After the heat and dust of the coast, the sun-drenched valley with its lush meadows protected by a toothy ridge of the Taurus mountains looked like the Garden of Eden. A boy minding goats flashed a smile at us, a little girl hand-in-hand with a woman in a colourful headscarf and baggy pants waved shyly, the farmer walking behind tilling his field with a horse and wooden plough didn't break his rhythm.

When our little group of holidaymakers arrived for a day's excursion round a mountain village, we were so far off the beaten track that none of us could find our location on the map.

So it was something of a shock when a tiny figure in crisp, white shirt and trim shorts bounded energetically up to greet us. 'Welcome,' said Pauline, our guide for the day, in an unmistakable Glaswegian accent. 'This is my husband Erol, only everyone calls him Elvis.'

The first part of their story is familiar enough: British girl on holiday in Kalkan in 1991 meets Turkish boy - in this case, museum administrator Pauline and chef Erol. They fall in love and marry two years later. But, disillusioned by increasing development and what Pauline calls 'the rat race' on the coast, they decide to head for the slower pace of Erol's mountain village, 10 miles inland. They buy a patch of land from Erol's grandfather, sink a well and almost single-handedly build a house with a state-of-the-art kitchen for Erol and an organic garden for Pauline.

Now they run a B&B, Owlsland, from the old house that once belonged to Erol's grandfather. Pauline conducts walks, and organic gardening courses, while Erol holds 'Taste of Turkey' vegetarian cookery classes in the kitchen.

'Don't think of Bezirgan as poverty stricken,' says Pauline as we walk through the garden which is brimming with bright geraniums, pinks and roses. 'The people raise chickens, goats and cows, many of them taking their flocks down to the coast for the winter when it gets too cold in the hills. And they produce sesame, grapes, nuts and other crops - using the same intensely traditional methods as their ancestors have done throughout history.

'This area has been cultivated for centuries. The ruins of an ancient Lycian city, still unexcavated and more than 2,000 years old, are visible from our windows and the cemetery is still in use after almost as long. The farmers and their families have had to be hard-working and thrifty; at harvest time we get grannies falling out of the walnut trees - they won't leave a single nut unpicked.'

Entering the village is like walk ing into a timewarp. The 200-year-old cedarwood and stone houses, some with soil roofs as earthquake protection, are works of art - but many are sadly crumbling. The village water comes from wells - the better-off farmers have their own well and pump, while others use medieval yoke and pails to carry water from the communal well.

No one thinks it's odd to have TV but no running water and an outside toilet and most of the farmers follow the horse or ox-drawn ploughs with mobile phones clamped to their ears.

We meander through meadows knee-deep in herbs and poppies, but as the sun gets stronger, we are glad of the leafy lanes and copses of almonds, walnuts and mulberries.

Pauline greets most of the villagers by name: Aleksan, the bar ber who's wielding a wicked-looking cut-throat razor on a customer for a 30p shave; 85-year-old Fegmi, who sells just about everything from his tiny shop, sometimes peddling the items on foot round the village; Mustafa, the farmer, and Bezirgan's best dancer and drummer.

Fatih Esemen, the local imam is happy for us to see the mosque and examine the hand-carved bier which is still in use.

We come across a celebration - accompanied by steaming cauldrons of peppers, aubergines and courgettes. It is a farewell party for 20-year-old Ramazan, off to do his national service. 'Come in, come in,' the family and friends beckon, eager to pose for our photos. The younger girls, giggling but curious, are eager to practise their English. I was immediately hijacked by 12-year-old Aisha who wanted to discuss tennis and Wimbledon.

At the end of the excursion, we find ourselves again at Owlsland, which has been lovingly restored over the last few years, keeping the original carvings, woodwork and character. Balconies are strewn with colourful carpets and kilims, secret alcoves overlook orchards of figs and pomegranates; meals are freshly prepared using organic vegetables from the garden, and local produce. The result is an enchanting six-bedroom B&B.

'This kind of holiday isn't for everyone,' says Pauline. 'It's for holidaymakers who want to relax, read, get to know the village. They can walk along some of the Lycian Way, which is Turkey's first way-marked long-distance path, almost on our doorstep, and we're surrounded by archeological sites - the Lycian coast is one big outdoor museum.'

We get a taste of Erol's cooking, sitting in the vine-covered pergola round a table heaped with delicious mucvers (courgette fritters), boreks (filo pastry stuffed with feta cheese), turlu (Mediterranean vegetable stew) and other dishes that make the Turkish diet so healthy.

'I do miss a library,' Pauline admits. 'And you should be here when I find the chickens or wild tortoises plundering my veg patch. Then I become a real Turkish housewife.'

Factfile

B&B at Owlsland (00 90 242 837 5214) costs £15 a night, £25 half board, or £95 for a week's B&B, £155 half board.

The village walk is £20 including lunch and transport from Kalkan; the one-day cookery course is £28 including lunch and transport. Longer cookery courses, organic garden and painting courses (with artist Susan Dunlop from Glasgow) can also be arranged by Simply Travel (020 8541 2211), which also includes Owlsland in a 14-night tailor-made 'Off The Beaten Track' package in June from £964 per person, mostly on a B&B basis and including flights and car hire.