Return to the Empire

THE stout woman behind the ticket booth at Istanbul’s sprawling Otagor bus station looks quizzical, “Thessaloniki?”.

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.