F rom the rooftop of the castle where I’m standing, a panorama of blue-grey turrets stretches into the distance. The effect is like staring into a kaleidoscope. It’s a fairytale sight, the intricate white-painted fronts and curved balconies resembling a collection of adult-sized doll’s houses.
The fantasy quickly falls apart, though. Many of the castles further into the complex have only bare concrete facades. In between them, spaces intended for manicured lawns have been reclaimed by wildflowers, some so tall that their petals and fronds stretch up to the first-floor balconies.
An eerie silence is broken only by birdsong and the occasional passing car. It is a warm summer day in August 2023 and there is no one here except a bored security guard and Adem Tekgöz, our tour guide to this bizarre ghost town in the Turkish countryside. Tekgöz represents the Sarot Group, the developer of this crumbling fantasy land, and his surly demeanour suggests he is not keen to show off their work to new visitors.
“It gets cold in the winter, so we stopped construction. We’re preparing to restart next summer,” he says, brushing aside the question of why no work is taking place now. No matter: Tekgöz appears confident that a lick of paint and reconnecting the electricity to the wires strung between the castles will breathe life back into the project.
As we inspect the interiors, where wires dangle from bare ceilings, it’s clear that some of the rooms have water damage, presu.
