Return to the Empire
I try another tack: “Salonica?” Same blank stare, this time with a furrowed brow thrown in for good measure. I hold up an index finger — the universal signal for ‘I’m a bit lost give me a moment’ — and fumble through my guidebook.
“Er, Selanik?” “Ah, Selanik!”, the teller raises her arms demonstrably. Within minutes I’m safely ensconced on a sleek, air-conditioned bus. Seven hours, and a protracted border check later, we finally pull into the ancient city that the Turks call Selanik, Jews Solun and the Greeks, who have ruled the roost for nigh on 100 years, know as Thessaloniki.
Thessaloniki, almost inevitably, calls to mind that hoary cliché, ‘a city steeped in history’. The second city of the Byzantine empire, it passed into Ottoman control. In 1912 it was annexed by Greece during the first Balkan Wars. The city was also home to one of the largest Jewish settlements in the world — indeed at one stage it was mooted as a possible capital of the as yet unrealised Israel — before the Nazi occupation and the ensuing Holocaust.
It’s a long, winding lineage etched into the cityscape. The White Tower, the iconic Byzantine-era fortification, nestles on the edge of the spectacular waterfront. This was the scene of executions during Ottoman rule but has since become a potent rallying point for the city.
History is not all in the past, however, as I discovered over lunch with my guide Nico (‘It means ‘victory’ in Greek!’). Halfway through a fantastic meal of buffalo meatballs and cornflour pitas in Kreopolio, an über-trendy city centre restaurant housed in a former butcher’s shop within spitting distance of the bay, I injudiciously suggest that I might take a daytrip over the border to Macedonia. “Macedonia! This is the only Macedonia. That is an imposter,” Nico exclaims, as he brings his fist down on the heavy wooden table. Thankfully, his former amiable manner returns almost as quickly as it left. “But you, my friend, should go if you want.”
Thessaloniki is both Greece’s second city and the capital of the Greek province of Macedonia. For most Thessalonians the country that scored a last minute equaliser to deny Ireland a place in Euro 2000 does not exist — it is referred to as Skopje, when it is spoken of at all. Relations between Thessaloniki and the former Yugoslavian republic of Macedonia have been testy since the Balkan conflict, not helped by the latter’s decision to issue unofficial souvenir banknotes featuring the White Tower and its stunning vista in 1992.
The region’s venerable Macedonian past is celebrated at the tomb of Philip II, the fabled military leader and father of Alexander the Great. Located in lush, mountainous countryside at Vergina, outside Thessaloniki, the site isn’t exactly easy to find but is well worth the effort. Discovered in 1977, Philip’s burial tomb contains a fascinating horde of precious metals and treasure, including his gold suit of armour and myriad objects that were buried with the king after his assassination in 336BC.
But for now, at least, the EU-backed austerity package has replaced the Macedonian question in the public’s disaffection. Angry red graffiti chastising ‘Merkozy’ reflects the anger and frustration that bubbles away beneath the city’s relaxed ambience.
In another square, close to the restored Basilica of Saint Demetrius, a large crowd gathers shouting anti-government slogans. Tall, beautiful women in designer sunglasses hold Cyprus Communist Party flags in one hand, Zara bags in the other. Students make up about a tenth of Thessaloniki’s 1.25 million people, and the bulk of the protestors are drawn from nearby Aristotle University.
The culture of contemporary Thessaloniki is still infused by a people that left the city almost a hundred years ago: the Turks. The fabled Orient Express once ran between the city and Istanbul, and while the train was discontinued last summer as part of EU-enforced cutbacks, the two cities share a rich history dating back both to the Ottoman empire and the compulsory population exchange that saw around two million Greeks in Asia Minor and Muslims in Greece swap homelands in 1922 and 1923.
Kemal Ataturk was born in 1881 in a three-floor house near the centre of Thessaloniki. The home of the father of modern Turkey has since been transformed into a museum in his honour, while the adjoining house now hosts the Turkish consulate — and a phalanx of armed guards day and night.
Having travelled from Istanbul, I was sure the best borek — the sumptuous, light filo-pastry filled with feta, meat or vegetables so popular in this part of the world — was behind me. But that was before I stumbled across Politissa, a cornucopia of sweets, pies, pancakes and mouth-watering borek run by a family with roots in the Turkish city of Izmir.
The Greeks from Asia Minor, who arrived in Thessaloniki in their hundreds of thousands from 1921 on, have left their mark on the city, too. Many of the pleasant tavernas that lie dotted around the squares and thronged city streets feature rebetika in the evening, a mournful folk music brought to the city from Turkey. The sense of exile and loss that courses through Thessaloniki is typified by its football team: PAOK has been playing away for more than 80 years. Its real home is Istanbul; the ‘K’ in the club’s name refers to Ko-nstantinoúpolis (Greek for Constantinople), the double-headed eagle on the club’s crest symbolises the links to east and west.
Thessaloniki’s nightlife is largely centred around Ladhadhka, a little warren of cobbled streets, reasonably priced restaurants and rowdy bars near the shore that feels like a less touristy, Balkan-influenced Temple Bar. The area was once the beating heart of Thessaloniki’s Jewish community. After Ferdinand and Isabella expelled Jews from Spain in 1492, they settled en masse in the city.
Sadly little of this Jewish legacy remains today, bar a few screeds of Hebrew graffiti high on the old city walls and a couple of synagogues in the side streets around Ladhadhka that serve the 1,000 Jews still living in the city. During the Nazi occupation of Greece, Thessaloniki’s Jews were forced into a ghetto near the rail lines and, eventually, deported to concentration camps. In all, around 60,000 were killed.
Walking through Thessaloniki late one afternoon, I’m struck by a minaret’s shining crescent rising above the skyline. “What’s that?” I ask Nico. “Ah, my friend, that is our Parthenon, the Rotunda.” Built by the Romans, converted into a mosque by the Ottomans, re-consecrated by the Greek Orthodox Church and now a national monument, it’s hard to imagine a more fitting symbol for this beguiling, bewitching palimpsest of a city.
KLM to Athens from Dublin or Cork via Amsterdam, from €280 (daily flights). Aer Lingus to Athens from Dublin, from €240 (three days a week, May-September). Fly Athens to Thessaloniki with Olympic from €32.
The Met Hotel from €119, Anatolia Hotel from €69, Holiday Inn from €65 for a double room, including breakfast.
No end of choice with something to suit almost every palette, from traditional Greek to Turkish cuisine and contemporary fusion. Expect to pay €20 for a meal at a decent restaurant, excluding alcohol.
The White Tower, standing proudly on the waterfront, literally cannot be missed. Among Thessaloniki’s numerous Byzantine churches Ayia Sofia and Basilica of Saint Demetrius are probably the best, but if you’ve time, check out the 11th century Panayia Halkeon. A hike up to the old city walls affords a fantastic view of the city. The Archaeological Museum is well worth a visit.
Thessalonians are renowned fashionistas and the city boats a wide range of designer stores as well as small boutiques selling original designs, exquisite jewellery and high quality leather goods. The city is also famous for its food markets. Modiano, the city’s biggest food market, features great fresh food from across the region.
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