A Date with Myself in Thessaloniki

And then I realised something else. It was Valentine's weekend. So technically, I was going on a date. With myself. In Thessaloniki.

For one night, I didn't need much in my green 40 × 30 × 20 cm backpack. That backpack has already travelled quite a few places with me, and it is perfect for exactly this kind of slightly ridiculous last-minute escape. Pack it, throw it on your back and go.

Friday, 13 February

The alarm at four in the morning sounded somewhat less romantic. I wanted to be at the airport at around 4:30, so I got up, got myself together, grabbed the green backpack and left. Naturally, I needed coffee once I got there. Unfortunately, at that hour neither the bar nor the restaurant was open, so my grand Valentine's date in Greece began with coffee from a vending machine at Bratislava Airport. The luxury would come later.

At 5:50, the plane took off, and I was mostly looking forward to that strange feeling I love about early flights: you board a plane in cold Bratislava in the morning and a couple of hours later step out somewhere completely different. After landing in Thessaloniki, coffee number two arrived, still at the airport. There is a bus into the city centre, so I wasn't in any rush. I had my coffee and waited for the connection.

Except it was lightly raining outside, and at that point I started questioning the brilliance of my entire plan. The forecast had promised partly cloudy to clear skies. If I had just escaped a cold Bratislava only to arrive in rainy Greece, then I had clearly failed to negotiate properly with the weather. Luckily, things improved.

I got off the bus at Alkazar, green backpack on my shoulders, and started walking slowly towards Aristotelous Square, then further on towards the sea and the White Tower. This is exactly what I like about Thessaloniki. It is a city where simply walking feels like a perfectly valid plan. I don't need to check Google Maps every ten minutes or chase the next attraction on a list. One street, then another, a coffee, the sea, and suddenly you are several kilometres away.

I ended up having breakfast at MIKEL Coffee. Coffee, something to eat and the first genuinely calm moment of the day. It was still drizzling occasionally outside, but by then it was becoming clear that the rain wasn't planning to stay all day.

My check-in was at 1:00 pm, so I still had plenty of time. Walking, another coffee, streets, the sea. For lunch I grabbed a gyros from a street place. Not every meal in Greece needs to become a gastronomic event. Sometimes standing on a pavement with a gyros in your hand is enough to know that you are exactly where you are supposed to be.

At one o'clock, I headed towards my accommodation and, to be fair, I was quite happy at the thought of finally taking the green backpack off my shoulders. I was staying at Philus, Nilie Hospitality MGMT. Access was via a code, and when I opened the room I immediately had one of those satisfying little moments when you think: yes, I chose well. The room looked exactly like the photos. Beautiful, clean, nicely designed, with a balcony overlooking the narrow streets, a television and a coffee machine. And next to it, two or three coffee capsules. A meaningless detail to some people; to me, a sign of a properly equipped room.

The green backpack stayed behind, I switched off for a while, and it felt surprisingly good to realise that only a few hours earlier I had been standing beside a coffee vending machine at Bratislava Airport and now I was sitting in Thessaloniki. Then it was time to go outside again.

By then the morning rain had practically disappeared and the city was beginning to look the way I had hoped it would. I wandered through the streets, reached Kamara, the Arch of Galerius, and didn't particularly hurry anywhere. I had already seen Thessaloniki the year before. This time I didn't need to "do" Thessaloniki. I just wanted to enjoy it. There was, however, one non-negotiable item on Friday's agenda.

The burger I came back for a year later

Brothers in Law. I had been looking forward to this one since I was still at home. In 2025, I had tried their spicy smashburger with jalapeños and somehow it had stayed in my head ever since. So when I bought the flight, it was more or less obvious where I would be eating on Friday.

I ordered the burger and a Coke, and that was it. No complicated Valentine's tasting menu, no seven courses paired with wine. Just a burger I had been craving for almost a year. Perfectly happy.

After dinner, I carried on through the city. By evening I had reached the waterfront near the statue of Alexander the Great. I had been awake since four in the morning, had spent the whole day walking, and yet I still wasn't ready to go back to my room. The sea, city lights, people outside, and that lovely feeling when you suddenly realise that only a few days earlier you had absolutely no idea you would be here. A good Friday, by any measure.

Saturday, 14 February

And now it was officially Valentine's Day. I stepped outside in the morning as the city was slowly waking up. Somewhere along one of the pedestrian streets, a cellist was playing. I, however, had a more practical priority: breakfast.

