‘Amirim’ Tour 2025 – Thessaloniki
After two years of studying the Ottoman Empire from a wide range of historical, historiographical, cultural, and even architectural perspectives — and following a semester dedicated specifically to Thessaloniki — our three-year academic journey culminated in a five-day tour of the city itself. Originally, our destination was meant to be Istanbul, but, as often happens in wartime, we went to bed with Turkey and woke up with Greece. Yamas! Döner or gyros — either way, we rolled with it.
Day One – Arrival, the White Tower, Vlatadon Monastery, Yedi Kule Fortress
We departed from Terminal 1 at an hour even Amit wouldn’t be awake in. Only later did we learn that we had narrowly escaped a Houthi missile strike. Eyal, in true Eyal fashion, thought there was no better way to start a sleepless day than at the White Tower. Before we could even mutter "Yedikule" — or, heaven forbid, sneak in a quick nap — the tour was underway.
That’s when we met our guide, Evyenia — a Greek storyteller in every sense of the word. Whether filling our sleepy silences or waving an A4 sign marked “AMIRIM,” her voice, often punctuated with “Hello!” and applause, never failed to bring us back to attention.
While Evyenia was eager to highlight the glory of Byzantium, Eyal saw to it that we never lost sight of the Ottoman context that the Greek national narrative so often prefers to forget. That narrative tension emerged immediately at our first stop: the White Tower. Built as an Ottoman fortress and later used as a prison, the tower now serves as a museum and tourist site. There, we were introduced to the klephts — bandits turned folk heroes — and to the various communities that passed through Thessaloniki under different regimes.
After a break on the rooftop terrace of the White Tower, we traveled to Vlatadon Monastery. There, we learned how the clergy’s cooperation with the Ottomans spared their church from conversion into a mosque, a fate common to religious structures during the conquest. Inside, elaborate frescoes depicted Christ as Pantokrator, surrounded by a halo — a traditional posthumous depiction of holiness. To top it off, we witnessed an Orthodox baptism, and even encountered flocks of peacocks and exotic birds — apparently universal symbols of abundance.
Next, we climbed to the city’s Upper Town (Acropolis), one of the few areas untouched by the Great Fire of 1917. The difference in urban planning was striking. The fire had cleared the way for boulevards and geometric grids, but the Acropolis preserved its older, denser layout of narrow alleys. From there, we gazed out over the city and saw the White Tower from afar, now nestled along the Mediterranean coast.
Our final stop for the day was Yedi Kule — a fortress turned prison in the late 19th century. Named during the Ottoman era, it once served as a central garrison. Originally designed to protect those inside, it later served to isolate prisoners from the outside world. We wandered through the cells, even entering the solitary confinement chambers — a chilling and unforgettable experience. We ended the day with a warm, surprisingly lively dinner at the local Chabad House.
Day Two – Byzantine Art Museum, Hagia Sophia, Hamidiyye Avenue, the Rotunda, Arch of Galerius
We began day two by confronting the Byzantine narrative of Thessaloniki, a version of history that, as Evyenia taught us (perhaps unintentionally), is emphasized in modern Greek culture over the Ottoman one — especially since the city's incorporation into the Greek nation-state in 1912.
At the Museum of Byzantine Culture, we admired mosaics and centuries-old artworks. School groups passed us in the halls, a reminder of how the museum plays a role in shaping national memory. But the prominence of the “comfortable” narrative highlighted the erasure of the more difficult, often-forgotten histories — which Eyal reminded us never to overlook.
From there, we visited Hagia Sophia, a Byzantine church built in the 8th century, which encapsulates the city’s layered history. Erected during the Iconoclastic period (when it featured only a cross), it was later adorned with elaborate frescoes, converted into a mosque, and then reconverted into a church after Thessaloniki joined the Greek state. The church was also damaged in the 1917 fire — scars still visible today.
We continued to Hamidiyye Avenue, whose Western-style architecture reflected Sultan Abdul Hamid II’s openness to European aesthetics. From there, we reached the Rotunda, built in 306 CE by Roman Emperor Galerius. Its octagonal structure, designed for seismic resilience, bathed us in natural light and amplified our clapping — we couldn’t resist testing the acoustics.
