So, this morning my alarm didn’t wake us up
at our scheduled time of 08:00. It was my intent to leave early to get to
‘Simeondis’ travel agents for 09:00. However, we slowly crept from our sleep to
get ready for going out. Liam was frozen all night, him sleeping under the
air-con and all, meant he had a disturbed sleep. I, on the other hand, stirred
only once. We departed our hotel at 09:25 and headed west towards Democracy
Square. We then turned off down 26th October Street. I expected the
shop to be at the bottom of this street – a good mile away. However the Law
Courts, as indicated in my e-mail instructions, appeared to our left. So we
crossed over and located our building. A porter indicated, using sign language,
the first floor. So we went up. On the door there was a sign – in Greek. It
said ‘Simeondis’ on it, but there was no answer. We tried opening it but no
luck. Reading a number (and a vague similarity to numbers, a second ‘numeral’
we assumed it opened at 10:00, so we departed. To kill time, we discovered the
old city wall. So we walked around the back (behind the Law Courts) via a small
park, back to our original destination. The walls were a good 3000 yards from
the sea, beating my assumption that they went all the way to the waters edge.
Once 10:00 had been reached, we moved in once
more. Again the door remained unanswered and locked. Liam suggested we go up a
floor, which we did. Lo and behold, there was the office. I produced my e-mail
to the girl on the front desk. She opened her book and saw my name. I noticed
it was at the top of the list for the bus that day – talk about forward
planning! She took our passports, and gave us a stamped ticket and our
passports. We paid €20 each for the one-way coach. It was to depart tomorrow at
17:30 opposite our building.
We then walked back to our hotel room. We
rehydrated and applied sun cream before departing again – handing in our room
key to the friendly reception man. Liam noticed a fort of the hill yesterday,
so we decided to hike it there. So we stuck to a northeasterly route up the
hill. We passed a massive open space, in front of what looked like a municipal
building, which contained what one could only presume to be Roman/Greek ruins.
They were spectacular, especially against the overbearing buildings around us.
We then continued.
Above one of the next east/west roads we
appeared to be in more residential surroundings. There were still slim and
windy streets but the gradient was getting steeper. The housing must have been
built mostly in the 1950s or 1970s – depending on the block. All had small
balconies and over them had screens for shade. Cars were almost always parked
chaotically on the road, especially at junctions. We pressed on.
Only for the local bus going past, to
indicate some sense of familiarity in somewhat unfamiliar surroundings, we were
best able to predict that we were on the right track. So we pushed on. We then
got to a point where a house wasn't built in-between the sandwiched buildings.
The views were superb. It reminded me of
images I have seen of Jerusalem – only with a bay; the crisp, turquoise sea
glistening in the midday sun. Facing south, we could see east to where the
airport was, scanning the bay – with its smattering of sea vessels – across to
the tip of the port in the west. To our left was the old city wall, crawling
past us, up the hill, to our destination. The Fort.
Directly ahead of us, looking south was the wall
striding towards the Rotunda. We could see the small, spiky tower next to the
Archaeological Museum we visited yesterday, and the vastness of the Thermaikos
Gulf before us. We then retreated back to the town, following
the wall south, capturing a glimpse of the Rotunda close up as we went past.
Its brick was almost sandstone like. Its accompanying tower must have been a
later addition. We retraced out steps westwards down Egnatia in search of food.
We intended on going ‘local’ out of a street side fast food outlet, but were
put off by there being no English to help us make an informed culinary choice.
So we walked down the ‘Bond Street’ of Thess, Tsimiski, and back to Aristotle
Square. Here we ate at a different establishment, but still soaking up the
daytime atmosphere.
Liam then wanted to witness the forum. So we
walked up to Archea Agora Square, where we saw a pack of wild dogs snoozing in
the shade, and onward to the forum beyond. Another sighting of a vast Roman
settlement. A massive plaza in its centre but then tunnels and archways
underneath, at its edge. To the right, an amphitheatre where Liam said
discussions would have been held. Battling with the heat, we returned to the
hotel for 14:00.
Watching some TV, it is interesting to
observe how it compares to UK TV – and I do say that it is no competition. A TV
show that looks like it is a 1990s repeat does actually seem to be recently
made. So I opted for Eurosport – always modern!
It was on this day that I became aware of the depth of history of the city. I had known the regional history, but that it made its appearance in a city, hiding under grass, near the sea, next to more modern buildings, brought home the idea of Thessaloniki having more that what was being presented at first glance.
