When I started planning my one-month-long stay in Greece, I already knew I was going to Thessaloniki. One of the main reasons is that the second largest metropolis of the country offers a more authentic experience than in ultra-touristic Athens and Greek islands.
I left Bordeaux train station on a Friday morning and reached the city after an unforgettable journey by bus, train, ferry and bicycle. Here are some of my discoveries, encounters and misadventures.
First impressions in a concrete setting
When I get off the bus, I see the other vehicles parked one after the other. On the other side, people are waiting behind glass. The huge bus station, topped by a concrete dome, is a hive of activity.
I take my bike out of the hold and place it away from the other passengers on the platform. I look around for a young man who has made the same journey and who lent me €15, the price of the extra bike, in Igoumenitsa. I tell him I’ll pay him back later today. His response is to take out his mobile phone and recite an extract from the Gospel that goes something like this: “Give without expecting anything in return.” Igor’s reaction isn’t that surprising, given that he’s going to spend a month in a monastery on Mount Athos, the holiest site for the Greek Orthodox Church. This gesture warms my heart. I insist on paying him back and manage to get his number so I can find him later.
I have to find somewhere to charge my phone, which has run out of battery. There are several cafés in the station, but I can’t find a plug. Besides, the hubbub doesn’t make you want to stay here. I saddle up and set off, following the cars and buses. They must be going into the city centre.
In a huge avenue, I pass tall modern buildings that form a long, grey, ugly mass. The vehicles don’t seem to be paying any attention to me and they scare me. Some honk at me. But where else should I go? There’s no bicycle lane. Different vibe than in a bicycle friendly city of Western Europe.
I reach narrow streets, many of them being one-way. Morally and physically tired, I notice labels and posters against racism and homophobia on the window of a pizza restaurant in a quiet street.
Inside, the old-school rap music creates a relaxed atmosphere, reinforced by the attitude of the two friendly waiters and cooks behind the counter. For the first time in 3 days, I no longer feel like I’m on the road.
– “Did you come from Igoumenitsa by bike?
– No, I took my bike with me on the bus. But this weekend, I’m going to go cycling in Chalkidiki.
– Now that sound good!”
These few words comfort and soothe me. After eating a slice of pizza and recharging my mobile phone, I go to the Airbnb flat. Being able to unpack my things without thinking that I’ll have to put them back in the saddlebags the next day is great. The presence of a real bed is also appreciable, as I slept in a tent on a floor mat during the last 3 nights.
After a nap, I meet up with Igor in the Hagios Demetrios Church, not far from my flat, to give him back his money. He attends a mass. The largest church in Thessaloniki, a city of around 1 million people, looks small to me. I don’t want to linger here, even though I’m curious about the specific features of Orthodox worship. For example, I’m surprised to see the people approach the Orthodox priest and receive a sachet containing perfume.
Then I wander the streets. I’m delighted to find myself in a big city. I love the streets lined with little fast-food outlets. The people give me the impression that they are taking the time to live, despite the heavy traffic. I see tempting pastries and puff pastries. They remind me of Turkish cuisine, but to say that to the locals would be a faux pas.
It’s time to get some sleep, as I have to get up early tomorrow morning to work remotely. This isn’t a holiday, and I know from my previous trip as a digital nomad to Israel that it’s important to smooth out the load over the whole period. In other words, it’s better to work from the beginning of the trip.
When history meets modernity
At breakfast, I discover an unusually shaped utensil in a kitchen cupboard. It’s a Greek coffee pot, and I’m excited to make myself a cup. To find out how, I use a tutorial found on the Internet. I heat the water, mixed with ground coffee and sugar, on a hob on the table. When it boils, I take care to empty the pan without spilling any grounds. I enjoy the delicious drink, which tastes a little lighter than the coffee I’m used to in France.
After a morning’s work at the flat, I head out, armed with my Guide du routard book, to discover the Byzantine churches listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s important to soak sun in before it gets dark. I’ll be working again this evening.
