If you’ve spent any time in northern Greece, you’ve probably traveled on the Egnatia Motorway. Officially the A2, it traces the route of the ancient Via Egnatia—a road that carried merchants, armies, and pilgrims across the region for centuries, from the Roman Empire to the Ottomans.
Locals simply call it Η Εγνατία—the Egnatia. And it will take you from the port of Igoumenitsa on the west coast, to the Turkish border in the east, in around seven hours.

Its full stretch as a motorway was completed in the late 2000s, cutting through the rugged Pindus Mountains in Epirus.
It changed everything. Journeys that once meant long, winding hours in the mountains—sometimes most of a day—were suddenly reduced to a smooth three-and-a-half-hour drive.

I”ve personally experienced the difference. I drove through the Pindus Mountains in the 1990s, when crossing them still meant committing to a full day on winding mountain roads.
It was dizzying—endless turns, constant braking and accelerating. We had to stop often, just to settle the motion sickness. The views were already breathtaking, but you couldn’t look at them for too long without regretting it.

Today, it’s the opposite. A few comfortable hours, and all you can do is look around.

The eastern part of the Egnatia offers easy access to some of the most interesting regions of Greece—central Macedonia, the northern coast and Thrace.
But it’s the stretch through the Pindus Mountains that fascinates me the most. Not just for the dramatic scenery, but for the endless bridges and tunnels that carry you smoothly through what would otherwise be a rugged and inaccessible landscape.

My favorite stops not far off the motorway are Metsovo and Ioannina.

Metsovo

Some years ago, while driving toward the west coast, we were told we should stop in Metsovo. I assumed it was just another motorway rest stop, but as we soon discovered after exiting, that wasn’t the case at all.
The road climbed up into the mountains—one of those old, winding routes I remembered from before. But it was a short drive, and suddenly we found ourselves in a different world.
A beautiful mountain village perch ed on a hillside, with narrow streets and small, tucked-away shops and restaurants. The architecture was rich in wood, almost reminding me of Austria.

It was a side of Greece I had never experienced before. Different architecture, and even in the middle of the day, it felt cool enough that sweaters were needed. The narrow, hilly streets almost felt like something out of a theme park.
I also noticed something else. A language I didn’t recognize, spoken between locals. At first, it sounded like Greek—but the words were completely different.
As it turns out, Metsovo is one of the main centers of Aromanian (Vlach) culture. Aromanian is a Romance language, related to Latin and similar in some ways to Romanian.

Interestingly, you’ll also notice many cars with Romanian license plates in Metsovo. Romanian tourists and Aromanian-speaking locals can understand each other surprisingly well.

Ioannina

Fifteen years before I ever visited Ioannina, I saw it from afar—and it left an impression.
We were driving along the old mountain road at dusk, looking down at the city from the north. It felt almost unreal. Against a backdrop of dark mountains, the city spread out in a sea of lights. From its center, a peninsula with a medieval fortress stretched into the lake—and further out, an island sat quietly in the water. The reflections made it all feel like something out of a fairytale.

Ioannina has a rich and complex history. It was once ruled by Ali Pasha of Ioannina—often called the Lion of Ioannina—a Greek-Albanian ruler under the Ottomans. A controversial figure: a capable administrator, but also known for his brutality. He eventually turned against the Ottoman Empire, and was killed for it.

Traces of that past are still visible today, in the remains of mosques and Ottoman architecture scattered around the city. The old town, the fortress, and the lakeside are all worth exploring.

If you have a bit more time, drive around to the other side of the lake and visit the Cave of Perama. The tour takes less than an hour and leads deep underground, through chambers filled with stalactites and stalagmites.

Driving the Egnatia today is effortless. You cross mountains, pass through regions, and cover distances that once took days in just a few hours.
But every now and then, if you take a turn off the motorway, slow down, or simply look around, you get a glimpse of what this route has always been—a road connecting places, cultures, and people for thousands of years.
Some journeys never really change. Only the speed at which we travel them.