As I wrote about when I lived in Rome, I am a huge fan of the bidet. During the pandemic, during the toilet paper shortage, some people switched to the bidet.
Typical toilet with bidet, flush, toilet paper, and trash can.
Now that I live in Turkiye, I am back in the land of bidets. But, unlike in Rome, the bidet is a nozzle of water that is part of the toilet. Usually, it is a small spout in the back of the toilet under the toilet seat. It is activated by turning a handle on the right side of the toilet somewhere on the wall. The flush is usually a flat button (usually there is a small and large flush button) built into the wall behind the toilet.
In some countries, the seatless style of toilet where one squats over a hole in the floor, is called a, “Turkish toilet.” Some consider this more hygienic as no part of the skin makes contact with the toilet. This squat style toilet is not so common anymore in big cities in Turkiye. One still finds them in public toilets at malls and out in the countryside. Most of the toilets here have the bidet function and toilet paper for drying off. Many toilets in Turkiye cannot handle toilet paper so there may be a trashcan nearby.
A squat toilet which in other countries is often called a “Turkish toilet.”
Another thing about Turkiye is that people wash their hands a lot here. Before they eat and after. With every meal, there are wet wipes and napkins available. Plus, the “cologne” that is splashed on your hands after the meal which works like a sanitizer.
One thing to note about Turkiye is that people eat with both hands. In Bangladesh, another country with many muslims, people rarely ever used their left hand when eating.
Often outside the bathroom, in restaurants, there is a sink for handwashing. And at mosques, there are places to do one’s ablutions.
A place to wash one’s feet.
Modern Turkey is a secular country so maybe that has something to do with how things are.
All I know is that I love the built-in modern Turkish toilet, the bidet.
At the super cute puppy stage. This one lives at the kayak club.
Türkiye is famous for the cats and dogs who live on the streets and “belong” to everyone. The dogs who have been fixed so they can no longer produce, have a tag on an ear. There are bowls of water and food in front of many shops and people generally take care of these animals, including grooming them.
This dog has a tag on the ear.
So if you don’t want to have your own pet, you can just get friendly with the ones on the streets. I am accustomed to the one dog who hangs out by the exit to the mall. And the other two who sleep on the steps. It just seems normal.
Dogs napping on the mall steps.
As for the kittens and puppies, watch out. You might end up adopting them.
This is my first Ramazan (Ramadan) in Adana. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I recalled from Dhaka, that during Ramadan month, those observing Ramadan did not eat or drink during daylight hours. Every evening, the breaking of the fast, iftar, was a celebration. There were celebrations with family and gifts given. It was a festive time.
Ramadan follows the moon so this year is in the winter (February 18 to March 19). This year is the year 1447 in the muslim calendar.
So what is different her in Adana? Adana is a fairly open minded place. When I got to Adana, the locals told me that I should expect to see restaurants open during Ramazan and that people would also be drinking alcohol. This is so. Also, many restaurants closed for the first week of Ramadan but then opened up again.
Mini pide with mozzarella, potato, white cheese, sausage, and kale.
What was great interest to me was the food. Apparently eating “pide” is a Ramadan thing. It’s also an every day thing, but more so at this time. I noticed a different kind of mini pide and I have a feeling that these are only available during Ramadan. Today, March 14, is international pi/pie day (3.14) and pide is a kind of pie so quite appropriate.
Many bakeries are open around the clock so that was something to try out during this time. I discovered some lovely bakeries and almost all gave me samples, tried to serve me tea, and gave me freebies. Very hospitable.
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.
I like Adana. I like living in Adana. And the flies in Adana like me. The moment I step outside, the fly is dive bombing straight at the corner of my mouth. (I now see why ladies of olden times wore gauze around their heads.) When we go out to eat if outdoors (and sometimes indoors), there will be a fly that will start to buzz around our food and our heads.
If you recall, I carried mosquito rackets with me in Dhaka. While I have yet to see a mosquito here in Adana, I decided that I needed a fly racket to defend myself and my khavalti (Turkish breakfast) from the flies. I bought an electrified fly racket at Koctas (like Home Depot), the home goods store. It didn’t seem to work. Maybe because it was too small and cute. I bought another.