First stop: Hagios Demetrios. It seems bigger than last night. The building is majestic, but I don’t feel like going inside again.
With my eyes on the map, I head towards old Ottoman baths. The café that used to be in the beautiful stone building has closed its doors. I can see dirty tables and overturned chairs through the fence. It must have been a victim of Greece’s economic difficulties. It’s not the 1st vacant building I’ve seen in the city.
The several influences of Thessaloniki
“…those admirable and terrible Jews of Salonika”: it was while reading Primo Levi’s “If This Is a Man” that I first heard of this city, under its Ottoman name. Attached to the Empire in 1430, the city saw the arrival of Jews expelled from Spain in 1492. They enjoyed great freedom and coexisted with other communities, including Greeks and Turks. After the Second World War, there were almost no Jewish inhabitants left in Thessaloniki, whereas at the beginning of the 20th century they represented two-thirds of the population.
Today, you can still see many traces of the city’s past:
- Roman monuments, Thessaloniki having served as the temporary residence of two emperors, Galerius and Theodosius
- Byzantine churches built between the 4th and 15th centuries
- Venetian buildings, such as the White Tower, one of the symbols of the city
- Ottoman mosques, no longer used for worship since the city joined the Kingdom of Greece in 1912, during the 1st Balkan War
Suddenly, the architecture changes. The buildings are yellow or blue, not grey. What’s more, they’re in better condition than what I’ve seen so far. This tells me that I’ve just entered the upper town, Ano Poli.
I reach the monastery of Vlatadon at the end of a charming winding street. Gates mark the entrance to a garden. At the end of it, I admire the sublime view of the town stretching down to the sea. The inhabitants must have built their houses on the way up. To my right, container ships and cranes are visible in the harbour. Several ships are already on the blue immensity. They are on their way to deliver their goods to Western Europe, Asia or, closer, to Athens.
After walking for 15 minutes, I arrive at another Byzantine church, the Osios David. Also nestled in a welcoming garden, it offers a sublime view. I notice three people sitting on a bench at the back. I’m wearing trousers, which means I can get in without any problems. Inside, I hear words coming from a dark corner. The two people are almost whispering. It’s a priest and a woman who must be confessing. Suddenly I understand that the people in the garden are waiting to come in so that they too can confess too.
I take the time to look at the beautiful mosaic depicting Christ and a rainbow. The fact that the church dates back to the 5th century makes it fascinating. I hear the priest say a few words that must be a prayer, to which the woman replies “amen.”
The walk continues through the quiet village-like neighbourhood. The quality of life seems much better than in the lower town, one of the reasons being that there is less traffic. However, because of the stairs, the area is not suitable for bicycles.
A high wall appears along one street. My guide tells me that these were fortifications that surrounded the city. The one in front of me is Byzantine and must measure 4 metres. I can see tufts of grass emerging in places between the stones. The quality of the workmanship of the men who built it impresses me.
Following the wall, I reach the heptapyrgion district (the 7 towers). I see several towers along the wall, but not 7.
Staircases weave between the houses, and several cats stand in my way. Usually, when I’m wandering around a city and I see a cat, I stop and approach it. There are so many here that I can’t greet them all.
On the way out of the upper town, I notice a café with the words ‘çay’ and ‘kahve’ (Turkish for tea and coffee) on the front. I’m surprised to see this language in Greece. Do the owners face discrimination? Then I see a word beginning with ‘kurd’. Perhaps this is a café run by Kurds from Turkey.
On the other side of the street, a beautiful corner house with a pale pink facade stands out. One of its walls is adorned with a plaque. I’m surprised to discover that it’s translated into French and that it was put up in the 1930s. The building is Atatürk’s birthplace. Let’s visit it straight away, as it’s on my programme.
I pass through a security gate, guarded by several people who don’t ask me to pay. That’s a good surprise!
A Turkish flag flies in the leafy courtyard. It’s the consulate. I’m excited to be here, having never been to Turkey. I’m also interested in knowing more about the life of Atatürk.
