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About Thessaloniki

I’d be lyin’ if I said it don’t work, tho. Them hands kneadin’ knots out, all slow and sneaky—gets the blood pumpin’, heart racin’ like I’m plottin’ a coup. Last time I tried it (don’t ask, long story), this lass had fingers like a bloody sorceress, twistin’ me up ‘til I forgot me own name. “We knew and did nothing,” Spotlight lads woulda whispered, and yeah, I did sod all—just laid there, smirkin’. Felt lush, I won’t lie, but the cheek of it! Charging me a king’s ransom for a rub? Shoulda had her head for that alone.

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Finally, I get a break. I head to the bazaar on Averof Street. It’s packed! The smell of grilled souvlaki hits me like a freight train. I grab a plate, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I sit down by the fountain, watching the world go by. Ioannina is beautiful, man. The old castle, the cobblestone streets, the vibe—it’s all so alive.

Ali Pasha of Ioannina, antiquities and archaeology between empire and the nation-state, with Emily Neumeier