to Bozburun. The couple, a doctor and public relations representative found they had plenty of money on their hands but little time to play. So they stole a week out of their lives, scoped out the south coast, found a little building to lease in Bozburun and sold everything they owned, hoping to slow down the pace.

“We’re barely making money to cover the costs, but we love it, we have so much time to talk, before it was just busy, busy, finding some minutes here, some minutes there and feeling mostly tired,” said Ufuk from behind the counter at Arsipel, a bar-lounge that boasts world music on a banner hanging off the gorgeous stone façade of the building. We are surprised to find a comprehensive collection of underground sounds from London’s music scene, reggae, jazz and Buddha-bar-like lounge compilations.

Travelers are encouraged to pick up a CD and leave behind a CD in exchange. A couple from France is moving to Frank Sinatra. A Canadian woman in a funky, multi-tiered skirt is sitting cross-legged on the floor going through Brazilian CDs. She looks through her knapsack and offers an Afro-funk collection she bought in Montreal. Everyone at the bar nods along to it before someone asks the Cakmaks who speak impeccable English, why they decided to establish this outpost of bohemian cool so far from the hip crowds that haunt much of the Turkish Riviera.

“It is too hectic in Bodrum, or Marmaris, too many people pretending to have a good time, we just wanted to relax the tightness around us and help other people do the same,” explains Emel. In other words, the resort towns are too much like city the Cakmaks are seeking refuge from. Many travel guides trumpet Bodrum as the San Tropez of the Turkish Riviera, its economy fuelled by the yachts trafficking the waters around the town.

And Marmaris is catching up with its frenetic nightlife. Unlike these tourist destinations, the Bozburun Peninsula’s coastal scenery remains sheltered from overzealous hoteliers and developer by conservation laws.

“I just didn’t understand the point anymore, it was all about stealing time from life, somehow meeting friends, eating, getting enough sleep and getting to work,” Ufuk said. “This is a lifestyle choice, is it smart? Too early to tell.” While some of their friends questioned their decision to give up successful careers, the Cakmaks are happy in Bozburun. And why shouldn’t they be, life moves at a pace even the most languid human being could keep up with.

A private bus service operates from Bozburun, connecting you to nearby towns, and the schedule is advertised on a massive placard by the little jetty. We decide to cancel the private car we had booked and try their local transport, and it turns out to be an experience not suited to the faint-hearted.

The bus winds from cove to cove, offering glimpses of brilliant blue bays that turn a deep emerald in the middle, their waters flecked by white sails ballooning in the brisk breeze. The driver makes several unscheduled stops to drop off packages and pick up passengers on the roadside. Several sharp turns and 45 minutes later, the bus pulls into Marmaris, and onto paved roads. The passengers expel their breath in collective relief. The bus ride was the most excitement anyone has had in weeks. It slows and the driver belts up, a sheepish grin on his face, “Danger here, police,” he explains, as he drives slowly through the sprawling town of Marmaris.

If You Go...

• Stay:

In Bozburun: Sabrinas Haus 60 Euros +90 (252) 4562045 www.sabrinashaus.com

• Getting There:

Fly from Istanbul into Dalaman airport (an hour, 20 minutes) and then take a two-hour taxi (3 persons) or mini-bus (4-8 persons) to Bozburun for $150.

• Sail:

Rent a traditional wooden boat or gulet with a skipper. If you are out there with a bunch of friends, this is a wonderful way to see the southern coast of Turkey. You could charter a boat by yourself, but if you’re concerned about denting your wallet, consider asking up to five other couples to join you. If you don’t mind sailing with strangers, gulet brokers will sometimes take on a couple if they have a partially booked segment. Contact Oktay Unlu at [email protected] for rates or look on www.guletbroker.com

• Eat:

Swim up to Orfoz next to Sabrinas Haus and watch as they make you a meal out of the octopus and fish they’ve just caught (www.orfoz.com) — its pricey but worth every Turkish lira, or venture back to town, and sample some of the many little kebab houses that serve delicious skewers of delicately spiced ground meat, or the very thin Turkish pizza everyone serves, or one of the many vegetarian concoctions on the menu.

• Tip:

After a meal, say the words ‘Ilay nay say salak’ to your server who will often be also be the chef, and see his smile widen. The phrase means ‘health to your hands’ and is similar to saying ‘compliments to the chef.’