At PADRINO, I ordered scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, beetroot cream, cherry tomatoes, a Thessaloniki bun, rocket and orange sauce. Coffee on the side, plus a ginger tonic. Compared to the vending-machine coffee at Bratislava Airport the previous morning, my Valentine's date had clearly made significant gastronomic progress.

After breakfast, I returned to the accommodation for a while, but checkout was at 11:00 am, which created a practical problem. My flight wasn't until the evening. I still had almost an entire day ahead of me and, despite all the affection I have for my green backpack, I had absolutely no desire to carry it around for the next ten hours. Yes, it is small. Yes, I travel with nothing else. But try walking another fifteen kilometres with it simply because you have nowhere to leave it.

I found City Lockers on Chalkeon Street, locked the green backpack inside and suddenly everything was sorted. I had almost an entire Valentine's Day ahead of me: no luggage, no schedule, nothing I needed to tick off. So I went to the sea.

Sea on one side. Just keep walking.

I started along the waterfront towards the Thessaloniki Concert Hall. I'm not going to pretend there was some sophisticated travel strategy behind this. I simply walked. The centre gradually disappeared behind me, the White Tower became smaller in the distance and the promenade kept following the water. And on the horizon were snow-covered mountains.

I loved that. You are sitting beside the sea, the sun is shining and far away you are looking at snow. February in Thessaloniki can apparently give you several seasons in a single view.

The walk to the Concert Hall is a decent one. Once I reached it, I decided there was no need to prove anything on the way back. I would take the metro. And the metro turned out to be one of the nicest surprises of the trip.

As you travel down the escalators towards the platforms, you pass archaeological excavations displayed behind glass. During construction of the metro, yet more layers of Thessaloniki's history were uncovered and, rather than simply hiding them away, the city incorporated them into the stations. So you are literally on your way to catch a metro while walking past an archaeological site. Not bad for a commute to the platform.

Octopus. There really isn't much to think about.

Back near the White Tower, it was time to eat. I ended up at NTOPE on Romanou Street, practically just behind the White Tower. And they had octopus.

Octopus is one of my absolute favourites. If I see it on the menu and the restaurant looks good, the rest of the menu more or less stops existing. Here, they served it with a bean purée, and I ordered a glass of wine with it. It was brilliant. Genuinely brilliant.

It was the kind of food that makes you stop looking at the time. You take another bite, another sip of wine and suddenly realise there is absolutely nowhere you need to rush to. And at that moment, I had to admit that my Valentine's date was going rather well.

After lunch, I continued along the waterfront. More sea, a few more kilometres and gradually the sunset. I have no idea how many times I passed the White Tower during those two days, but I didn't mind in the slightest. Some places don't need to be avoided just because you have already seen them. Sometimes you want to walk exactly the same way again.

One last coffee with a view

Before leaving, I headed towards the old port. At LIMANI Maritime Museum & Restaurant, I sat down on the terrace, ordered a coffee and looked out at the sea and the White Tower one more time.

These are some of my favourite moments when travelling. There is nothing left I need to see. I'm no longer searching for anything on Google Maps. The food, the city, the kilometres and the sunset are already behind me. I just sit there with a coffee and know that these are my last few views of Thessaloniki before heading home.

From the old port, I walked back along the promenade, across Aristotelous Square and towards Chalkeon. My green backpack had been waiting for me there all day. I opened the locker, threw it back over my shoulders and my little Valentine's escape slowly began coming to an end.

There was still some time before the airport bus, though, so I had a farewell drink. I don't remember the name of the place, and I genuinely don't care. I don't need to bring home a database of every café, bar and restaurant I visited on every trip. I remember more important things.

I remember sitting there with my green backpack beside me, having spent just over forty hours in Thessaloniki, and feeling good. Then I finished my drink, picked up the backpack and walked to the bus for the airport.

So, how was my Valentine's Day?

Sitting on the airport bus that evening, green backpack next to me, I started replaying the previous two days in my head. Two mornings in Thessaloniki. A lot of coffee. Street gyros. The burger I had come back for after a year. A beautiful room. The sea. Kilometres on foot. Snow-covered mountains on the horizon. A metro station with archaeological excavations behind glass. Brilliant octopus with bean purée. Wine. Sunset. One last coffee at the old port. One farewell drink.

And one seriously good date. With myself.

Early on Friday morning, two of us had left cold Bratislava: me and my green backpack. Late on Saturday night, the two of us were heading home again. And at no point did I feel that anything had been missing from that weekend.

Maybe quite the opposite.