The hot summers: It gets up to 110 F (44 C) almost every day for a few weeks and the rest of the three or so months (mid-June through mid-September) the temperature will be above 90 F (32 C) during the day for months on end. This heat is not too sticky but it’s not completely dry and you still sweat. A lot. There is one good thing about this heat and that is that there are minimal outdoor activities or anything outdoors during this time. And there is lots of air conditioning.
The smoking. They smoke. A lot. Even inside restaurants.
The traffic. Yes, it’s bad. In the city. The roads are in bad condition. Not everyone follows the rules. Is the traffic worse than Dhaka? No.
Chaos but no animals in the streets.
The flies — well that ONE fly that goes straight for my mouth when I step outdoors. Or buzzes around our food at the breakfast places. Ugh. Usually it is not a big fly. But after I bought the electric fly swatter, life changed. Now I just have to figure out a way to attach the fly swatter to my face…
The lack of international items other than Japanese sushi rolls. No real Indian food. None. There is pasta with curry or rice with curry but it’s nothing like curry.
The language. It’s hard.
Other parts of Turkiye look down on this city. Many treat it like the ugly step child… It seems like lots of people come from Adana but have left.
But, even with all these negative things about Adana, I like this city. Maybe because it’s the underdog.
Turkish meatballs are usually this shape although they can also be round.
I see the köfte (the Turkish meatball) everywhere in modern-day Turkish cooking. Never once have I thought how Swedish it seemed. It is surprising to think of it having a connection to Sweden. But, recently, I learned the origins of the Swedish meatball (köttbullar). Apparently, a Swedish King brought back the meatball from his travels to the Ottoman Empire.
In 1708, King Charles XII of Sweden decided to invade Russia. After a military defeat in 1709, he fled to the Ottoman Empire. The Swedish king went into exile for five days… but stayed for as a guest of the Ottoman Empire for five years. The Swedish king was at the Ottoman court for so long that the Ottoman treasury (who funded him) gave him the nickname, “registered immovable property.”
When King Charles XII returned to Swedish, he and his troops had acquired a taste for the Ottoman flavors ofmeatballs, stuffed cabbage, coffee, and sherbet. These foods entered the Swedish cuisine. The Swedish meatball was adapted to meet local tastes, including a creamy gravy, and lingonberry jelly. The first printed recipe for Swedish meatballs was in the 1755 cookbook by Swedish chef Casja Warg. As for the king, in 1718 when he tried to invade Denmark, again, he was fatally shot in the head.
Ikea in Turkiye sells the Swedish meatballs as a sandwich.
With the rise of Ikea, Swedish meatballs have become an internationally known dish. There is an Ikea store in Adana, out at the M1 mall, and they sell Swedish meatballs. You can even eat them at the cafe in the store. They are all beef as this is Adana.
In the freezer section at Ikea in Adana.
I wonder if the Turks enjoying the Swedish meatballs at Ikea think about the Turkish origins of their Swedish meatballs.
As I have done for all the places I’ve lived these past 15 years, I write about the pros and cons. This is the good stuff about living in Adana as a foreigner.
It’s a chill place even though the weather is hot in the summer. People are fairly relaxed here about dress code, lifestyle, smoking, drinking, etc. Live and let live. Cover your hair if you want. Wear shorts if you want. Hijabs next to mini skirts.
There are lots of coffee shops open late into the evening so that one can go out without going to a club.
Cups for sale.
There are thousands of restaurants in all price ranges. Every place will serve Turkish breakfast (kahvalti). Just ask.
A local eatery. A fancier restaurant.
The locals are friendly. Everyone has a phone so they can use a translator app.
There are no tourists. I mentioned that already in another article.
The great things about living in Adana are that it’s a vibrant city full of people going about their lives. Food is fresh and good. People are friendly. Taxis are cheap.
A man is not really a father until he has a daughter. This is what a Turkish man told me. Maybe it was a translation thing. I don’t know. But I thought it was an intriguing thing to say. I do not think that it meant that one should not have sons, but that one should also have a daughter. Sweet thought.
Turkiye is undergoing a downward trending birth rate. Less than the replacement rate. The birth rate has dropped by half from 1960 when it was three children per woman. Now, 1.5 per woman. The Turkish government has tried to encourage their citizens to have more children, but the cost of living is stopping people from having more children. The government called 2025, the “Year of the Family” and started paying money to families who had more children. But still, as one Turk said to me, “Who can afford it?” When I asked about his thoughts on having children.
