Albania and Northern Greece 2023: Part Five - Thessaloniki, Greece

 

Ioannina – Thessaloniki – 11^th June 2023

We get a taxi to the bus station because it’s hot and our bags are heavy. It’s a three-and-a-half-hour journey through the mountains along the behemoth of a motorway which links Istanbul and Brindisi and which near-bankrupted Greece. The scenery is beautiful as we cross the Pindus mountains, but as we get into Macedonia it becomes flatter and less interesting.

The only reason we’re going to Thessaloniki is because it has an international airport and I hate doubling back. I was last here in 1986, failed to hitch to where my friends were on an archaeological dig, and spent a night in a youth hostel. I might have seen a round castle-thing.

First impressions? It’s not a pretty city. We get a taxi to our Airbnb which is in the centre, a first-floor apartment in a building described on the website as ‘neoclassical.’ The host, Poloma, works in tourism and it shows. There’s a tiny balcony on which to smoke with a view of the yard. It’s okay. The lock is very old. Poloma shows me the trick to open it easily which I manage to do for the first and only time.

There’s a big square, which is actually a rectangle, which is surrounded by tall buildings and leads to the sea front. We have a beer and it starts raining. We walk along the sea front to a district called Ladadika which is full of restaurants and have a late brunch, which is very good – not your usual Greek food (Thessaloniki is regarded as Greece’s culinary capital), I have three types of taramasalata. Huge portions, cheap and there’s free dessert.

Through the windy alleys of the wonderful market we go to the White Tower of which I have spoken of. Some drips of rain, Mrs Mad reaches calmly for her tiny umbrella. Then it really chucks it down and I’m soaked. Mrs Mad offers to share her canopy, but in my haste to reach cover I manage to get her drenched too. We shelter in a souvenir shop where, to my chagrin, I am forced to buy an umbrella.

We visit the Arch of Galerius and some other old Roman things, but it’s too wet so we go back to the Airbnb. We go out to dinner later because I think Mrs Mad must be hungry, and she thinks I must be hungry, until we find out that neither of us are and we go back.

Scratch beneath the surface and Thessaloniki grows on you. It’s laid back, not hassly and has the best cafes and restaurants in Greece. It’s history is fascinating. It was the capital for various Roman emperors, the second city in both the Byzantine and Ottoman empires, it used to be the most populous Jewish city in the world and was the birthplace of the Young Turks and Ataturk. It only gained a Greek majority in 1923 with the population exchange with Turkey. Around every corner there’s a Byzantine church, Roman ruin or Ottoman house.

It burnt down in 1917 and was rebuilt in an Art Deco style. Unfortunately, it was heavily bombed in WW2, meaning that in between these fantastic buildings there are monstrosities from the 50s to 70s. It’s not touristy, although when the rain starts, Mrs Mad doesn’t want to take refuge on the pirate boat.

Thessaloniki (Pella/Aigai) – 12^th June 2023

I’ve always been fascinated by Alexander the Great and his father Philip in particular. So, we’re going on a day trip to his ancestral homes.

We’re picked up in a coach by Aristotle Square. The guide is called John the Baptist or something, an ex-alpine skier that represented Greece in the 1980 and 1984 winter Olympics. His enthusiasm for history more than makes up for the occasional dodgy fact, such as the ancient Macedonians being descended from the Argives in Southern Greece (they were not) and Alexander’s tomb (pronounced ‘tom’) being in Macedonia rather than Alexandria in Egypt, where most other historians seem to think it is. John the Baptist tells us that the great skill of the archaeologists is to find various unrelated objects and then ‘make up something around them,’ which is how I remember the subject.

There’s not much left of Pella, a result of the Romans flattening it in 168 BC and subsequent earthquakes. It’s huge but you have to use your imagination. They erected the odd Roman column they had lying around to give a sense of how it might have been. The wild flowers and butterflies are nice.

The Greeks have erected three massive museums at Pella (opened 2009), Vergina (2015) and Aigai (2022). Why not earlier you might ask? Something to do with their mighty neighbour the Republic of North Macedonia, formerly known as the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia and, before that, as Macedonia. Breach the subject with most Greeks over whether that country should have the right to choose its own name and they become apoplectic. That country is not Macedonia! Macedonia is Greece! The ancient Macedonians were Greeks! The museums are there to strengthen this claim.

Unfortunately, there’s very little they’ve found to put in them. The best is Vergina where they found the toms of Philip II and his grandson Alexander IV (the not so great). The museum is under a massive tumulus which they didn’t excavate until 1977, despite always knowing where it was, the grave robbers apparently considering it too much effort and the Turks, according to John the Baptist, ‘not giving a shit.’ There’s some impressive stuff in those toms.

At the museum’s exit is a quote from the lead archaeologist: ‘the fact that so many objects found had Greek names on them is irrefutable proof that the Macedonians were Greek.’ I remember my Ancient History professor at Birmingham University in the mid-80’s bumbling through a lengthy discussion about this, embarrassed because one of his students was a girl from Thessaloniki.

Eventually, he could take no more and blurted out: ‘I’m sorry, but the Macedonians were not Greek!’

Personally, I like to think I have Celtic, Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Norman, Viking and French blood in me. Perhaps even a bit of Macedonian. Does it really matter?

Back in Thessaloniki we have a further wander and decide we’ve had enough of ruins for the day, so we don’t go to the Roman Forum or Byzantine Heptapyrgion Fort, both of which require walking up a steep hill. In the evening we spot a nice-looking fish restaurant in the market and ask to see the menu. ‘It’s 100 Euro per person,’ says the manager, who looks thoroughly fed up. ‘It’s a restaurant for locals.’ It seems a lot, but Mrs Mad’s up for paying for it. ‘Come on then,’ says the manager. ‘Let’s go buy the fish.’ I remind Mrs Mad that’s she going to have to eat 100 Euro’s worth of fish, which means I’m going to have to eat 180 Euro’s worth of fish, and we politely change our minds. The manager sighs, because this is probably the thousandth time this year the same thing has happened.

At the neighbouring restaurant I order a plate of whitebait for 7 Euros that’s enough to feed six. We get free dessert. What is it with the free dessert?! Stop giving it to me, I can take no more!

Thessaloniki – London 13^th June 2023

What’s to say - we wake up, get a Bolt or something, drive to the airport, get on a plane and go home. Nothing goes wrong.

As much as I like Albania, I’m in love with Greece. This is my 18^th time here, I’ve spent more than a year of my life in Greece and travelled to its far corners. It’s not because of the beaches, I hate beaches and they’re mostly rubbish here anyway. It’s not the ruins either, although I have more than a passing interest in them. It’s a combination of many things – the spectacular scenery, the mainly-decent weather, the people’s stubbornness in not wanting to modernise or change their customs, the houses built in silly places, the history that exudes from every rock, the al-fresco dining. Most of all, it’s because you can relax and be yourself. They have rules here, but it’s fine to ignore them. If you want to plonk yourself outside a taverna, open a book and make a beer last four hours, nobody’s gonna complain. I could live in Greece. In fact, I want to.