Our next stop was the Arch of Galerius, commemorating Rome’s victory over Persia. The arch is carved with reliefs glorifying Galerius, conveniently omitting the battles he lost. Once again, we were reminded of the selective nature of historical memory.
That evening, back at the hotel, we attended a fascinating lecture by Giorgos Antoniou, a Greek Holocaust historian, who guided us through the complexities of public memory regarding the destruction of Thessaloniki’s Jewish community and the challenges of its commemoration.
Day Three – Walking Tour with Eyal, Freedom Square, Jewish Museum, Yad LaZikaron Synagogue, Hamza Bey Mosque, Bezesteni Market, Church of Saint Demetrios
We began our third day with a walking tour led by Eyal through the Francos quarter — the upper socio-economic stratum of Thessaloniki’s Jewish elite. We visited the bank established by the Altini family and, later, the Modiano Market — a covered market designed by Eli Modiano, a member of another prominent Frankish Jewish family.
There, we discussed the controversial figure of Rabbi Zvi Koretz, chief rabbi during the Holocaust. Koretz’s collaboration with the Nazis remains a subject of debate: did he try to save the community, or merely himself? In the end, the overwhelming majority of the Jewish community was annihilated, while Koretz survived — only to die shortly after the war.
We continued to Freedom Square — located near our hotel — a site of both celebration and trauma. In 1908, celebrations were held in Freedom Square following the restoration of the Ottoman constitution and the reconvening of the parliament., but on July 11, 1942, it witnessed the “Black Sabbath”: thousands of Jewish men aged 19–45 were gathered, tortured, and humiliated before being sent to forced labor camps, including Kraya.
Our next stop was the Jewish Museum — a modest yet heavily secured building due to concerns of antisemitic attacks. There, we explored Thessaloniki’s Jewish heritage: religious artifacts, historic tombstones, a room dedicated to Judeo-Greek music, and a memorial wall honoring the victims of the Holocaust. From the museum, we visited the neighboring Yad LaZikaron Synagogue, where Eyal shared his family’s roots in Thessaloniki and told us about the tension and cultural exchange between the Sephardic and Romaniote Jewish traditions.
After lunch, we viewed the Ottoman Bank (under renovation), and learned of the 1903 bombings carried out by the Bulgarian anarchist group “The Boatmen of Thessaloniki.” Their attacks targeted Ottoman infrastructure — including this very bank — to draw international attention to the Macedonian cause.
We continued to the Bezesteni Market, a historic textile bazaar built during the Ottoman period, notable for its six glass domes and architectural distinction. From there, we headed to the Hamza Bey Mosque, built by Hafsa Hatun, daughter of Hamza Bey, in her father’s memory. Yet it is his name, not hers, that remains associated with the building. After population exchanges between Greece and Turkey, the mosque ceased to function as a place of worship. It was sold to private hands and operated as a cinema for decades.
Next, we visited the new metro station, built into the ruins of an ancient hammam, where remarkably well-preserved remnants of a Roman road are still visible. We ended the day at the stunning Church of Saint Demetrios — arguably the most important church in the city. Inside, we admired its mosaics and holy water, and, most strikingly, discovered that some of its paving stones were repurposed from the destroyed Jewish cemetery — a chilling detail.
Day Four – Monastir Synagogue, Atatürk’s House, Zeitenlik Military Cemetery, Jewish Cemetery, Holocaust Museum Site, Villa Alatini, Villa Kapanci, “Kraya 1943” Exhibit, Yeni Cami
Our fourth day began at the Monastir Synagogue, built by Jews from Bitola (then Monastir) who migrated to Thessaloniki following the Balkan Wars and World War I. Designed by Jewish architect Eliyahou Ernst Levi in neo-classical style, it is one of the city’s most majestic synagogues. It survived WWII largely because it was used by the Red Army as a warehouse. The vivid colors, architectural beauty, and resilient history of the building left a deep impression.
