1A question in one small word: the particle mı
Turkish doesn’t rearrange anything to make a question. Take a statement, drop one small separate word in after whatever you’re asking about, and you’re done — the word order stays put and you don’t have to do anything clever with your voice.
It’s written as a separate word but behaves like a suffix: it takes its vowel from the last vowel of the word in front of it — the same harmony as -lar/-ler in Lesson 1. Only this time there are four teams instead of two.
Back, unrounded
The ending simply echoes the word’s last vowel.
Front, unrounded
The commonest of the four — most words land here.
Back, rounded
Your lips are already rounded on the word’s vowel, and the ending keeps them there.
Front, rounded
The rarest of the four, and instantly recognisable.
You’ll meet this foursome again and again — half the endings in Turkish are built on it. Learn it here and you’ll start recognising it everywhere.
The particle goes straight after the word you’re asking about, and that’s the word the stress lands on. Move it and you’re asking about something else. Play the three in a row — the difference is audible immediately.
So far we’ve been asking about “he/she/it”. To ask “are you…?”, the personal ending from Lesson 1 simply moves onto the particle itself. And where two vowels would meet, a y slides in between — Turkish won’t let them sit side by side.
2Evet, hayır, and the word değil
Saying yes is easy: evet. Saying no is slightly more interesting. Hayır is the “no” you answer with, while the actual negating is done by a separate word, değil (roughly “deh-EEL”). It goes after whatever it’s denying, and it takes the personal ending.
A small mercy: you don’t have to repeat the whole sentence. “Hayır, değilim.” is a complete answer on its own, and a perfectly natural-sounding one.
One note for later: değil negates nouns, adjectives and numbers — which is everything we’ve had so far. Verbs handle negation differently, but verbs come later, so there’s nothing to keep track of yet.
3Where? The locative: -da / -de / -ta / -te
Turkish has no prepositions. None at all. Instead of “in”, “on” or “at”, it hangs an ending straight onto the noun — which is friendlier than it sounds. Today, the first of those endings: the one that answers nerede? — “where?”
There are four forms, chosen in two steps. The vowel follows harmony you already know: back vowels take a, front vowels take e. The consonant is the new part — if the word ends in a voiceless consonant, the d hardens into a t.
There are eight voiceless consonants, and Turkish has a lovely mnemonic for them: Fıstıkçı Şahap — “Şahap the pistachio seller”. Every consonant in that name is voiceless: f, s, t, k, ç, ş, h, p. If a word ends in one of them, use -ta or -te.
Back vowel, voiced ending
The word ends in a vowel or a voiced consonant.
Front vowel, voiced ending
The same voiced ending, only with a front vowel.
Back vowel, voiceless ending
An ending out of “Fıstıkçı Şahap” — the d hardens into a t.
Front vowel, voiceless ending
The same hardening, with a front vowel.
With proper names the ending goes after an apostrophe, so the name stays recognisable. You still say it as one word — the apostrophe is there for the eye only.
And to say “I’m at home” rather than just “at home”, add the personal ending you already know. The locative ends in a vowel, so the buffer y turns up again in the first person.
Two words ask about place: nerede? — “where?”, and kimde? — “who has it?”. The second one works exactly the same way; it’s just that the “place” happens to be a person.
4var and yok — there is, there isn’t
Two short words that do a whole verb’s work in Turkish. var means “there is”, yok means “there isn’t”. Both go right at the end of the sentence, and neither needs anything else to lean on.
And one trap almost everyone falls into. If the question has var in it, the answer needs one too. If the question doesn’t, the answer shouldn’t. “Kitap nerede?” is asking where the book is — not whether it exists.
5Counting in Turkish
Numbers are the one thing here you simply have to learn — but only once, because after that they slot together like bricks. No special forms, no “forty-and-seven”: you name the parts biggest first and stop.
Zero to ten
- sıfır0 — zero
- bir1 — one
- iki2 — two
- üç3 — three
- dört4 — four
- beş5 — five
- altı6 — six
- yedi7 — seven
- sekiz8 — eight
- dokuz9 — nine
- on10 — ten
Tens, a hundred, a thousand
- yirmi20 — twenty
- otuz30 — thirty
- kırk40 — forty
- elli50 — fifty
- altmış60 — sixty
- yetmiş70 — seventy
- seksen80 — eighty
- doksan90 — ninety
- yüz100 — a hundred
- bin1000 — a thousand
Compound numbers are built by putting the parts side by side: on bir is literally “ten one”. Nothing goes in between.
And one detail you’ll need before the lesson is out: bir isn’t only “one” — it’s also Turkish’s “a/an”. So bir kitap is either “one book” or just “a book”, depending on what the sentence is doing.
