Snow capped Taurus mountains in the distance behind the lake, on a rare day with blue sky in January.
And now for the weather. Before I got to Adana, everyone told me it was too hot. They were right. It is too hot and for too long. I was looking back at photos from November and I remember sweating. But then January and February happened. And it rained 15 months worth of rain in 40 days. Like something out of the bible.
So now I will assume that winter in Adana is all about rain, flooding, potholes, and thunderstorms.
There were days in January when the temperature at night got close to freezing. That is cold. I was told that there would be a sweet spot in October November when it was great weather. I think it was hot. So now, I’m told that the next perfect weather time is April May. We will see. Maybe it goes from rainy storms to blistering hot?
Since you can’t take an Adana kebab as a souvenir, one has to (has to) find a magnet or mug as a souvenir. Recently, I was at the women’s cooperative, Adana Kadın kooperatifleri Birliği, for brunch and it turns out that they also have a shop (one is sitting surrounded by things to buy) so that is my recommendation for where to buy souvenirs.
Adana is famous for its clock tower, orange festival, Roman bridge, and the kebab. This shop, located conveniently in old Adana (just down from the clock tower, on the side of a park, Ziyapaşa Parkı), is a nice reprieve from the heat and bustle. Or cold and wet.
The orange festival is the biggest event of the year in Adana.
Aside from souvenirs like magnets, they also have handmade items and food for sale. And as I mentioned, you can eat there. The staff are very nice. It is hard to not buy a basket or hammer pants (which is the baggy style that many people wear here).
The other place I would recommend for souvenirs is Starbucks. Sounds odd? The Adana mug is adorable.
There are also other places to find souvenirs but one has to search. Or stick to the main touristy street.
When a cup of tea costs $20, then you might as well get as many brews out of it as possible. The tea tasting I did in New York seems a world away from Adana, and centuries ago.
One of the pours.
When I went to Chinatown Flushing in New York, I went on a tea tasting at Fang Gourmet Tea. After selecting two teas (at $20 each), the tea connoisseur explained the tea, washed the miniature cups in hot water, and brewed the tea. Five times for each tea. After each brew, we tasted the tea again.
The tea changed color with every brew.
I’ll admit that this may be too subtle for me. After a while, it just tasted like ‘tea’ to me. I could see the change in color, but I started to hallucinate that I was making up flavors and aromas just because I was supposed to be able to detect them… actually, what I found most interesting was the tea person. She had worked there for decades. She was calm and deliberate with all her movements. She really sensed every nuance in each brew… and I think she found our obtuseness a bit amusing.
The skein of a filter.
After the tasting, we could buy the teas. These are not cheap. Nothing below $45. The shop was filled with tea paraphernalia that we could buy.
Fast forward a few centuries and I live in Adana where tea is offered at every meal. And in between. But here the tea is the color of mahogany. (Turkiye has the highest per capita of tea drinking at three kilos per person, per year.)
One should only expect that every pilaf eatery is host to its own Turkish drama.
As I mentioned in another article about the meat market, I was actually on my way to a famous pilaf restaurant. After the meat market, I found my way back to the rice eatery. This type of rice restaurant is most common in Istanbul but there are some in Adana. This particular one has been open for 60 years. Now the grandson runs it on a daily basis although the grandfather does show up to keep the wait staff in order (like to tell them to get to work instead of talking to me… oops, sorry)
Like in most local places, or so it seems, the young teen touts are the ones that get you into the shop. Here there were two of them. One was wheeling a scratched blue wheelbarrow containing a large tinfoil covered cauldron. I followed him in. He proudly lifted the cauldron onto the counter and lifted the foil to reveal the steaming broad beans simmering in tomatoes. I did not order that. I was here for the rice pilaf with chickpeas (garbanzo beans) with shredded chicken breast meat on top. And the potato vegetable sauce. Oh, and the yogurt dressing not to be called tzatziki. It is called cacik (jaw-jik) here. But that is also another story.
I ordered and was guided to a table near the action. Once I sat down, the teen waiter sat down across from me with his lunch. The other teen waiter chatted to me from the next table as he used his Google translate to find questions for me. As I tried to eat without spilling (almost impossible when being watched and filmed?), the 20-something manager and the teen waiters asked me questions… Are you married? Where is your family? Where are you from? Are you here alone? Why? What do you do for work? Is America beautiful? Why are you not married? Take me with you. Mostly the teen waiters asked me these questions. I tried to deflect them as vaguely as possible and with my own questions. How old are you? Why aren’t they in school? They leave school at 12? The other waiter, a man who looked familiar in that way that he looked very Turkish, stood quietly and said nothing. I am sure I have seen his face somewhere. Maybe on the eatery’s social media.
