1How many? The question word kaç
kaç turned up in Lesson 2 inside the question about age, and we promised it a section of its own. Here it is. kaç means “how many”, and it asks about quantity: how many glasses, how many people, how many days.
The question is built from parts you already have: a place with its -da ending, then kaç, then the thing itself, and var at the end. One frame, every time.
And now the nicest thing that will happen to you today. English says “three glasses” and changes the word. Turkish changes nothing: the number has already said there’s more than one, so there’s no point saying it twice with -lar. After any number — and after kaç — the noun stays singular.
Your hand will still reach for -lar — everyone’s does. The check is simple: if there’s a number in front of the word, the ending isn’t needed. Don’t worry if for the first couple of weeks you only catch it after the fact.
People often slip the word tane in between the number and the thing — roughly “items” or “of them”. It doesn’t change the meaning, it sounds a touch more colloquial, and the noun still stays singular.
And one more use that throws people at first: kaç sometimes comes out as “what” — but only where the answer is going to be a number.
Spotted the -ın inside numaran? That’s a possessive ending, “your” — it gets Lesson 7 to itself, so for now just learn the phrase whole. Same with “Saat kaç?”: you can ask the time today, but we’ll take Turkish clocks apart in Lesson 11.
2Bigger numbers
In Lesson 2 you got as far as a thousand. There isn’t much further to go — there are only two rules, and both of them are good news.
First: biggest part first, smallest last, and nothing goes in between. No “and”, no hyphens, no special forms.
Second: yüz and bin already mean “a hundred” and “a thousand” on their own — you don’t put bir in front of them. milyon, on the other hand, insists on its bir. That is the only bump in the whole system.
Now let’s build something more substantial. You read it straight through, left to right, exactly as it’s written — and you take it apart the same way.
Phone numbers get read out in groups rather than as one enormous number — same as we do. Two zeros in a row often become a single word: çift sıfır, “double zero”.
Say any of these out loud twice in a row. The second time through, the digits stop being a list and turn into a word — which is roughly how they land on a Turkish ear.
3The days of the week
Seven words — but there’s less to learn here than it looks. You practically know one of them already: pazar from last lesson is both “market” and “Sunday”. One word doing two jobs, and market day has nothing to do with it — that’s just how it settled.
Then comes the trick that removes two more. Ertesi means “the next one”, “the day after”. Stick it onto pazar and you get Pazartesi, “the day after Sunday” — Monday. Exactly the same thing happens with Friday.
That leaves three: Salı, Çarşamba, Perşembe. They came in from Arabic and Persian, and each one has a number hidden inside it: Salı is “third”, Çarşamba “fourth”, Perşembe “fifth”. The counting started on Saturday. Completely useless knowledge — and somehow it sticks better than the words themselves.
Günler — the days of the week
- PazartesiMonday
- SalıTuesday
- ÇarşambaWednesday
- PerşembeThursday
- CumaFriday
- CumartesiSaturday
- PazarSunday
To say “on Monday” you add nothing at all: the day works as its own adverb. Pazartesi is both “Monday” and “on Monday”. One of the rare places where Turkish sticks nothing onto anything.
A word about capitals. Strictly speaking, days and months take a capital letter when there’s a date beside them — “25 Haziran”. Elsewhere lower case is allowed too. In practice you’ll see capitals far more often, so that’s what we use; nothing breaks either way.
4Months and seasons
There are twelve months, and there are fewer tricks here — most of them you simply learn. The consolation is that three turn out to be ordinary Turkish words you’ll meet again later with no calendar in sight.
And you probably recognised Mart, Mayıs and Ağustos without any help: they have the same Latin ancestry ours do.
Aylar — the months
- OcakJanuary
- ŞubatFebruary
- MartMarch
- NisanApril
- MayısMay
- HaziranJune
- TemmuzJuly
- AğustosAugust
- EylülSeptember
- EkimOctober
- KasımNovember
- AralıkDecember
There are four seasons, and two of them are assembled from parts you can see: ilk is “first”, son is “last”, bahar is “spring”. So ilkbahar is the “first spring” and sonbahar is the “last” one. Autumn as spring, running the other way.
Months are proper names, so the locative ending hangs off them after an apostrophe, just like İstanbul’da last lesson. And do check that last consonant: Şahap and his pistachios are still on duty.
5Which one exactly? The question word hangi
Today’s second question word is hangi — “which”. It splits the work with kaç very cleanly: kaç asks how many there are, hangi asks which one of the ones there already are. There are seven days in a week, and “which of the seven” is exactly hangi’s job.
hangi behaves like an ordinary adjective: it stands in front of the noun and never changes shape. No endings, no vowel harmony — take the afternoon off.
Here are the four question words side by side. The difference shows up best on one and the same object:
And now nine phrases where the whole lesson comes together at once: a question, a number, a place and var. The translations are hidden — have a go first, then open them. Peeking still doesn’t count against you.