But, more than that, I had seen that one of the bakeries used a table fly fan to keep the flies off their baked goods. I went hunting for it. The electronic stores did not have it. The home goods store did not have it. No one had it. I had to buy it on Trendyol, an online shopping site, and when I got it, I went on another adventures to find D3 batteries. It turns out that one can use two AA batteries instead. I was in the store and when the employees helped me with finding the batteries that worked, they seemed a bit disappointed for me that the fan was not going fast. I used Google translate to explain that this was not a fan to keep me cool but a fan to keep the flies off my food.
I don’t think they believed me.
A note about online shopping. The first couple of items that I bought online, the delivery person called to get the verification code, then hunted me down to hand deliver to me. A third item required me to go to the post office for retrieval. Now, Trendyol is growing accustomed to me and they just hand the items to my doorman. I am not endorsing Trendyol but if you use them through the internet, the site will get translated and that makes shopping easier. If you don’t speak Turkish.
When I told people I was moving to Adana, Turkiye, everyone told me that it’s hot in Adana. It was a 109 F (43 C) the other day. That is “sicak” in Turkish. Because the “c” in Turkish is a “je” sound like in “John” saying “it’s hot” sounds like “Say Jacques” (no es sound like in Jacques Pepin). So now I’ve learned that Turkish phrase.
My Turkish colleagues tell me that Adana is so hot that sometimes the locals will shoot at the sun… and in 2023 (when it was even hotter), some shopkeepers celebrated the inventor of the air conditioner. See the YouTube video here. Luckily, there is lots of air conditioning. But it makes exploring the city something that has to be done really early in the morning, or later in the year.
Chasing watermelons.
It is melon season so it is easy to keep up one’s electrolytes. Here they like to eat watermelon with white cheese, “beyaz peynir” (like feta but they don’t call it that here).
I had planned not to go outside for four months during the hot season, but with my linen scarf and sun hat, I actually do venture out. From air conditioning to air conditioning. After all, I lived in Dhaka, Rome, and Washington, DC, three other cities that get very hot. The difference is that Dhaka is hot for about ten months and it is humid.
Adana’s hot months are June-September. I arrived in the middle of the hellishly hot weather. It can only get cooler, right?
Aromatic, seductive, entrancing, spiced crumbles of ground lamb, warm like an embrace, soft like sweet nothings, strong like passion… is what you feel, smell, sense, when you bite into the flaky crunch of the thick golden samosa crust.
I miss Vik’s samosa.
Photo does not do it justice.
I liked the dosa and I liked that he has children’s dosas. I love the chutneys and sauces. I love the strong substantial mango lassi, bright yellow like a sunny memory. I liked the pani puri (small chickpea ‘bowls’ which one stuffs with more chick peas and ‘water’ if one gets the kind with lots of spicy sour ‘water’).
Dosa is a crepe like wrap. This one is ‘masala’ so filled with potatoes and spices.
Viks Chaat (‘chaat’ means ‘to lick’ as in the food is so good you will lick the plate) is a hidden gem on 4th street in Berkeley, California, serving Indian street food. It has been around since 1989. Don’t go to any imitations. Go hungry. Sit indoors or out. Eat in or take away. Tell yourself that one portion is enough.
Pani puri — pani means water. Pani puri with the spicy ‘water’.
I often write about markets, perhaps because as a a child, my imagination was fired up by stories about exotic markets with fluttering fabrics and adventures down narrow alleyways. The result is that, in every city I visit, I visit the market. The great market of Cairo, Khan el-Khalili, is extremely touristy, but maybe I should have appreciated getting away from the traffic.
I think I prefer the one in Istanbul. When I lived in Colombia, one of my favorite places in Bogota was the Paloquemao market.
In Peru, I went regularly on field trips to explore the markets. One thing I recall is that they always had a bathroom. I went to a couple of “dicey” ones including the fabric market near Sodom, Gamarra. When I visited the fish market, it seemed like it would be something from a Tarantino film but the reality was more late night shopping channel.
Another surreal place was the market in Caracas. There was an abundance of food but no one could afford it.
When I moved to Bangladesh, I had no idea what the markets would be like.