As for the comment about having a daughter to become a “real father” — others have told me that this is not true. In Turkiye, there is still a preference for boys, so maybe this comment was a personal opinion?
There is a set price for bread.
Yes, the Turks also celebrate Fathers’ Day on the third Sunday in June. The first one was in 1910 in the United States. The Turks started celebrating a few decades ago. The Turks often celebrate Ataturk as they consider him the father of the nation. So maybe “every day is fathers’ day!”
Recently, I saw on the news that some places are being overrun by tourists. That locals are tired of tourists. I get the feeling. For me, the feeling has been a slow burnout for many years. Even though I realize that tourism is good for the economy (see my article on what to see and do as a tourist in Adana) and that it helps make a person more cultured… I don’t want to do it anymore.
Living in Adana has made me realize that I’m tired of tourism. Adana is the first city in which I’ve lived that is not a capital city or mega tourist destination. I have lived in Rome (35 million tourists visited in 2024 — in a city with over 4 million residents) and Washington, DC (25 million tourists visited in 2025 — the city has 6 million residents in the greater metropolitan area) — both cities with lots of tourists. Of course, it is possible to live out where there are no tourists in both those cities.
That’s another reason that I love Adana. Apparently there are a million tourists per year. But what I see is two million people living their lives. Most of them not working in tourism. I can’t even find an English-speaking tour guide! I’m not sure that they exist.
To answer the question from my previous article about how many of the touristy things I had done in Adana… only a few. Mainly the food related ones. Adana is known for its food tourism… I have been a food tourist. Sigh.
I was surprised to see these sheep grazing on this street in town.
This leads to a much deeper question of “seeing it like the locals” form of tourism. Maybe I’m that type of tourist. A sheep gawker tourist. Sheep are perfectly normal in Adana. But for me, it’s not normal. So maybe I’m a “novelty tourist?” Or a “sheep gawker tourist.”
The large mosque and the 1,700-year-old Roman bridge.
Adana is not a touristy city, but, here are the things one can do as a tourist. But, first things first. It is hot in Adana. From June through October, the temperatures can be above 86F/30C. Not super humid. In July, August, and September the temperatures are above 104F/40C. I recommend late October or April during the Orange Blossom Festival, Adana’s biggest tourist event.
Visit the old town around the clock tower and the old bazaar street.
Walk across the Roman bridge, still usable after 1,700 years.
Get a Turkish bath in a 500 year old bath house. Çarşı Hamami was built in 1529. Yes, you read that right. This bath house is located east of the main tourist street with all the shops. It is near the big clock tower.
A touristy sign in a touristy bit of Adana old town.
Visit the large mosque, Sabancı Central Mosque, the second largest mosque in the country. It is only 30 years old but is built in the style of the Blue Mosque which was built 400 years ago. While visiting the central park, walk along the river and maybe cross the hanging rope bridge.
The big clock tower and the main tourist street.
Buy some Turkish towels. I recommend venturing into the small streets downtown away from the touristy areas if you want better prices. I have seen Turkish towels range in price from $3 to $100.
For souvenirs, I recommend the womens’ cooperative, located near the clock tower.
Many years ago, I went to a fabulous hammam (the idea of it being a “Turkish bath” was introduced in 1644 even though the tradition is more than 2,000 years old and started as “thermae” in Rome) in Istanbul. Now that I live in Adana, I wanted to find the experience again.
I asked some colleagues if they went to the hammam. As one man said to me, “No, I do not like strange men touching me… and especially when I have no clothes on.” Fair comment, fair comment. I asked others who told me that they did not go the hammam. No tradition of it now that everyone has a bathroom in their own home. In the old days, people had no running hot water in the home so they went to the bathhouse.
The hamman tradition is a remnant of the Romans (again, it’s all about those roads leading to Rome). The Romans also had no baths at home. The bath houses were a place to do more than bath. One went there to exercise, eat, and socialize. Everywhere the Romans went, they built baths (and roads). Even after the “fall of Rome” the Roman empire continued as the Byzantine Empire, then as the Ottoman Empire. Fast forward a century, and the hammam still exists.
