Nestled along the rugged coastline of the Black Sea, Giresun is a Turkish city that often flies under the radar for international travelers. Yet, this hidden gem is a cultural treasure trove, blending ancient traditions with modern-day resilience. From its legendary hazelnut orchards to its vibrant festivals, Giresun offers a unique lens into Turkey’s regional diversity—and a timely reminder of how local cultures can thrive amid global challenges like climate change and urbanization.
Giresun is synonymous with hazelnuts—Turkey produces nearly 70% of the world’s supply, and this region is its beating heart. The fındık (hazelnut) isn’t just an economic lifeline; it’s woven into the fabric of daily life. Walk through the countryside, and you’ll see terraced hillsides blanketed with hazelnut trees, a landscape shaped by generations of farmers.
But climate change looms large. Erratic weather patterns threaten harvests, pushing locals to adapt. Some are turning to sustainable farming, while others revive heirloom varieties resistant to drought. The hazelnut crisis isn’t just about economics—it’s a fight to preserve a way of life.
Giresun’s cultural calendar pulses with energy, especially during the Aksu Festival, a spring celebration rooted in pagan rituals. Locals dress in traditional karadeniz (Black Sea) attire—vibrant embroidered vests and headscarves—and dance the horon, a fast-paced circle dance accompanied by the kemençe (a three-stringed fiddle).
Then there’s the Giresun International Music Festival, where jazz and classical melodies echo against Ottoman-era castles. It’s a testament to the city’s ability to honor its past while embracing the new—a delicate balance many communities struggle with in the face of globalization.
Like much of Turkey, Giresun grapples with urbanization. Younger generations flock to Istanbul or abroad, leaving villages to wither. Yet, a counter-movement is brewing. Artists and entrepreneurs are revitalizing abandoned stone houses, turning them into boutique hotels or craft cooperatives. The Giresun Women’s Solidarity Cooperative, for instance, empowers rural women to sell handmade textiles online, bridging the gap between tradition and the digital economy.
Nearby destinations like Trabzon and Rize are buckling under overtourism, but Giresun remains refreshingly authentic—for now. Locals debate how to grow sustainably. Some advocate for eco-tourism, promoting hiking trails like the Kümbet Plateau, where misty highlands offer solitude. Others warn against replicating the cruise-ship chaos of Antalya. The question hangs: Can Giresun learn from the world’s tourism mistakes?
Giresun’s cuisine is a love letter to the Black Sea. Anchovies (hamsi) star in dozens of dishes, from hamsi pilavı (anchovy rice) to hamsi böreği (fried anchovy pastries). Then there’s kuymak, a gooey cornmeal-and-cheese dish that’s the ultimate comfort food.
But here, too, global pressures intrude. Overfishing threatens the hamsi stocks, while imported fast food lures younger tastes. Grassroots initiatives, like the Hamsi Festival, aim to reignite pride in local flavors—proof that food isn’t just sustenance, but resistance.
The Black Sea is rising, and coastal erosion gnaws at Giresun’s shores. In Bulancak, a nearby district, fishermen recount how their docks have moved inland three times in a decade. Meanwhile, landslides—exacerbated by deforestation—bury roads. The world’s climate crisis isn’t abstract here; it’s measured in lost homes and altered horizons.
Turkey hosts millions of Syrian refugees, and Giresun is no exception. In the city’s bazaars, Syrian spices now mingle with Turkish teas. Some locals welcome the cultural exchange; others resent the strain on resources. Yet, grassroots projects—like language classes for refugee children—hint at a quieter, more hopeful narrative of coexistence.
Giresun’s story mirrors the world’s: a place where tradition collides with progress, where climate change isn’t a headline but a daily reality. Yet, its people—whether through hazelnut cooperatives or horon flash mobs—refuse to let their culture fade. In an era of homogenization, that’s a lesson worth savoring.
So, if you find yourself in Giresun, skip the checklist tourism. Sit in a çay bahçesi (tea garden), listen to the kemençe players, and taste the kuymak made by a grandmother’s hands. Here, the pulse of a resilient culture beats strong—if you know where to listen.