Another market that I return to all the time is Torvehallerne in Copenhagen.
It has been ten years since I left Bangladesh, but luckily I can once again taste the taste of home cooked authentic Bangladeshi food. Mahmuda is an excellent cook and she sells food from her home. You can also go to her place to experience a home cooked meal and learn about Bangladeshi culture. Mahmuda has a huge personality and speaks English with a feisty animated volume.
Bangladeshi food is spiced but not spicy as in hot on the Scoville scale. There is a lot of clove, cardamom, cinnamon, and mustard seed. There is regional food in Bangladesh and a whole type of cuisine, bhorta, that is sort of like “small plates, mezze, tapas, dim sum…” as in you get many small dishes and pay for what you eat. I hope that Mahmuda will make some of these in the future.
Shrimp in a coconut curry.
In Bangladesh, one eats with one’s right hand. I am not so good at that so I eat with a knife and fork. But you can try eating with your right hand if you want to. A meal at Mahmuda’s includes a starter, main, and dessert even though Bangladeshi food does not follow this concept.
The rice being cooked.
The curries in Bangladesh are not as soupy as they are in Britain or the US. Many of the Indian restaurants in the UK and the US are actually run by Bangladeshis. The Brits list curry —chicken tikka masala as their national dish. The first Indian cooks in the UK were from Sylhet in Bangladesh, in what was India. British curry with the heavy use of tomato puree and cream is an invention, probably in Glasgow, that helped adapt to the British love of gravy.
Dal, lentils.
I am not sure what the prices are but with a group, a meal was around $50 per person. One can also order food for pickup.
Oshwya Ghor translates to “home kitchen” in the local dialect of Barishal.
There was also dessert. The Bangladeshis love sweets but these were not too sweet. One was a rice pudding and the other a sort of blondie.
I went to Egypt to see the treasured outpost of the Roman Empire. But, I also went because I wanted to see the traffic. Is that weird? Yes, and thank you. I had heard people say that the traffic in Cairo is the worst in the world. I have been in LA, Dhaka, Lima, Bogota, New Delhi, and NY traffic. Of all those places, I still vote that Dhaka has the worst traffic. Could Cairo take the crown?
Blocks of ice for sale blocking the Cairo traffic.
Yes, it can. The reason is that the traffic in Cairo is lethal. Cairo is much bigger than Dhaka and there are many roads where one can gain a great amount of speed, thus making traffic accidents more likely to be lethal.
A pick up point in front of the mosque. It was a calm day.
So, I would have to agree that Cairo has the worst traffic, but Dhaka has possibly the most interesting? In Dhaka one saw all kinds of things in traffic, from half a million rickshaws to elephants.
With those words, Augustus (as Octavian was known from 27 BCE) declared the Roman Empire’s conquest of Egypt. As I was considering the end of my Roman adventure, I felt like I needed to go to Egypt so see that important part of the Roman world. Although Rome is modern, it seems to live on as the Rome of 2,000 years ago. Back then, Alexandria was the Roman capital of Egypt. I hear that modern day Alexandria is a very mediterranean city. I did not go there. I went to Cairo.
Cairo reminded me a lot of Dhaka. But a scarier, more aggressive Dhaka. In Cairo, I could see how as a single woman, one would feel danger. I didn’t feel scared but I was also never alone. When my friend and I were in the souk, she wouldn’t let us go into the long narrow stalls because it was too dangerous. She made the vendors bring things out to the street for us to look at. Maybe I was more oblivious back then, but in Dhaka, I never felt that the men were too aggressive. They tended to want to take photos and stare but I was not too worried about getting mugged or molested. Maybe it’s my memory changing the reality or maybe I was more naive. I was also almost never alone in Dhaka.
The oldest coffee shop in Cairo, on the right, in the Khan el-Khalili souk.
The first day, my friend took me to the souk, the Khan el-Khalili market, as that was my wish. It was hot so that trip was fast. I got my postcards and we left. We ate lunch at a place in the souk. It is a very touristy place and my friend had to insist on some of the local dishes rather than the grilled meat platters being pushed on all the other tourists. I had the falafel which in Egypt is made with fava/broad bean rather than chickpea/garbanzo, and I had the baba ganoush, and the other dips. I liked the stretchy flat bread. There was always too much food and I could see that the Egyptians are extremely hospitable. The next day, we went to a cosmopolitan bakery in the Maadi and that was also nice. That neighborhood had the same dusty streets and dusty buildings of Dhaka.