Recently I learned that in olden times (I assume Ottoman times), mothers would go to the hammam to find a wife for their sons… well, I guess that is a sure way to do a visual inspection. I cannot speak to the visual inspection thing, but what I do know is that most young people and many others do not use the public hammams anymore. On top of which at many of the hammams, they have private rooms.
A hammam in Adana which is easy to identify by the skylights.
Despite what the modern Turks prefer, I was looking forward to getting regular Turkish baths. So I went searching. Most of the hotels have Turkish bathhouses. So far, I can see that they are staffed with Balinese women. One hotel had Balinese women for the English speakers and Turkmen women for the Turkish speakers. Generally the price is around 2,000 to 2,500 for a Turkish bath at a hotel. You do not need to be staying at the hotel to use the hammam.
It may seem a mystery for many so I will explain the basics of the Turkish bath. The men and women are separated either by location or time (some days or parts of the days for women and others for men). You can make an appointment or walk in and see if they have someone available.
This is one of the hammams in Adana. They have a plunge pool. Note the Turkish towels on the shelves.
Some places will have blue “shower caps” for your shoes for you to put on before you enter the spa area.
Some of the shoe cover machines do not use blue shower caps.
Once you enter, you will be taken to a locker room where you put your belongings in a locker (including your underwear although I’m told that some people keep it on). Then put on the robe or cotton wrap and paper slippers. Some places will make you shower before, but some do not have showers at the beginning. Then someone will guide you to the sauna, then the steam room (the sauna and steam room are optional), and then to the room with the golden taps and golden dish to rinse yourself. The person bathing you will be wearing a Turkish towel as well or maybe that and a top (if a woman). After you, and they, have rinsed you enough, they will indicate that you lie down on the warm marble slab (which is usually octagonal and in the center of the room) where they have placed a Turkish cotton towel.
Then, the person will take a special scrubbing brush and scrub a few layers of skin off you. This will be all over you, except for the genitalia. But very close. They will indicate when you need to roll over, when you need to sit up, and so on. They will scrub your face and wash your hair as well. They will massage you a bit. Then you will be rinsed off again.
Then you lie down on the warm wet towel again. And the best part happens… they take a cotton “pillow case” and suds it up in a cauldron. From there, they squeeze the suds and bubbles over you. It is marvelous. The warm bubbles effervesce on you like giddy bubble bath champagne. It is bliss.
A view showing the marble bench where you would sit and rinse yourself (also from the fancy place in Istanbul).
After the hammam is over, you may be covered in more towels and taken out to a rest area. There you may be offered tea or other restoratives.
Typical rest area in a hotel spa.
And then you pay. You can tip if you want to. Some places want cash payment which I find a bit…
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 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.”
The first thing one has to get used to is the ‘c’ is a ‘j’ as in “Can” is “Jan” or “Jon” — or as in Jif. Then, there are those tails on some of the letters. That makes is an es sound.
The C sound make this product, “Jif”
Speaking of es sounds, the word for water is “su” but it’s a fast su and not “sooo” — that is broth or “suyu”… I think that’s what I was told. The soup in the photo below is a chicken soup, or “çorba” (say “shor-ba”) with spicy oil and lemon.
Rice and chicken soup with spicy oil.
Much of the food here involves lemon/lime so you can add a fresh zest to every bite. Another thing about the limes and lemons here is that they are a mix of the two but not as sour.
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?
The Roman Stone Bridge with the Sabanci Central Mosque in the background.
A few years ago, I lived in Rome, Italy. For the past two years, I lived in the “new Rome” of Washington, DC, in the USA. Now, I have moved to a place that is still connected to Rome (after all, all roads…) but it’s also near history from beforeRome. (Rome was founded in 753 BCE). I’ve moved to Adana, Türkiye.
A “simit” vendor on the Roman Stone bridge.
Despite being a city of two million people, Adana is a less famous than Istanbul (Istanbul is 575 miles/925 kilometers from Adana) but Istanbul is its own universe.
Adana kebab is minced meat. It is the most famous dish from Adana.
I’ve moved somewhere famous for its kebab (More on that later). Adana is also known for its Roman stone bridge (Taşköprü in Turkish), and more recently for being near the location of another famous bridge (Varda Viaduct) featured in a recent James Bond movie. But there are over 12,000 years of history in this area of the world including the famous Göbekli Tepe, from 9500-8000 BCE.
There is so much to explore. I look forward to the adventure!
