Mugla

Muğla exists because the Aegean coast needed a tourism metabolism. This sprawling province possesses Turkey's longest coastline—1,100 kilometers of bays, peninsulas, and coves where the Aegean meets the Mediterranean. Bodrum, Marmaris, Fethiye, and Ölüdeniz: the names alone evoke package holidays and superyachts, and that's precisely the economic logic Muğla exploits.

Bodrum was ancient Halicarnassus, home to the Mausoleum that ranked among the Seven Wonders. But the modern city emerged from a different accident: writers, intellectuals, artists, and musicians discovered a sleepy fishing village and made it fashionable. The population of 400,000 during off-season swells to over one million during peak tourism; 140,000 vehicles entered in a single week during high season. Bodrum's ports recorded 438,762 visitors in 2024, a 2% rise, bolstered by marina expansions at Palmarina Yalıkavak that accommodate the mega-yacht class.

Tourism now defines Turkey's national accounts: the sector will contribute an estimated $135 billion (about 12% of GDP) in 2025, making Turkey the world's fourth-most-visited country. Muğla captures disproportionate share—in August 2025, Russia (990,709 tourists) and Germany (989,839) sent nearly identical numbers to Turkey's Aegean coast. The province's 1.05 million permanent residents are hosts to a seasonal invasion that multiplies their number.

By 2026, Muğla faces the carrying capacity question every tourism monoculture eventually confronts. Eco-tourism and cultural heritage preservation now appear in strategic plans, but the infrastructure is built for mass hospitality. Whether Muğla can transition from volume to value—or degrades its coastal assets until tourists choose elsewhere—determines the next generation's inheritance.