The next day, the sun was out and the sky was a pale blue color. Sort of. Another Egyptian friend, Mohamed, a former colleague who had worked with me in Dhaka, and a colleague from that time picked me up with a driver for a day out. When my friend picked me up, he had to come in and have a bit of fruit and coffee. Hospitality is king. The day turned out to be like one of those days in Dhaka which went from 9 am to 11 pm. The driver was filled with facts and his English was good. I told him that he should be a guide. He said that he was! My friends had hired him for the day. We went to the Coptic Cairo (Old Cairo). On this street, there is a famous ruin from Roman occupation times, 2,000 years ago (30 BCE when Augustus conquered Egypt). The fort was built in Babylon and years later, the Hanging Church is built on top of the Roman fortress.
From the ring road.
Finally, I had to see the pyramids. They recommended the ring road. The pyramids looked quite nice from the distance and from an air conditioned car. I remarked so. At one point, the guide slowed down so that I could get the ultimate photo of a lush green field, a camel and donkey under two palm trees, and in the distance, the only remaining wonder of the ancient world, the pyramids. For breakfast, around noon, we went to a place that my Egyptian friend chose. It was a place where they make “Egyptian pizza” or “fatayer” which is thin layers of dough with filling. One was with honey and others were savory. We had one with mozzarella, bell peppers, and thin slices of dried meat. Then we had another with smoked sausage. All beef. This dish is my favorite Egyptian food so far. The dough is fried in clarified butter and the pastry takes on the sheen of golden stain glass windows. Yummy.
Fatayer, a “pizza” of a sort.
Later in the day, Mohamed asked if we were ready for dinner. My other friend recommended “Hagooga” a local place. Very local. So new and local that even Mohamed had never been. We went around 6 pm and it was not to busy but most of the 40 tables inside were filled with families and others. Only Egyptians. We sat indoors. This restaurant was so local that even the locals ignored us, the only foreigners.
“Whisky” water made from the salad dressing.
I got to try the famous “whisky” which is the salad dressing water from making the salad. We got the grilled meats, and other dips or “mezze” – not sure what it’s called in Egypt. I still preferred the breakfast pizza. At one point, Mohamed told me not to fill up on bread because we still had dessert. When were stepped outside, the courtyard was light with string lights and every table was filled with diners. There were twenty people waiting for tables. Another entertaining thing about Hagooga’s is that everything is branded with her smiling face and name. Even the brass lamps had her name stamped out.
Hagooga knows how to brand!
Most of the local women I saw in Cairo had their hair covered. I asked if this was law and although it is not, they cover their hair. It is windy, sunny, and dusty in Cairo, so I could see why it would make sense to keep one’s head covered. My friend also told me that most of them go and have their hair washed once per week, so maybe that is another reason.
El Rehab City mall.
For dessert, we went into Rehab City, a gated city. It was like entering Miami. We went to an outdoor mall/market and Mohamed got us platters of sweets. I recognized baklava but I don’t know the names of the others. I teased Mohamed that this, the eating of dessert, was the most serious I had seen him all day. The weather was quite pleasant at this point and I can see why the Egyptians are night people. I also saw a chicken shawarma that was at least 200 pounds. After the sweets, Mohamed said that it was time for gelato. We protested but then he mentioned that they have mastic/mistica. I had to try it. I first tried mistica 20 years ago in Greece. In Greece, the mistica, a white honey like textured resin from a mediterranean bush, is served on a teaspoon in a glass of water. One licks a bit of the mistica off and sips a bit of water, each sweetening the other. This gelato was not like that.
One of the gates of old Cairo.
Finally, the fun day out was over. Just like my tour of the ancient Roman empire, and Rome.
Photos don’t convey the cool breeze and the sense of being up high.
