Northeastern Greece (Greek Customs is NOT for the Faint of Heart)

Driving through customs between Türkiye and Greece--check EVERYTHING in Greece before you leave that customs insurance office!!

For the next few weeks I’ll be sending you postcard snapshots of various places. These are, for the most part, not the usual tourist cities. The weather is hot, and the beaches are crowded. WE HAVE NO RESERVATIONS. Join me as we wander through the Balkans and parts of western Europe by the seat of our pants.

A Day of Sunflowers in Türkiye and Greece

The traffic from Gallipoli to Ipsala, the border between Türkiye and Greece, was very light. Too light, actually. In the middle of summer, vacationers travel heavily between Türkiye and Greece, and there weren't as many cars as there should have been. But we kept going, thinking that on a Monday morning, maybe the vacation crowd was still asleep.

Our friends had warned us that because vacationing in Türkiye had become so expensive, even the Turks were heading to cheaper Greece for their summers. We expected the crossing to be busy. It was, but not for the reasons I assumed.

Arriving at the border, I was impressed. The Turkish customs office complex was a new, clean facility with a coffee house, a duty-free store, and other offices awaiting those coming from Greece. We pulled in behind a half-mile-long line of cars where no one was moving on either side.

The Greeks are on Strike

We turned off the car to wait. My husband took a stroll and found a Turkish customs officer to ask his questions. The Greeks had called a strike for that morning, from 7:00 to 11:30 a.m. “Didn’t you hear about it?” the officer asked. Nope. Apparently, the Greeks had issues on their side, and it affected every customs office in Greece. If their side looked anything like the new, clean Turkish side, I couldn’t see where the problem would be. The Turks had a 24/7 facility, even with their own chickens in a tastefully designed coop for fresh eggs in the mornings. What could be the problem?

Keep in mind that this is the FIRST time I have ever driven through a border crossing. Until now, I’ve flown through them all. Within forty-five minutes, the line began moving in fits and spurts. I felt very sorry for the woman on the motorcycle on the Greek side, who had been trapped just past 7:30 a.m. and had to wait four hours. In 90-degree heat. I was most concerned for the long-haul truckers. Their economic lives were significantly affected.

When we finally made it across the river to Greece, I was shocked.

Greek Customs at Ipsala Is Dirty and Chaotic

The sides of the road were scattered with garbage. And not a little. The road was rough and, in places, almost impassable because of potholes and missing asphalt. Even in our heavy-duty vehicle, I had to crawl forward. Long-haul trucks lined both sides of the road, and the drivers gathered in groups with tea and cigarettes, apparently waiting for their paperwork to be processed. As we nosed our way through the poorly marked route to the Greek customs building, I then understood the need for a strike. The Greek officers were working in a place that looked like a war zone. 

After we cleared customs, we were allowed entry and told where to buy the green insurance for our car. My husband met with the local agent (as his Turkish agent suggested) and purchased insurance for the countries we were going to.

One of the truck drivers in the office warned him (in Turkish) that there would most likely be a problem with the paperwork, and that he should look it over carefully and try to find the issue. My husband dutifully checked all his information, and the rest of the document looked correct.

So we continued.

God help that woman if my husband ever sees her again…

Off to Kavala, Greece

Back in the car, we threaded through the war zone of parked cars, stranded truckers, and the chaos of Greek customs. We intended to stay in Kavala, a small seaside town recommended by a friend. It looked to be a charming town, and I really would have liked to have stayed at least one night, but when searching for hotel rooms, given the lack of availability of anything other than those that might have bed bugs, we decided just to stop for coffee (for me) and ice cream (for him), fuel up the car, and head on to Thessaloniki.

Traveling by the Seat of One’s Pants Is A Challenge

The road from Ipsala, Türkiye to Thessaloniki, Greece began badly, but gradually improved to a mediocre freeway with a toll booth approximately every twenty minutes. If traveling in Greece by car, take a LOT of coins in Euros.

The mountains of Bulgaria are very close, towering up from the valley. I am used to much of agricultural Türkiye being farmed within an inch of its life. Not so here in this part of Greece. Despite the hectares of sunflowers, many areas were left empty and untended.

In Thessaloniki, we found our boutique hotel in the heart of the old town. And again, Greece did its thing. The hotel was in a great location, and as you can see from the photo above, we had a great view. Good air conditioning and hot water rounded out the redeeming qualities.

Reviews are Not Your Friend (Especially on Booking.com)

This hotel had excellent reviews, all of which had to have been fake. My husband, dismayed by what he had booked, then learned to double-check Booking.com reviews on other sites like Google Maps. Small and not very clean, the hotel staff, from their attitude, obviously did not want to be there. Their “close by” parking was a joke, and the receptionist tried to sell me their “parking plan” with a local garage that was ridiculously expensive. This was the first time in years my husband had booked a hotel for us that wasn't first class. We both were more than a bit surprised.

At least there were no bedbugs.

Since he’d paid in advance, we stayed for two nights and made the best of it with good food and long walks around the city. Fabulous boutiques, pocket parks, and places to have coffee and ice cream (yes, there’s a trend here). We walked even in the heat, the breeze from the water making it bearable.

Thessaloniki

The city is very similar to Izmir, Türkiye, and is somewhat similar to New Orleans. Here’s a bit of the architecture below. From a distance, the city appears all white, but up close, you can see it isn’t.

Many of the streets are tree-lined, which made a big difference when walking in the summer heat. As long as we stayed in the shade, things were very pleasant.

The White Tower is on one end of the bay, and we climbed to the top for the view. (Well, my husband climbed to read all the historical information, since this tower is now a museum. I was there for the view.)

One entire street of restaurants and boutiques is filled with orange trees for blocks. Little things like this make a city livable. And, for the most part, according to the residents we talked with, they enjoy living here. Apart from our sad little hotel, the vibe was pleasant and lively. The city was filled with tourists but also residents going about their business.

The women residents dress much better than the tourists, so it was easy to tell who lived here and who didn't. My tourist clothes and bright blue shoes (I have huge feet; these were the only pair that fit that day!) were an obvious tag for the locals.

Saved By The Food

Even though the tourist restaurants near our hotel were busy, the food was good, and we crashed the first night. Our second night, I took some time to find something special. The highlight of the trip was Λόγια δικά μας, with the name translating roughly to “Between You and Me.” Again, there was a talented chef and extremely good staff, just as in Galiboli. Every time, that kitchen talent makes such a difference.

Then, the next morning, we were off again.