Inside the house, there are many photos and precise texts. This is “the first place where Turks visiting Thessaloniki must go.” As I listen to young people speaking Turkish near me, I realise that the instructions are being followed.
I learn many things about the statesman. For example, the museum tells me that his family had settled in the Macedonian region several centuries before he was born. I can see how deeply rooted the Turks were in Thessaloniki, and imagine how difficult it must have been for them to leave.
One of his school reports is visible. I notice that he was learning French, the only foreign language visible on the beautiful handwritten document. At the time, it was the international language, like English today. This confirms the impression I got when I saw the plaque at the entrance.
What’s more, the superlative objectives used to describe it tell me how important he was in building the Turkish nation.
Next, I visit another Byzantine church, the magnificent and imposing Agia Sofia. From outside, I admire the tower, an ancient minaret, which rises to the left of the building. A woman in her forties, dressed in modern jeans and trainers, approaches the entrance to the site. She lights a candle in a small niche and makes a phone call at the same time. As a Frenchman living in a secular country, I’m surprised by this scene.
Given its state of preservation, it’s hard to believe that it dates from the 7th century, as my guide says. I ask a man at the reception desk for more details. In very good English, he tells me that most of the decorations that can be seen today on the interior walls are the work of the Ottomans, who kept the original structure of the building. He then shows me a wall painting dating from the 7th century. The depicted figures bear the marks of the centuries.
“Look up: the mosaics on and around the dome were created in the 7th and 11th centuries. The materials used make them stronger than the paintings.”
I admire the work depicting Christ surrounded by around ten people, probably apostles.
Farther on, in front of a beautiful and imposing Ottoman building, the Hamza-Bey mosque, I see a glass construction behind barriers. Men are working on the site of the Thessaloniki metro. According to my guide, it was due to open in 2023. In the end, it was inaugurated a week after my visit, in November 2024.
Here, there are plenty of occasions to see history and modernity intertwine. On another evening, I pass a lively terrace, frequented by young Greeks and located next to the Roman agora. It stretches for a whole block, right in the centre of town.
The next day, I’m doing one of my favourite activities: visiting a market. The biggest in Thessaloniki is Modiano’s. It reminds me of the Mahane Yehuda market in Jerusalem, because it’s covered in places, has small restaurants and cafés, and wide stalls lining the aisles.
I’m looking for a place to eat that’s not touristy. On the other side of the street that divides the market in two, there are several small restaurants. One of them, with its simple decor, appeals to me. Firstly, because the prices are affordable, which will help me stay within my €10/day food budget. On the other hand, I think sloppy decoration is a sign that the food is good.
As soon as I walk in, a friendly waiter invites me to see the dishes in the kitchen at the back of the room. Everything looks delicious: white fish, pork in sauce, chicken, meatballs… The side dishes, such as combo and green beans, also make my mouth water. To warm up, I choose chicken soup, meatballs and zucchinis. I wondered if the adventurous choice of meatball was the right one. Good surprise: it’s delicious.
New perspectives
At around 11.30pm, I walk to the party area of the city, accompanied by the incessant stream of cars that moves along at the rhythm of the traffic lights. As Mediterranean people, Greeks go out late at night. I’m the first customer in the club, and one of the barmen says something to me when he sees that I’m not from here. I’m delighted by this chat because he’s friendly and allows me to learn a few things about the life of the locals. He’s a medical student and does several small jobs. I think he’s brave, and even braver when he tells me that Greek doctors are paid around €1,200 a month when they graduate. This testimony makes me feel privileged. Several people I meet during the evening tell me that they live here in winter and work on an island, such as Mykonos or Corfu, during the high season.