Salt and spicy pickled chilis to taste.
Then, a man entered. He had a strong jaw and longish locks of hair curling over his thick brows. Omar worked there as well. The other boys and men in the pilaf shop extolled Omar’s English skills. Omar (I don’t recall his real name so I’ve named him after the main character in Black Love Money, a Turkish drama) had worked in Istanbul for six years at a deluxe hotel and that was why his English was as good as it was. Omar took a plate of food and sat on the tiny stool next to me. He had a moody sort of attractiveness about him that I could see the ladies might like. He looked to be about 38 so he was probably 22. Life can age one here, especially for those working since the age of 13, and smoking from before then.
Omar had recently returned to Adana. To fight with his family. He has ten brothers and sisters. He fights with his mother, his father, his brothers, and his sisters. The teen waiters and the grandson manager told me this. The silent one, who looks so familiar, nodded in concurrence. Omar fights with his family. Yes. It is so.
I asked why.
It seems that Omar lives, lived, his life as he wants and is not married with children, like he is supposed to be. Omar then said that life is bad here. He wants to go to America. The teen waiters chimed in at this point. One told me that he wants to go to Germany. Omar, and the teen waiters, wanted me to take them to America. (This reminds me of a taxi ride I had a month or so ago when the driver, through my friend’s translation skills, at first suggested that I marry him and take him to America… but then, when I told him that he was too young, offered to be adopted by me. As a joke, I said that I would have to give him a new name as well. He spent the next ten minutes laughing and saying, “Give me a name! Adopt me!” which made my Turkish friends laugh so that the taxi was rocking with our collective merriment.) At the rice shop, the question was, “When do you go? I go with you.” As if life were so simple.
Rice pilaf with chicken and meat gravy, yogurt sauce, and bread.
Speaking of proposals, this is when the drama gets Turkish. And romantic. And tragic.
Omar told me that he had met a Lithuanian girl. They fell in love. She went back home. He was going to move to be with her. Then, he found out that she had died in a car accident. As he told me this, Omar quickly wiped the corner of his eye and said, “I am not going to cry. My heart is broken.”
What a sad story.
Always tea.
At that moment, the grandfather gave a command and Omar got up. There were tables to clean. Customers to serve. Not.
I got up and paid. I had places to be. One of the teen waiters told me to give them a five star rating.
If you are wondering, the rice pilaf with chick peas was good. My meal cost 130 Turkish Lira ($3). I left a 200 note. One of the teen waiters said, “Ah, the tip” which I am sure they got from the YouTubers who made this place famous. I am not sure that the Turkish drama is told every time.
The lunar, Chinese, new year is February 17 to March 3 this year. Here is a memory of eating Chinese hotpot last year.
The OG (original gangster — a name from the 1970s for the “original”) of hot pot is a place called Hai Di Lao.
We ordered too much.
The first Hai Di Lao restaurant was opened in Sichuan, China, in 1994. Now it is a global chain with over 1,000 locations. When in Flushing, New York, we had to go.
Selection of meats.
First, even if you think you can hack spicy, go lower. We got the spiciest and the pain for the next, sleepless, 12 hours was not worth it. Never again (I hope I remember this next time!).
More stuff, from lotus root, tofu skin, dumplings, etc.
Second, make a reservation. The location in Flushing is massive. We were at table 89. The place is fun for families and there are treats in the waiting room (fresh soy milk! wowza).
Multi level swinging shelves.
Third, remember that you can order more… don’t go all out first time round. Remember to order the hand pulled noodles so that you get some good video of the guy spinning around and flipping noodles at you like a lasso.
Chicken skin.
Fourth, enjoy the aprons. It helps with the mess (and drooling?).
My dipping sauce bowl.
As you may know, sichuan peppercorns and other chiles are addictive. So while I enjoyed the spicy hot pot, I could not sleep that night and the pain in my tummy was too much.
A final note on OG. I always thinks it stands for original goat.
Adana is closer to Aleppo than it is to Istanbul. Adana is a hot dusty sandy city of two-three million people. There are all the elements of a big city but also the feel of a small outpost on the border.