Since my visit, I have read Mark Mazower's Salonica: City of Ghosts (2004). This book enlightened me so much on the history of the city covering the last 500 years. Given that it rests within a Greek state, this city has been under Byzantine, Ottoman, German and Greek rule, and been targeted for rule by Bulgarians and Serbians. This was already known to me, but the diverse make up of the people that made this walled city was unknown. Most presentations of the city look at the Greek, Turkish or Bulgarian populations that inhabited this city, but lacking in study were the Jews who, up to 1912, were the largest ethnic group in Thessaloniki. The Ladidka is what remains of their physical presence in the centre. This was not only down to the mass slaughter on the city's dwindling population by the Nazi's during the course of World War II; but also because of great many a fire in the city over the years, or economic opportunities elsewhere. These residents and a host of other peoples resided in Thessaloniki over the centuries, ebbing and flowing in numbers as time went on. This book captures the vibrancy of how these people lived, how they were organised, what the customs were, and in what buildings they lived. One of my fascinations is the aesthetic beauty that buildings have, and my curiosity as to the intent of a certain style. At present the Modernist builds project rationality and purpose. But past building had other purposes that may be redundant now yet instead posses that aesthetic beauty somewhat more.
The home of Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey, had Ottoman as its style, with its characteristic bay window which can still be seen today. On the note of Ataturk, who would now have been born in Greece, it should be remembered that after Greece took over Salonica, he was one of the Turkish generals engaged in the war between Greece and Turkey in 1923 that saw hundreds of thousands displaced. Greeks fled Anatolia, whilst Turks and Muslims fled to Turkey. This meant that by 1929, 75% of the city was now Greek. The Greek nationalising of the city could then begin in earnest.
And it is this ethnic homogenisation, along with the binary of nationalisation/de-Ottomonization of Thessaloniki, that can be witnessed at present in the architectural and social structures of the city. This is what Maximilian Hartmuth observes in his article in Urban Life and Culture in Southeastern Europe (Roth and Brunnbauer, 2006). This leads on to the wider concepts of national identity, nationalism and citizenship, as categorisations of people, whether objective or subjective, and the processes that these concepts engage in or emanate from. But these will out in further debates. Only to finally say that Thessaloniki is a city that may seem 'modern' in its presentation, and Greek in its identification, but it has 'resided' in numerous states and empires, yet always remained regionally in 'Macedonia' (however one wishes to define its borders) whilst being historically diverse in its populations.
It was on this day that I became aware of the depth of history of the city. I had known the regional history, but that it made its appearance in a city, hiding under grass, near the sea, next to more modern buildings, brought home the idea of Thessaloniki having more that what was being presented at first glance.
Since my visit, I have read Mark Mazower's Salonica: City of Ghosts (2004). This book enlightened me so much on the history of the city covering the last 500 years. Given that it rests within a Greek state, this city has been under Byzantine, Ottoman, German and Greek rule, and been targeted for rule by Bulgarians and Serbians. This was already known to me, but the diverse make up of the people that made this walled city was unknown. Most presentations of the city look at the Greek, Turkish or Bulgarian populations that inhabited this city, but lacking in study were the Jews who, up to 1912, were the largest ethnic group in Thessaloniki. The Ladidka is what remains of their physical presence in the centre. This was not only down to the mass slaughter on the city's dwindling population by the Nazi's during the course of World War II; but also because of great many a fire in the city over the years, or economic opportunities elsewhere. These residents and a host of other peoples resided in Thessaloniki over the centuries, ebbing and flowing in numbers as time went on. This book captures the vibrancy of how these people lived, how they were organised, what the customs were, and in what buildings they lived. One of my fascinations is the aesthetic beauty that buildings have, and my curiosity as to the intent of a certain style. At present the Modernist builds project rationality and purpose. But past building had other purposes that may be redundant now yet instead posses that aesthetic beauty somewhat more.
The home of Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey, had Ottoman as its style, with its characteristic bay window which can still be seen today. On the note of Ataturk, who would now have been born in Greece, it should be remembered that after Greece took over Salonica, he was one of the Turkish generals engaged in the war between Greece and Turkey in 1923 that saw hundreds of thousands displaced. Greeks fled Anatolia, whilst Turks and Muslims fled to Turkey. This meant that by 1929, 75% of the city was now Greek. The Greek nationalising of the city could then begin in earnest.
And it is this ethnic homogenisation, along with the binary of nationalisation/de-Ottomonization of Thessaloniki, that can be witnessed at present in the architectural and social structures of the city. This is what Maximilian Hartmuth observes in his article in Urban Life and Culture in Southeastern Europe (Roth and Brunnbauer, 2006). This leads on to the wider concepts of national identity, nationalism and citizenship, as categorisations of people, whether objective or subjective, and the processes that these concepts engage in or emanate from. But these will out in further debates. Only to finally say that Thessaloniki is a city that may seem 'modern' in its presentation, and Greek in its identification, but it has 'resided' in numerous states and empires, yet always remained regionally in 'Macedonia' (however one wishes to define its borders) whilst being historically diverse in its populations.
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