Almost sixty families—Cretan Turks, or Turkokritikoi, as they are known—trace their roots back to Crete. These were Muslim Cretans who left the island at the end of the 19th century, particularly after the establishment of the Cretan State in 1898. That political shift sparked a sense of insecurity, prompting many to set sail for the southern Turkish coast. Their destination? The ancient city of Side, a Greek colony founded in the 7th century BCE in what is now the Antalya province. That land became their new home.
After the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, which mandated a population exchange between Greece and Turkey, many more followed. “When my grandparents arrived here, there were only a few fishing shacks along the beach near the ruins of the ancient city,” entrepreneur Murat Akime tells Kathimerini. “They didn’t speak the language, and the Turks called them ‘half-Greeks.’ They were met with suspicion—even hostility. But, like so many displaced Cretans, they were skilled, hardworking people. Our ancestors—carpenters, masons, blacksmiths, shepherds, farmers—literally built everything you see here. And they never forgot Crete. That love was passed down to us. So yes, I’m Turkish, but my soul belongs to Crete.”
Kathimerini" in Side, Turkey, at the first cultural and gastronomy festival in honor of the Cretan Turks
A Festival of Heritage and Flavor
Today, roughly 1,000 residents of the Manavgat municipality—where Side is located—carry Cretan ancestry, and their connection to their ancestral homeland remains strong. That story, “From Crete to Side,” became the title of the first cultural and gastronomic festival celebrating their roots. The four-day event was spearheaded by renowned chef Maria Ekmektsioglou, event organizer Yasemin Aslan, and their teams, following an initiative by Manavgat’s mayor, Niyazi Nefi Kara—himself of Cretan descent.
Ekmektsioglou, born and raised in Istanbul, has long built bridges between the two nations through food. Her culinary festival in Fethiye is now in its third year, and in September, she will launch a similar event in Kaş, just across from the Greek island of Kastellorizo.
A Parade of Cultures
Scenes from the “From Crete to Side” Festival. Turkish chef Dilek Yetkiner prepared stuffed zucchini blossoms (above), while Eirini Chatzifounta danced with the Chania Dance Group “Psiloritis” (below). [Aydin Cetinkaya]
On the festival’s opening night, Side’s main street turned into a vibrant procession. Locals and tourists flowed toward the harbor and the 2nd-century BCE Temple of Apollo. Leading the way was the municipal philharmonic playing “Senden Baska,” the Turkish version of “Milise Mou,” a beloved song by Manos Hadjidakis and Nikos Gatsos. A group of young people in traditional Turkish dress followed, and right behind them marched members of the Chania Dance Ensemble “Psiloritis,” proudly carrying the Greek flag. The crowd sang, clapped, and danced along, while amazed tourists—Side welcomes over 7 million visitors annually—snapped photos and filmed the spectacle.
An elderly woman stopped when she noticed the festival badge around my neck. “My name is Selma Karanta—‘Black Mountain’ in Turkish—and I’m from Ierapetra,” she said with a laugh. A third-generation Cretan Turk, she told me, “I’ve visited Crete three times, and I hope I get the chance to go again. My parents always spoke fondly of their village. My mother cooked Cretan dishes, taught me to use the same herbs and ingredients. My specialty? Myzithropites (cheese pies)!”
A Lost Homeland Preserved in Flavor
Eleni, Hera, Artemis, and Aphrodite — all from Cretan Turk families — posed for Kathimerini. [Aydin Cetinkaya]
The majority of Crete’s Muslim population were native Cretans who converted to Islam over time—some for privileges under Ottoman rule, others through coercion or intermarriage. But despite their conversion, their daily lives changed little. They still spoke Greek, wore traditional dress (only adding the red fez), ate pork, and drank alcohol—practices at odds with Islamic teachings.
In Side, food became the invisible thread connecting these families to their homeland. During the festival, six chefs—three from Greece (Yiannis Koufos, Apostolos Altanis, and Thessaloniki-based Pasquale Lembo) and three from Turkey (Esat Ozata, Dilek Yetkiner, and Maria Ekmektsioglou)—prepared a thousand dishes, from cheese-filled kalitsounia to stuffed zucchini flowers.
“Many of the women here still remember Greek words for everything,” says Ekmektsioglou. “One woman asked me what I was cooking, and I said, ‘sevketi bostan’—a Turkish term for wild greens. She corrected me immediately: ‘Ah, you mean askolymbrous! Say that, girl, so I understand!’ That’s the power of food. It remains our common language, a living link to their past.”
The same can be said for music. At concerts by Greek performers Sofia Vossou and Chrysoula Stefanaki, there wasn’t an empty seat.
Heirlooms and Heartstrings
As twilight settled, I wandered into the House of Cretan Culture, where heirlooms from the old country are lovingly displayed: copper cookware, black-and-white wedding photos, traditional stivania boots, embroidery, weapons—even a silk wedding dress. “Every family donated something to help create this small museum,” explains Mehmet Tsobanakis, a third-generation Cretan Turk. “So visitors can learn about our story.”
And what does being Cretan mean to him? He smiles.
“Being Cretan means having strength in your heart.”