6Getting to know each other a bit better
In Lesson 1 you said hello and gave your name. Now you can ask a little more — how old someone is, where they are, what they do. And all of it is built from exactly what you’ve read today: the question particle, the locative and the numbers.
Look closely at yaşındayım — today’s -da is hiding inside it. Word for word it’s something like “I am at twenty-five of age”. You don’t need to take the frame apart yet: learn it whole and drop your number in at the front.
The word kaç means “how many” or “how much”. It gets a section of its own next lesson; for now it’s enough to recognise it in a question about age — and about price, which you will need in about two minutes.
And a few jobs, so you’ve got something to answer with:
7Türkiye up close: market day
Every neighbourhood in a Turkish city has its own market day. A street gets closed off, the awnings go up, and until evening it is the loudest place for blocks. In Kadıköy in Istanbul, for instance, Tuesday is the produce market; on Friday the same street sells fabric and secondhand goods.
Vendors call out to shoppers at full volume, and it comes out closer to singing than to shouting. The “Buyurun!” you met in Lesson 1 is a working tool here — it opens every other conversation.
Strangers at the market get addressed as family, and it reads as ordinary politeness rather than over-familiarity. A woman roughly your own age is abla, “older sister”; a man is abi, “older brother”. Anyone noticeably older is teyze (“aunt”) or amca (“uncle”). Calling a vendor abi is warm and completely normal; calling them nothing at all comes across a bit dry.
Haggling is expected wherever the price isn’t printed. But it’s a conversation rather than a sport: chat a little first, then ask. “Biraz indirim var mı?” — “any chance of a small discount?” — lands far better than opening with a number of your own.
8Dialogue: two kilos and one negotiation
Ayşe is at the market. So, as it turns out, is Can — neither of them knows it yet. The vendor’s name is Hakan, and he is good at his job. Play the whole thing first, for the intonation, then take it line by line.
9Reading
Your second Turkish text — and again with no verb tense anywhere in it. Everything rests on personal endings, the locative, and var and yok. Exactly what you’ve just been reading about.
Listen to it whole first, without looking at the translations. Then go through it line by line. Understanding everything first time isn’t the goal — recognising the words you know already counts as a win.
Anahtar nerede?
Deniz is standing at the door. The door is shut. What follows is a small investigation.
1What’s in the bag?
2Where was the key the whole time?
10The lesson’s new words
Everything the lesson brought in, in the order it appeared. The meanings are out in the open: this isn’t a test, it’s the page you glance at when you get stuck.
Lesson 2 glossary
- soğukcold
- kalempen
- okulschool
- köyvillage
- hastaill, sick
- sokakstreet
- dolapcupboard
- ofisoffice
- bahçegarden
- pazarmarket; Sunday
- paramoney
- çantabag
- odaroom
- avukatlawyer
- kaçhow many, how much
- yaşage
- mühendisengineer
- garsonwaiter
- hemşirenurse
- satıcıseller
- tamamOK, agreed
- ablaolder sister; how you address a woman
- abiolder brother; how you address a man
- teyzeaunt; for an older woman
- amcauncle; for an older man
- indirimdiscount
- pahalıexpensive
- pazarlıkhaggling
- buradahere
- sepetbasket
- domatestomato
- elmaapple
- kilokilo
- tatlısweet
- amabut
- liralira (Turkish currency)
- sadecejust, only
- açhungry
- anahtarkey
- kapıdoor
- kapalıshut, closed
- ceppocket
- yineagain
- açıkopen
11Check yourself
Six items, and you’ll see straight away what’s holding together and what deserves another listen. Missing one costs nothing — a wrong answer still shows you the right one.
1Match each picture to its Turkish word.
2How do you ask “Is this a school?”
3You’re not a doctor. How do you say so?
4Which locative ending fits here?
okul + ?
5And here?
sokak + ?
6The question is “Kitap nerede?” Which answer is right?
12Homework
If some of this hasn’t settled yet, that’s normal — lesson two hands you three new topics at once. Go back up the page as often as you like; peeking still doesn’t count against you.
- Look around you and ask five questions about the things nearby: “Bu … mı?” Answer each one yourself — “Evet, …” or “Hayır, … değil.”
- Write five sentences about where things are: where you are, where the book is, where your phone is, where your friend is. Check the last consonant before you choose the ending — Şahap and his pistachios are waiting.
- Turn those same five sentences into var questions and answer them: “…da … var mı?” — “Evet, var” or “Hayır, yok.”
- Count out loud from one to twenty, then in tens up to a hundred. Then say your age, your house number, and any number over a hundred — in Turkish.
- Act out a market haggle: ask the price, say “Çok pahalı!”, ask for a discount and settle on a number. Address the vendor as abi or abla.
- Rewrite “Anahtar nerede?” so that the key does turn up in the pocket after all. What has to change in the third and fourth paragraphs?