6Türkiye up close: tea instead of a clock
In Lesson 1 the tea was poured for you as a guest: the tulip-shaped glass, “Bir çay daha?”, and no real way to say no. Today it’s the same glass from the other side — not a gesture of hospitality but a way of marking out a day. A lesson about days of the week would be incomplete without it.
Turkey drinks more tea per person than anywhere else on earth, and almost all of it is home-grown: the plantations lie along the eastern Black Sea coast, around the town of Rize. Nobody puts milk in it — the question simply never comes up.
It’s brewed in a two-storey pot, the çaydanlık: strong brew on top, boiling water below, and your glass gets assembled from both streams in front of you. Which means tea has a volume knob: koyu — “dark”, stronger; açık — “light”, weaker. The same açık that meant “open” last lesson.
You don’t go to the tea; the tea comes to you. All day a çaycı works the street with a round tray hanging from three chains, the glasses swinging on it and somehow never spilling. He runs tea into shops, offices and barbers, and collects the empty glasses off the doorsteps afterwards.
And the glass turns out to be handier than a clock. The first one comes with breakfast — kahvaltı literally means “before coffee”, even though what people drink with it is tea. Then there’s the mid-morning one, the after-lunch one, the late-afternoon one, and one more after dinner. Ask someone how many teas they’ve had and you’ll know what time it is — more reliably than from any timetable.
And when there’s time to spare there’s the çay bahçesi — a tea garden under the trees, where one glass buys you the whole afternoon. Nobody will come over to ask whether you might be leaving soon.
7Dialogue: a week with nothing free in it
Can is trying to find a day when Ayşe is free. Ayşe works conscientiously through the week. Mustafa is the local çaycı, and he turns up at precisely the right moment. Listen to the whole thing first, for the intonation, then take it line by line.
8Reading
Your third Turkish text — and again with no verb tense anywhere. It all rests on personal endings, the locative, var and yok. The only new machinery in it is today’s: days of the week, numbers without -lar, and the question hangi.
Deniz moved in back in Lesson 1, lost his key in Lesson 2, and by Lesson 3 has acquired neighbours and a schedule. Listen to it whole first, without peeking. Then go through it line by line.
Cuma kimde?
There’s a sheet of paper on the door. On the paper, a week. In the week, a hole.
1Kağıtta kaç gün var?
2Cuma kimde çay var?
9The lesson’s new words
The days, months and seasons have stayed up in their own tables, where they’re easier to reread as whole sets. Everything else the lesson brought in is here, 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 3 glossary
- kişiperson (as a unit you count)
- sandalyechair
- sınıfclass, classroom
- taneitem (slipped between a number and a thing)
- numaranumber
- saathour; clock, watch
- milyonmillion
- çiftpair; double
- haftaweek
- ertesithe next one, the day after
- aymonth; moon
- yılyear
- mevsimseason
- ilkfirst
- sonlast
- baharspring
- havaweather; air
- hangiwhich
- çaydanlıkthe two-storey teapot
- çaycıthe tea man
- tepsitray
- koyustrong (of tea); dark
- açıkweak (of tea) — last lesson it was “open”
- kahvaltıbreakfast (literally “before coffee”)
- lütfenplease
- pekiall right then
- boşfree; empty
- dolutaken; full
- planplan
- kağıtpaper, a sheet of paper
- isimname
- merdivenstairs
- o zamanthen, in that case
- artıknow, any more
10Check yourself
Six items. Half of them are about today’s rule with -lar, half about the calendar. Getting one wrong is still free: a miss shows you the right answer anyway.
1Match each picture to its season.
2There are five glasses on the table. How do you say it?
3Today is Thursday. In Turkish?
4Which word goes in the gap?
Masada beş ? var.
5And here?
Bugün ? gün?
6How do you read 1975 out loud?
11Homework
The calendar is that rare material you learn on the move rather than at a desk. Almost everything below can be done out loud on the way somewhere.
- Say the seven days in order, then backwards, then starting from today. Build Pazartesi and Cumartesi out of pazar and cuma as you go — they’ll stick faster that way.
- Look around and count five different things near you: “Burada üç sandalye var.” Watch that no -lar slips in after the number.
- Ask five kaç questions about the room you’re sitting in and answer them yourself: how many windows, how many chairs, how many people, how many books, how many glasses.
- Read out loud in Turkish: your phone number, your house number, this year, and the year you were born. The last two go by the “biggest part first” rule.
- Write four sentences about the weather month by month: “Ocak’ta hava soğuk.” Take January, April, August and October — and do check that last consonant before the ending.
- Make yourself the same sheet Deniz’s neighbours have: seven days, and beside each one something real from your week. In Turkish, one word or a short “…da … var”. Leave one day empty and see at the end of the week who ends up with it.