The next day, I decide to go to the seaside, which I only saw from the Ano Poli. As I walk along the long promenade lined with beautiful buildings, I feel the sun’s rays on my face, which relaxes me and puts a smile on my face. Suddenly, I’m surprised to see a cycle path running alongside the promenade. So there are bicycle lanes in the city! As I walk along, my thoughts clear up and I realise that I want to talk to people. Since leaving France, I haven’t been in the frame of mind to reach out to others, even though this is one of my favourite aspects of travelling alone. It takes effort, and my job already takes up a lot of my energy.
The opportunity arises when I see a cyclist sitting next to a bike with large panniers. No doubt about it, he’s travelling.
– “Where are you going?
– I left my home in Switzerland for 1 year. I crossed Austria and the Balkans and arrived in Thessaloniki 2 weeks ago. I haven’t planned the rest of my trip yet.
– Where are you sleeping?
– In my tent, a little way from the city centre.”
I imagine it’s hard to find a quiet corner in this big, noisy city. Plus, it’s an extreme choice to leave your job and your home to travel for such a long time. Thomas doesn’t earn any money during this time, which limits the possibilities of doing activities here. Besides, sleeping in a tent every day for a year would be too uncomfortable for me. He tells me he wants to have more social contact. I do too.
Missing an encounter with Macedonian Kings
The ancient site of Aigai, located in what is now the village of Vergina, around 60 km from Thessaloniki, is on my list of places to visit. This UNESCO World Heritage Site was the capital of the Kingdom of Macedonia.
Around midday, at the bus station, as I wait in line to buy my ticket for the small town of Veria, I realise that I forgot my lock at the flat. No time to go get it. Let’s hope there are secure areas in the museum.
The woman behind the glass is cold and does her job mechanically. She tells me that I can put my bike on the bus without paying extra, which surprises me. I read before I left that you had to pay a bit more, but that must only apply to long-distance journeys.
This isn’t the first time that bus company employees have been unpleasant since I arrived in the country. Do they not like to speak English? Do they behave like this in general? Maybe I’ve just been unlucky.
The bus driver asks me to remove a wheel before putting my bike in the hold. I’ve never done this before, but I have no choice. The wheel comes off without a hitch, and the spring and cap have to be retrieved. I put them in the small inside pocket of my shorts.
As the bus pulls away, the lady sitting next to me makes the sign of the cross. She must be praying that we don’t have an accident. Once again, the ostentation of the Greek faith surprised me. When we arrive in Veria, 1 hour later, it’s the driver’s turn to make the sign of the cross.
I put my wheel back on and take out my mobile phone to look at the route. There’s about 10 km to go.
When cars past me, I’m glad I’m wearing a yellow waistcoat. Some drivers turn their heads towards me, surprised to see a cyclist here.
I admire the imposing Macedonian plain to my left and the green hills to my right. At a bend in the road, a sign says “St Paul’s route.” It depicts the saint’s face. 2,000 years after his actions in the region, people are still talking about him.
After about 45 minutes on the road, I spot a modern white building behind a small field of olive trees. This is the polycentric Aigai Museum, which opened at the end of 2022.
Outside the glass doors of the entrance, a man yells: ‘No bike!
I leave by bicycle outside and go inside to look for a safe place. The employees tell me that it’s forbidden to leave it in a room inside. The surroundings are safe, but they don’t take responsibility for theft.
I scour the area around the building, looking for a place to hide it. In vain: the olive trees don’t provide enough protection from view. Even though there are very few people around, I prefer not to take the risk of being robbed.
I tell myself I should have taken more time to pack. It’s not certain that I’ll be coming back here, given my busy schedule.
A map indicates that the site is made up of several places of interest. I follow the signs to a gravel path. I push on my legs, but have to put my foot down a few dozen metres farther on. The large stones and the incline make the terrain almost impassable for cycling.
The sun is starting to set and I still haven’t seen anything of the old capital. I find the area poorly signposted, which perhaps explains why it’s so little frequented. This is all the more surprising given that Aigai is supposed to be one of the most important archaeological sites in Greece.
Just after turning around to head back to Veria, two hikers appear. I go up to them to make sure I’m not missing anything.
– “Hello, do you speak English?
