“IT IS always something with Turkey,” says Metin Keskin, our host: “Terrorism, then the Iraq War, this year bird flu, maybe next year trouble with Iran. But still, we are happy to say, the British come back to Kalkan.”

With Paula, his English wife, Metin owns a restaurant and villas in the harbour of Kalkan on Turkey’s “turquoise” Mediterranean coast, where they have been welcoming Brits for years, come what may.

Times Travel reported earlier this year that, in the wake of four deaths from bird flu in Turkey, bookings by Germans were down by 40 per cent, and they were all off to the safety of Spain. Which leaves more Turkey for us to enjoy. British bookings also took a dive in the New Year after claims that bird flu had reached “the gates of Europe”. But bookings have since recovered as tourists c ame to their senses.

Turkey has now been declared bird-flu free. Even before that announcement, the ultra-cautious Foreign and Commonwealth Office advised that the risk of British visitors being exposed to the virus was “low”. In a sophisticated resort such as Kalkan, it is effectively nil.

Those Turkish children died in the poorer east of the vast country, far away from the southwest resorts. They had been “playing” with the head of a dead bird. So if you are worried, stick to being a tourist, don’t play the “poorist”, and if your children get tired of all the sun and sea just tell them to play with their video games rather than chicken carcasses.

Here is my antidote for anybody still suffering from bird flu-phobia (the irrational fear of avian influenza). First, take an outside — or better yet, roof terrace — table at one of Kalkan’s 100-plus restaurants. Second, eat the local chicken — flame-grilled as a sish, roasted on a spit, stewed in an earthenware pot that they gently break open at your table, or (perhaps most therapeutic of all) stuffed with figs at Metin and Paula’s restaurant, Zeki’s. Repeat until symptoms desist. Then start on the fish menus.

Kalkan is living testament to Turkey’s development, and to the fact that tourism need not be the malevolent force that is often claimed today. Where once locals had to flee the harbour in summer to avoid mosquitoes, now visitors flock to it. The war against the mosquito continues, of course — look out for the flame-throwing bug vans that leave smoke hanging over the still streets at night — but the humans are winning.

We stayed in the splendid Villa Alev, a few minutes’ walk from the old village. Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, freshwater pool. Spa, tiled floors, pillared balconies, air-conditioning, otherwise nothing special. To sit at the poolside looking out over Kalkan’s horseshoe harbour, you could imagine yourself on the Côte d’Azur without the pretentiousness. Drive along the mountain-backed road to Kas, and you might be touring the Amalfi coast.

My wife Virginia and I first went to Kalkan ten summers ago, before we had our two daughters. Returning in June, we found the town full of couples as we were then, and families as we are now. There is one loud-ish bar these days, but still no nightclub.

There has been a lot of development around Kalkan and well-built villas and holiday apartments dot the hillsides. Rising land and property prices have made some locals rich. But the developments are less welcome to some Brits, who remember Kalkan as they think it once was or bought a house there before “everybody else” did. Their complaint against the new buildings is less Not-In-My-Back-Yard, more Not-In-Front-Of-My-Sea-View.

We, on the other hand, were struck by the improvements that tourist-driven development has brought. The roads are better (and with a new tunnel being cut through the mountains the transfer from Dalaman airport should be further improved), and there are fewer power cuts. The old centre of the town around the harbour is strictly protected from new development to maintain its character. But here too there have been changes for the better in the facilities — and the food.

In Kalkan, where there is a roof there is a restaurant. You could eat out twice a day and not get halfway through your “must try” list. Competition has made the town a gastronomic treat. Look for places advertising “home cooking” menus. Many prices here are not cheap by Turkish standards, although the most we paid for three top-class courses, wine and trimmings for four was 170 new Turkish lira — under £60 — at the Korsan Fish Terrace, with a view that could cost you that much a head in Cornwall.

If you want something “less touristy” between meals, you don’t have to go far. Nearby villages such as Islamlar, where every house seems to have solar panels, a satellite TV aerial, a grapevine and a goat, welcome visitors with tea and trout restaurants. Farther afield, don’t miss wading through the freezing water and drinking from rock streams at Saklikent gorge, or clambering (along with the local tortoises) over the ruins at Xanthos (at least, those that are not back home in the British Museum).

Those who seek the “authentic” Turkish experience can stay in one of the old pensions near the stunning Patara beach. Those content to be tourists, meanwhile, can head back to the smart villas and hotels of Kalkan, perhaps stopping for a Turkish bath before dinner. Men in search of a little more edge should try the barbers in Kalkan. Everybody ought to be shaved with a cut-throat razor at lightning speed and have the hairs burnt off their ears with spirit at least once, preferably while trying to conduct an argument about football with a barber who doesn’t speak English.

Holidays are supposed to be about escaping the stresses of everyday life, and Kalkan is a place to forget everything. When we arrived I jumped in the pool with my mobile phone (which also serves as watch and calendar) in my pocket. So I woke up the next morning neither knowing nor caring what time or day of the week it was — my idea of a holiday mood.

Our daughters usually say they like our holiday venues, but would still rather live in London. This time they said they wouldn’t want to live in the Villa Alev, as it is “too perfect, and you could get spoilt”. That is a risk worth taking, at least for a fortnight.

Need to know

Mick Hume and family travelled with Tapestry Holidays (020-8235 7777, www.tapestryholidays.com). A week’s self-catering at the Villa Alev costs from £940pp, based on a family of four sharing. Prices include flights from Gatwick, transfers and hire car.