A 24-7 bakery in old Adana.
Adana is a city of contrasts. People go about their lives. This was surprising to me. I love it.
A subsidized bread hut. Dogs are common on the streets.
Like in Peru, there are mototaxis, like Bangladesh, you see women who are covered up driving mototaxis.
Mainly, for me, it is a city without tourists. Or very few. The main tourist season is during the orange blossom festival in April. But otherwise, the tourist attractions in Adana are the Adana kebab, small old town, the Roman bridge, the enormous mosque, and the Varda bridge outside town. Compared to the frenzy of tourism in Rome, this is a nice break.
A kebab shop on every corner.
In ways, Adana reminds me of Dhaka. Both in weather and religion. But, Adana is not as humid as Dhaka. Adana has almost no mosquitoes but it has flies. But in Adana, there are air conditioning units everywhere. Oddly, cloves are prevalent in both cultures. In Dhaka, cloves were in much of the food. Here in Adana, one can chew on them to freshen the breath. There is almost no pork to be found. Coffee shops abound. But, in Adana, there are many places where people drink alcohol.
Boys playing in an industrial, poorer, part of town.
Adana even reminds me of Dhaka in some of the architecture. Aside from the architecture, there are people on the streets, playing backgammon, drinking tea, running after trucks… Also the love of “holiday lights” is a similar trait of these cities. Almost every city in the world enjoys stringing up festive lights during certain seasons. Same here.
A corner in a rich part of town near the old town.
But mostly the traffic in the city is similar to Lima, Cairo, or Dhaka. Dhaka still leads in most “interesting” traffic-wise. Nothing compares to Dhaka traffic. Nothing.
A view of the lake between new construction in the wealthy north part of town.
While this town is not that spread out, six or seven miles (8-10 kms) can seem very far and takes about 25 minutes by taxi. Like New York City, the neighborhoods change every ten blocks or so. Along the lake to the north, new complexes are rising like entire building blocks, all jostling for a view of the lake.
Are the locals, the Adanalis, friendly? Yes, but not overly so. It is polite to say hello, “Merhaba” when you meet a new person, enter a store, enter a taxi, etc. It is true that the locals will almost always offer you tea or coffee, if you spend enough time in their shop. It is a normal part of life. A tea stop. I have been here long enough that I find it odd when I don’t get offered “chai” at the end or beginning of meals and transactions. To accommodate the tea culture, there are always tea vendors (often boys of ten) running around delivering tea or collecting empties. While the locals are polite (although there are lots who simply stare) in general, I would not say that they are overly friendly. They are a bit reserved. They go about their lives and expect you to do so too, without being bothered by them.
A place to sit outside, to eat a kebab, or a wrap, or drink tea.
So, what’s it like in Adana? It’s chaotic, hot, dusty, cold, meaty (they love meat), and free of tourists. Also, almost free of foreigners other than refugees. There are some university students and some Americans (due to the air force base) but one rarely ever sees anyone “foreign” out and about. The locals still find it interesting when a foreigner gets in their taxi, or store, or restaurant, or walks down their street. One guy asked me, “Where are you going?” I guess out of concern? At other places, I have met that famous muslim or middle eastern hospitality where I am offered tea and delights and where they refuse to let me pay.
I love Adana sign in north Adana, a wealthy area.
Maybe I’m still in the honeymoon period where things seem so nice (and it is winter so I’m not boiling from the inside of my head whenever I step outside), but so far… I find Adana delightful.
Everyone loves decorations. All over Turkiye, you will see lights with stars and moons all over town.
At a gas station.
But, it is also easy to find Christmas decorations depicting Santa Claus or Christmas trees. Many Turks are tolerant and open minded and as they like to remind me, there is not a state religion in Turkiye.
The fries at Barks are the crispiest I’ve had in Adana.
I was trying to learn how to ask for my fries to be fried crispy and crunchy, and accidentally learned a slang word.
Citar (Che-ter): Crispy as in how I like my fries. Apparently also slang for a hot young thang. But for fries, I was told to ask for “citar citar olsun” and it worked.
Fries are a normal part of any “khavalti” — Turkish breakfast. To the left is menemen, a shakshouka-like egg dish.
I also learned that “mashallah” which is used joyfully as “god willing” is also slang for “fat.”
