Athonos Square is, the well-fed cats lounging in sun-dappled corners, their eyes gleaming with the promise of a shared feast from the kind souls who revel in the smoky delights of Katsamakas’ legendary grill-house. It’s the patient lines outside Harilaos’ nut shop, a time-honored ritual, and the glistening fresh catch at Psaras’ -to be taken home, perhaps, or better yet, savored at the ouzeri next door, where ouzo spills into laughter, and good-hearted teasing swirls with the scent of the sea. A siren’s call, especially for Athenians enchanted by the folkloric indulgence of Thessaloniki’s easy luxury.
And then there are the chairs -row upon row- curtain rods, bamboo lamps, director’s seats waiting for new stories to unfold. And Giannis, reclining with effortless ease in his prized Emmanuelle armchair, as if the square itself had crowned him king of its carefree, timeless soul.
You wander into Sarai pastry shop, where the syrup-drenched sweets of Veria glisten under the light, and the master of sherbets stands poised in his spotless, snow-white uniform, a quiet guardian of indulgence.
From there, you slip into a side street, where the smoky, herb-infused cheeses of Gaïs beckon alongside Ragian’s perek and the lean paskitan cheeses -each bite a signature of Pontic cuisine at its finest.
Athonos unfolds upon strings of mesmerizing beads, candle shops, hardware shops with walls lined with paints and ironwork, and on Papamarkou Street -the beating heart of it all- Roots, the beloved vegan restaurant. Papamarkou, where silversmiths etch delicate dreams into gold, where Poutigas' pastries cradle the warmth of home, and where the legendary Bazaar café of Babis awakens at nightfall. When the shutters come down on the shops, Bazaar comes alive -a clandestine sanctuary of bistro finesse, jazz melodies, and wines so exquisite they gleam like liquid diamonds in the glass.
Alleyways laced with the scent of spices and the old-world charm of colonial goods. Ouzeris and bustling meat taverns, overflowing on weekends with visitors from the provinces -pilgrims to the Thessalonian myth. But watch your step, for here the air is thick with glances, murmured invitations, and the age-old game of persuasion.
Then, a moment of stillness -a strikingly magnified photograph of Ari Georgiou, suspended in quiet homage where once stood the Woodturning Workshop of Stavros Tsavdaridis. Georgiou’s “Papamarkou and the Surroundings” lingers as an ode to a place he once called home:
"The neighbors -for this was the backdrop of my youth. The shopkeepers of Papamarkou Street and the narrow veins of Athonos Square- captured, immortalized, carried beyond the city’s borders. Many kept their portraits, hanging them in their storefronts like relics of time well spent. And they remained, always, good friends -people whose simple good morning carried the weight of belonging".
Dreamed into existence by Hébrard, who envisioned markets flanking the axis of Aristotelous -echoes of their ancient predecessors from Greco-Roman and early Christian times- Athonos Square stood with its ground-floor shops and two-story buildings, their twin-arched windows whispering of Byzantium. But the earthquake of ’78 nearly erased it.
A proposal followed: to demolish it entirely and replace it with a gleaming commercial center. Thankfully, the idea never took root. Instead, in the ’90s, during the city’s tenure as European Capital of Culture, Vatikiótis’ canopies were raised, their elegant curves now forming a dialogue with the vaulted halls of Kapani. Together, they weave a seamless journey for the wandering soul, leading through Thessaloniki’s two great folk markets.
