The new Thessaloniki metro - M.Drosopoulos/OBCT
The Thessaloniki Metro, a project of decades in the making, is a story of adversity. Finally inaugurated in 2024 after a long and often turbulent journey, the metro is hailed not only as a vital transportation link but also as a symbol of coexistence between history and progress
At Venizelou station, a restless crowd braved the cold wind and the rain that fell in teasing droplets on November 30, 2024. Their scarves pulled tight, their umbrellas swaying like hesitant flags, people had come from every corner of the city and its outskirts, drawn by something they hardly dared to believe — a promise decades in the making, finally fulfilled.
Some had been schoolchildren when the metro was first dreamed of — brimming with youthful hopes for a brighter, easier Thessaloniki. Now, wrinkles tracing their faces and retirement nearing, they stood shoulder to shoulder with younger generations, squinting into the rain-slicked glow of the station that was about to be delivered to the citizens. “We had to see for ourselves”, one muttered, his voice caught between amazement and disbelief. Beneath their feet lay the bones of the city — ancient marble roads and Byzantine remnants — while before them stretched the sleek, modern promise of a new Thessaloniki.
The system, initially comprising 13 stations over 9.6 kilometres, features driverless trains — an achievement that places it among the most modern metro systems in Europe. Each station is uniquely impressive, combining sleek, contemporary design with displays of archaeological finds, turning ordinary commutes into journeys through time.
An ambitious… hole in the ground
The tale of Thessaloniki's metro began in 1986, when the first formal discussions about a modern subway system emerged. The city, Greece's second largest, was grappling with congestion and the limitations of its surface infrastructure. The metro was envisioned as a transformative solution to these challenges, promising to alleviate traffic and provide efficient public transportation.
Two years later, in a symbolic act, then mayor Sotiris Kouvelas dug a hole in the ground on Egnatia Street, at a point designated by a group of experts that he had hired. This would hail the official beginning of a construction project that would last for three futile years without delivering any tangible results. Kouvelas’ vision sank as it was neither financially nor operationally viable. Eventually, the initial construction works did more harm than good, causing permanent damages on that spot.
Despite the initial enthusiasm, bureaucratic hurdles and financial constraints delayed concrete action for decades. Construction officially began in 2006, marking a significant milestone for Thessaloniki. Yet, what followed was a series of interruptions and controversies that stretched the project far beyond its original timeline. One of the most contentious aspects of the metro's development was its intersection with the city’s rich archaeological legacy.
Controversy and citizen activism
Thessaloniki, a city continuously inhabited for over 2,300 years, sits atop layers of history, from Hellenistic and Roman periods to Byzantine and Ottoman eras. As construction crews began digging, they unearthed stunning archaeological finds, including a marble-paved Byzantine road, shops and other artifacts at the Venizelou and Agia Sofia stations. The discovery sparked a heated debate. Preservationists and archaeologists argued that the treasures should remain in situ, integrated into the metro stations to allow the public to experience Thessaloniki's layered history. Others, citing costs and delays, favoured relocating the artifacts to museums.
In 2015, the Greek Council of State ruled in favour of preserving the antiquities discovered at Thessaloniki's Venizelou metro station in their original locations. This decision, which was influenced by then mayor Yannis Boutaris and segments of the archaeological and scientific community, added complexity to the engineering and design process. In December 2019, the Central Archaeological Council (KAS) revisited the issue and recommended the temporary removal and subsequent reinstatement of the artifacts to facilitate the station's construction. This development was met with public protests and legal challenges. The slogan "Crime at Venizelou station", displayed on banners and posters all around the city, encapsulated public dissent and critics’ fear that the removal could damage the artifacts and disrupt their historical context.
Despite the opposition, the Ministry of Culture proceeded with the plan, and the Council of State ultimately approved the temporary relocation in 2021, deeming it necessary to ensure the integrity and protection of the monument. The Greek government committed to reinstating the artifacts within the station upon completion.
Beyond the archaeological hurdles, the project weathered Greece’s financial crisis in the 2010s, which caused delays and funding shortfalls. The following governments made bold promises about completion dates, but only in 2016 did that momentum truly pick up. New tunnelling technologies, combined with careful planning to minimise disruption to the city and its historical treasures, eventually brought the project back on track.
Today, the Venizelou station features an exceptional in situ exhibit of the ancient Decumanus Maximus, allowing commuters to experience Thessaloniki's rich history firsthand. For many, the metro is a global marvel, blending ancient heritage with cutting-edge infrastructure. What makes the Thessaloniki metro especially unique is its dual identity as both a transportation hub and an open museum. Unlike most metro systems, which prioritise functionality above all, Thessaloniki's stations serve as windows into the past. This marriage of ancient and modern is unparalleled, not only in Europe but across the world, reinforcing Thessaloniki's status as a cultural and historical crossroads.
A lesson in resilience
Despite its achievements, the metro’s journey was not without cost — both financial and emotional. The years of delays, disputes and disruptions tested the patience of Thessalonians, who had long endured traffic congestion and noise pollution from the construction. Not to mention the heavy price paid by small local enterprises that were literally buried behind the ugly fences meant to clumsily conceal the ongoing construction works all over the city.
“When the metro works started, many shops in the neighbourhood became not only invisible, but also inaccessible”, says Foteini Terzidou, (former) owner of a boutique near Delfon street. “Business owners had been told that this would be something temporary, but it lasted for months… for years… until some of us just couldn’t hang on anymore. I was already close to retirement, but this miserable situation made me retire faster than I normally would have”.
Stranded at Nea Elvetia: the metro’s modern paradox
Thessaloniki’s metro, sleek and efficient, whisks its passengers through the city’s bustling heart with an ease that would make even the most impatient commuter nod in approval. And yet, for all its sophistication, there is a place where the dream grinds to an absurd halt: the eastern terminus at Nea Elvetia.
Here, the paradox of Thessaloniki’s metro is laid bare. A passenger can glide through the city, covering kilometres in mere minutes, only to step off the train and face an inconvenient truth. Nea Elvetia, with all its modern promise, is where progress meets inertia. Beyond this terminal lies Kalamaria, one of Thessaloniki’s thriving suburbs, and farther still, the Macedonia Airport — a gateway to the world. But for those needing to go just a little farther east, the journey slows to a maddening crawl.
It begins with the wait
There is something timelessly Greek about waiting, but this is not the leisurely patience of a kafeneio table or a ferry under the Aegean sun. No, this is the frustrated shuffle of passengers staring at a bus timetable that might as well be a work of fiction. A bus to Kalamaria? Perhaps in 20 minutes. Or 25. Or — on particularly unlucky days — 45. For the beleaguered traveller, this pause is a cruel undoing of the time saved on the metro.
The situation would be almost comical if it were not so exasperating. Imagine: you have zipped through Thessaloniki in record time, marvelling at how far the city’s transit system has come, only to stand in the sun or rain at Nea Elvetia, wondering how a bus stop could feel so far removed from modernity.