We then visited the childhood home of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, founder of modern Turkey. The visit was especially meaningful given the historically fraught relationship between Greece and Turkey, particularly following the 1923 population exchange. The house now serves as a pilgrimage site for Turkish visitors, especially Kemalists, who see it as a symbolic piece of their national identity. Even the nearby rakı shop reinforced the sense of Turkish presence.
From there, we headed to the Zeitenlik Military Cemetery — Thessaloniki’s official WWI cemetery. We noted how different countries commemorated their fallen soldiers through varied burial traditions. We also learned about Eleftherios Venizelos, the controversial local leader who established a rival government against King Constantine I during WWI.
We then made our way to the new Jewish Cemetery. In stark contrast to Zeitenlik, this cemetery appeared neglected, with only a few well-maintained memorials. The original Jewish cemetery had once stood where the University of Thessaloniki is now located. It was largely destroyed by the Nazis, with the support of the city’s administration We were especially struck by the gravestones written in different languages: some in Yiddish, others in Greek — so that even spouses buried side-by-side had their epitaphs in different tongues. Many stones marked the resting places of Holocaust survivors who returned to Thessaloniki.
From there, we continued to the train station from which the deportations to death and labor camps took place. Approximately 94% of Thessaloniki’s Jews were murdered in the Holocaust — the highest destruction rate of any Jewish community in Europe. A Holocaust Museum is planned for the site, but its construction has faced delays. For now, only decaying train cars mark the station, and the absence of a prominent memorial in the city center raises questions about collective memory.
We visited the “Kraya 1943” exhibit, which included unsettling photos taken by a Nazi soldier. In one frame: a sunny picnic; in another, forced labor.
We then turned to Jewish life before the war, visiting Villa Alatini — the luxurious residence of the powerful Italian-Jewish Alatini family. They had major influence in education, trade, and politics under the Ottomans. We also visited Villa Kapanci, built by one of the city’s most prominent Sabbatean merchant families. There, we discussed Sabbatai Zevi’s legacy.
Our final stop of the day was Yeni Cami, where we learned about former mayor Yiannis Boutaris — a liberal, tattooed, recovering alcoholic who promoted LGBTQ+ rights, cannabis legalization, and historical preservation. He championed Jewish and Ottoman memory in the face of rising nationalism. We ended the night with live music, mastika, ouzo, and one word: Yamas!
Day Five – Mausoleum of Gazi Evrenos Bey, Edessa Waterfalls, Tomb of Philip II of Macedon
We began our final day at the mausoleum of Gazi Evrenos Bey, an Ottoman general who led campaigns across the Balkans in the late 14th century. His lineage continued to hold power until the fall of the Ottoman presence in the region. His origins remain mysterious — some believe he was a Greek convert to Islam. He died in 1417 and was buried in Giannitsa (then Yenice-i Vardar). His tomb, originally Seljuk in style, evolved through the centuries and is now a UNESCO-recognized heritage site.
From Giannitsa, we continued to the breathtaking Edessa Waterfalls, cooled off in the spray, and even spotted a rainbow.
The tour’s final stop was also one of its most awe-inspiring: the tomb of Philip II of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great. Outside the site, we discussed how Alexander became a cornerstone of Greek national identity — and the contentious question of his "true" nationality, a topic that continues to divide Greece and North Macedonia. Inside, the preservation of the burial chambers and artifacts was extraordinary — armor, crowns, ceramics, and more. We learned about the site’s discovery by Greek archaeologist Manolis Andronikos, a moment of immense national pride.
Conclusion
This tour was enriching and unforgettable — at times hilarious, at times sobering. We would like to thank Professor Eyal Ginio for guiding us from our first interviews to this final journey, and for leading the tour with expertise, humor, depth, and joy. Your love for the Ottomans (and the Greeks, slightly less so) was contagious.
Our gratitude also goes to Roni, whose steady leadership kept us on track — both physically and mentally — and who always managed to find time for coffee (and get us to finish it). Thank you to Amit, whom we got to know from a new angle; to Noora, the current head of the program, for your unique insights and engaging conversations; and of course to Evyenia, whose storytelling talent brought the Byzantine myths to life.
Finally, thank you to our peers in the program — you made this tour, and the three years leading up to it, truly unforgettable. For the laughter, the learning, and the togetherness — thank you.