– Yes.
– Is there something to see if I keep cycling down the road?
– Yes, you’re not far from the ancient ruins.
– Is it free to visit them?
– Yes! We preferred to go there rather than to the museum to be in nature.”
These words cheer me up and ease my disappointment. The woman, whose accent suggests she’s Dutch, shows me photos of the site. Magnificent mosaics and old stones are visible.
After a climb, I reach the palace built by Philip II, King of Macedonia, in the middle of the fourth century BC. His son, Alexander the Great, was crowned here. I can only imagine the hustle and bustle that must have reigned here at such a silent moment.
There’s just one man here, in charge of security. His job must be boring, but he works outdoors, in a setting with a rich historical and natural heritage. He asks me about my bike. It seems that I’m the only tourists to get around here this way.
I find the ruins rather ordinary. Partially destroyed columns, supplemented by recent elements, line up, bordered by beautiful mosaics on the ground. I’m not interested in spending a lot of time here. On the other hand, the importance of the place is fascinating. A book on Alexander the Great that I read before going to Greece aroused my curiosity about the places marked by this historical figure.
Aigai, the starting point of a unique conquest
Alexander the Great was crowned king in 336 BC in the palace of Aigai, but once king, he did not spend much time here.
His father, assassinated the same year, had inherited a small peripheral state, Macedonia, in 359 BC, under threat from Greek cities such as Athens, which regarded them as Barbarians. The reasons: Macedonians did not speak the same Greek language and had not established democracy. Under his reign, the kingdom founded in the 7th century took on a new dimension. With his skills as a diplomat and military leader, Philip II conquered almost all of Greece. Another of his major achievements was the establishment of the capital at Pella, a few dozen kilometres from Aigai.
His actions formed the basis for the conquests of his son, who extended the Greek world to Egypt, Mesopotamia and Central Asia, as far as the Indus.
On the way back to Veria, the disappointment is still there, as the visit to the museums is a must of the region.
Why my return to Thessaloniki was worthwhile
After these 4 days, I went cycling in Chalkidiki, a nearby peninsula, for a weekend. Then I worked for a week at an organic producer and trader in the area, less than 2 hours from Thessaloniki, as WWOOFer. Before going south to Athens, I wanted to go back because I felt that I had not taken enough advantage of the city. Its relaxed atmosphere, historical heritage and the warm welcome of several people, including my Airbnb host, justified my decision. I spent two more days there, and took this opportunity to visit the sites of Aigai that I had missed.
At the exit of the bus, at the station of Ktel Chalkidikis, I pull up my front wheel and reconnect the wire of my dynamo. This operation is a formality now. On the way to downtown, I feel joy. There is a smile on my face and my eyes are looking out for what is around me.
A line of cars is moving along. I slip between them, careful not to hit them with my oversized bags. I like this sport. The sound of vehicles, their horn and people passing by don’t bother me. After 10 days in a village and in nature, I am delighted to be back in the city. Moreover, it’s a familiar place now.
Before joining the same Airbnb apartment as 2 weeks ago, I wash clothes in a laundromat. The program lasts 25 minutes, which gives me time to discover by bike the roman monuments located in the city center.
The first one on my way is the Rotunda, a large circular building. It’s closed. I continue to the Arch of Galerius. My guide tells me the history of the well-preserved building. I learn that it bears the name of a Roman emperor of the 4th century and commemorates his victory over the Persians. I admire the details engraved on the two large pillars. They represent soldiers in a very realistic way. This makes the historical facts more real. The beautiful bricks of the building also fascinate me, because they are in good condition. They saw millions of people passing by, like these guys I see waiting, with their eyes behind their smartphones. The venue must be a popular meeting point for locals.
After this short visit, free and open access, I take a look at the church of Saint Panteleimon, another Byzantine building. It’s nestled between apartment buildings covered with tags, which I find ugly.
