The Byzantine walls of Thessaloniki are clearly Byzantine; three metres thick, eight metres high, faced in stone for the first three metres and massive brick for the rest, some kilometres long. No-nonsense walls. Surrounding an enclave of narrow cobbled streets filled with small taverns; I ate for dinner the tentacles of a large octopus, cooked with olive-oil and vinegar, and a nice aubergine salad.
There is a general election in Greece today; civil servants get the day off; museums are State organisations run by civil servants; accordingly I've seen the insides of a number of Byzantine churches that were as old as Merton College is now when Merton College was founded, and the outsides of a number of good museums. The Lefkopyrgos of Thessaloniki is shut indefinitely for archaeological work. They're building a metro system here, which, unsurprisingly in a town three thousand years deep in history, is running over schedule and keeping the archaeologists fully employed.
The streets seemed rather full of police as the election results appeared; one group stopped me, possibly because I was inadvertently dressed in something close to the uniform of the Communist Party (red shirt, black trousers) and carrying a camera apparently of unusual size, but let me go after asking a few questions and not taking down the answers; presumably I appear particularly innocuous.
I think I'll go off now and take a sunset cruise; they're an absolutely conventional once-around-the-bay kind of thing, but ought to be quite pretty.