Eating at La Tagliata Fattoria (the slice factory) in Positano will make you feel like you are eating at the home of the Gods’ farmstead. Positano is a cute but touristy town on the Amalfi Coast. There is a walk on the coast called the Walk of the Gods. One can see why. (Another place that looks like a film location is the town of Ravello, famous as a wedding location. This is where they filmed Wonder Woman’s home planet, and one can see why when gazing down on the sapphire waters sparkling with the sun’s rays like gold dust).
A famous 500 (cinquecento).
One day, I was eating lunch with someone from Naples. When I mentioned that I was going to Positano, she mentioned that I should eat at La Tagliata (La-Tie-yah-tah) in Positano. She said to tell the family that she had sent me.
What a view for lunch.
When we made the reservation through our hotel, we didn’t name drop. Normally the restaurant sends a car service because the road is switchbacks and treacherous, but that is only at night. We took a taxi. Everyone in Positano seems to know where this restaurant is located. The road was narrow, steep, and not for those with a fear of heights. We drove steadily (well, curvily) up and up and up. Finally, we arrived at La Tagliata Fattoria. The structure in front of us was wooden and it appeared to be mainly stairs. In front of the restaurant are some antique cars. Once we went down the first flight of stairs, in awe of the view that we could see, we arrived at a small square. There were more stairs but also an elevator! One of the staff was there and he told me to take the elevator. So I did. The restaurant is located down two levels and one pops out in the kitchen.
Their farm is a hanging garden like the famous hanging gardens.
The restaurant is an open air wooden deck and wowza, is the view amazing. We were gobsmacked. How could anywhere be so utterly beautiful?
We were there early so they were setting up for a larger group.
It turns out that this place is run by three generations of the family who grow, raise, slaughter, and produce all the food that they serve you. The grandfather who started this place was grilling steak on open flames and the grandmother was in the kitchen prepping everything else. We were warmly greeted by everyone. It was like eating with cousins. When we sat down, I told the waiter that my colleague had sent me. The whole family erupted with joyous, “oh, they are friends of…” We didn’t receive different treatment because of this connection. We were still treated like family.
These were just starters and we were already feeling a bit overwhelmed with food.
There is no menu as they family cook whatever they are making that day but that is about 20 different dishes. We had wine that they make and the appetizer dishes involved eight or nine dishes of vegetables, rice salad, cheeses, and cured meats. Then we had pasta dishes, served family style. When we saw the size of the carnivores serving, the vegetarian thought she was going to get away with a smaller portion… not so! After the pasta course, was the steak, fries, and salad course. Then desserts. Then fruit. Then limoncello. Then espresso. The food can’t get more farm to table than this.
Beans.Pastas.Broccoli and chicory leaves.Deli meats. All made by them.Salad for the steak. Steak. Best I’ve had in Italy so far.
We were wondering how expensive this would be after a 150 euro tourist trap the day before, but for three, it was 100 euro total. I asked if I could buy some of the house wine. The middle generation waiter came out with two bottles. He presented one, holding it against his chest, and said, “from my father, my uncle, my mother, this is for you.” Then he took the other bottle and held it the same way and said, “from my son, from me, from our hearts, this is for you.” It was sweet.
They make red and white wine. Like lots of house wines, it’s good for a house wine.
It turns out that La Tagliata is famous. Alongside family photos of the first generation plotting out fields hanging on the sides of the cliffs, there are photos of former presidents and other famous visitors.
Wall of family photos in front of the kitchen.
While we were there, the grandfather talked to us once in a while but I didn’t understand a word he said. It didn’t seem to matter. The grandson, a handsome youth, speaks English and guided us through most of the meal.
When you need a break from the food, you can wander through the family’s hanging garden of a farm. Not for the mobility challenged. But good if you want to meet the farm animals.
When I think of the wonderful experiences that I’ve had in Amalfi and Italy, this place still stands out as the THE REASON to go to Positano. Sorry to the rest of the town, but this is it! Oh, and a boat ride with Alessandro is nice (more about that another time). La Tagliata is a little slice of perfection.
The path to the bathrooms which have light sensors and other modcons.
The family also rents out two rooms but I don’t know how rustic those would be. It looks like I’ll have to go back when it’s not so hot. I’m sure I’ll be greeted like family.