I drop my bike off in front of the laundry before going inside. Bad surprise: my floor mat is not on my luggage rack. Either it fell down while driving or someone stole it from me when I was waiting. Anyway, it’s not a big deal, as it costs less than 20 €. Plus, I didn’t plan to sleep in my tent until the end of my trip.
The next day I go to Vergina. On the way, I pass again over a bridge that crosses a small lake. The reflection of the mountains in autumn colors is beautiful. Two weeks ago, the leaves had not yet taken this orange hue.
This time, I’m tying my bicycle in front of the museum with my lock. In hindsight, not visiting it the last time was a good decision. The clean, spacious, and white interior has a new look that surprises me, because I have seen few modern buildings since my arrival in Greece.
There is sweat on my back and legs. It’s part of the charm of cycling. Passing by the reception, I wonder if the employees notice my smell.
The visit begins with a room in which I see small objects dating from the golden age of Macedonia. There are coins with the face of Alexander the Great. At the bottom is a huge map showing where the conqueror went from Macedonia to the edge of the Indus. I see little explanation that could put these elements in context, and this beginning of the visit annoys me.
Then I enter into an inner courtyard. It is a restitution of the royal palace of Aigai. The place is all white. I find it beautiful, but there is no information to appreciate it. The stone parts that appear in places must come from the original palace I saw 2 weeks ago. After having looked at some reconstitutions of sculptures, I return inside. The route leads to rooms containing many objects that evoke different aspects of life in the Kingdom of Macedonia.
There is a section dedicated to soldiers, where there are weapons and shields. Then I see everyday objects like lamps, jewellery and vases. The diversity and quantity of pieces fascinate me. Moreover, I find that the explanations very well done.
I then read a text that recounts the history of the Kingdom and its rulers. It would have been useful to place it at the beginning of the visit for an overview.
At the end of the tour, I ask an employee:
– “Is it normal that I haven’t seen the Macedonian Kings’ tombs?
– Yes, they’re not here but in the other museum about a mile away. Hurry up, it closes in an hour.”
Explanations on the layout of the site are lacking. I get back on my bike and go in the direction of the ruins that I visited during my first visit. A group of tourists exit through a gate and enter buses. Fortunately they were there because otherwise I would have had trouble finding the entrance. I enter a garden and then an underground building.
The interior space is in a semi-darkness. This creates a mysterious and secret character that I like. A model attracts my curiosity. It allows to understand the arrangement of the tombs.
As I advance, I discover a wide wooden staircase. I see below a majestic facade illuminated. Everything becomes clear: the museum was built on the tombs. The well-preserved building in front of my eyes is that of Philip II. It fascinates me, especially because it stands in the dark. It seems that time has not affected it much.
Contrary to what I had thought, the tomb is a large building that contains several rooms. The king’s personal effects, found in the funeral monument, are in the main exhibition hall. I admire his armour, weapons and jewellery. They are all well preserved. Philip II must have been self-centred and courageous.
At that point, I realize the importance of the site. What is the probability of finding the funerary monument of such an important historical figure? Perhaps one day, the tomb of Alexander the Great will also be discovered.
My gaze is on several vases, probably in silver. I am amazed because they could have been made a few months ago, but they are almost 2,500 years old. The objects make the people buried here real to me.
Then, I discover two other tombs, put forward in the same way as the first. They are a little smaller than the king’s, but have a similar appearance. An half-brother and a son of Alexander the Great must have been buried there.
The next day, before taking my train to Athens, I go for lunch to the seafood restaurant Ouzomania, advised by my host. The place’s friendliness owes much to the sympathy of the owner. While listening to traditional Greek music, I admire the original and loaded decoration.
I see two couples of old friends, very beautiful, enter the empty restaurant. They discuss, a glass of ouzo in the hand for the gentlemen, and pick by hand from dishes placed in the middle of the table. I think that the inhabitants enjoy life.
After eating the smoked mackerel and the shrimp saganaki, a delicious soup, I throw myself back into the stream of cars. The big city leaves me with an impression of authenticity and carefree.