Türkiye, the nation, had the UN officially recognize the spelling of its name in English as Türkiye (tur-key-YAY) in 2022 to have the spelling match the pronunciation in Turkish. But it is still hard for some people to call it that. Even for the Turks, many of whom called it Turkey for decades and then had to change in 2022. By now, most remember. If one slips up, no one comments. They are forgiving.
But until then, why did the place and the bird share the same name?
The land was called, “the land of the Turks” = Turkey. Pronounced, tur-key-YAY, but in English the Y at the end doesn’t have that “yay” sound. The land, whatever its name, has had humans living on, in, it for a long, wait, really long, time. More than 12,000 years. That’s considered a long time in human history. One of the many names was “Asia Minor,” or “Anatolia” which derives from the Greek term for where the “sun rises” or “levant” which means to “rise” or “sunrise” and before that, “the Land of the Hattians.” So, even over here in Adana, all roads lead to Rome. But more about that some other time.
So how did it become “Turkey?” For that we move forward to 1077 when the Seljuk Turks set up their nation and called it the “Sultanate of Rūm” referring to the area being considered “Eastern Rome” and today rūm refers to Orthodox Christians who were in this part of the world since Christianity arose. Keep in mind that St. Paul was born in Tarsus, less than an hour’s drive from Adana. With the fall of Constantinople in 1453, Sultan Mehmed II declared himself, “Kayser-i-Rum” or “Caesar of the Romans” or Emperor. So all roads do lead to Rome… by the 12th century, Europeans, west of the Balkans, started using the term, “Turchia” which is what the modern Romans, Italians, call Türkiye. So even though the first of the Turkic groups to rule modern day Türkiye, called it something else, from this point on, the land started becoming more and more Turkish.
Chicken wing, chicken breast, and liver kebab.
Now, to the bird. By the way, as an aside, the way that the Turks give the bird is quite dramatic and done with flourish. More on that another time.
The bird, the Meleagris gallopavo, is indigenous to the Americas. When the Europeans encountered the bird, they called it guinea fowl or turkey cock/hen as they had seen pheasants and guinea fowl from Africa that looked similar. But, maybe not as big. In 1550, an Englishman William Strickland, who had introduced the bird to England (the first turkeys in Europe were taken to Spain by the Spanish from Mexico), was given a coat of arms which included the “turkey-cock in his pride proper.” Turkeys were introduced to North America by the English in the 17th century.
The bird was named after the country. Why? This article explains it well. Basically, when the birds were being traded for food, a confusion arose between the bird from the Americas with a bird from Africa…
But was it a fair trade? And should we re-name the bird? Call it the Mexican fowl? Or “huexolotl”? That’s the sixteenth-century Nahuatl, language of the central America, name. So for Americans who celebrate Thanksgiving or “Turkey-day”, they could say, “Happy Huexolotl!”
That said, here in Adana, they do not eat so much turkey. Mostly chicken.
Every meal will end in tea, or “çay” (chai). It might even start with tea, if it’s breakfast, but it will always end with tea. Turkiye is the highest consumer of tea. It is customary to offer tea — always.
You can try to say no, but you will still get it. It’s like water in the United States. I have already grown accustomed to it. I still can’t hold the cup which is HOT. But, I do like the tea. I take it with one cube of sugar.
Tea is a serious shopping item.As is sugar…
There is an art to tea. I’ll write more about that later as I learn more. But what I have learned is not to drink it straight up. Dilute with the hot water which is always part of the tea setup. I didn’t know this and was drinking tea that was darker than American coffee…
If you wander around Adana (probably elsewhere as well), you’ll notice bags of bread hanging places at convenient height. These are for the taking by those who need food. After all, bread is life.
Turkiye is famous for its cotton towels. Some places sell these for 30 or more dollars or British pounds. Some are small and made for wrapping around the waist. Others are for using as blankets, beach towels, tablecloths, etc. I found a place where the small ones cost 100 Turkish Lira ($2.39) and the large ones cost 300 TL ($7.17). Should I have bargained?
200 Lira per tablecloth/beach towel/throw.100 for these small ones.
The owners name is Serkan (There was someone else who worked there too but he seemed a bit giggly at the notion of a foreigner in the shop). Serkan spoke no English but was friendly and helpful. The store is located in old Adana city. It is not on Google maps. It is across the street from a shop called, “Demir organizasyon adana” which sells wedding stuff.
Serkan in front of the store.
I inadvertently bought quite a few things. I do not know if they take credit cards. I paid cash.
