Greek Square was born in the dust and heat of a young city, mapped by the hands of Franz de Volán.
He saw Odesa as the architects of Rome had once seen their city, with the heart of life beating around market squares. One of these hearts was Greek Square. It wasn't alone. Starobazarna (aka Free Market) and Khersonska (aka New Market) kept it company, each square a promise of the city's future.
In those days, Greek Square wasn't just a place on a map. It was a point of passage. Traffic rose from the port on Havanna Street, cut across Derybasivs'ka like a river through rock, and flowed toward Oleksandrivs'kyi Avenue. From there, it spilled into Starobazarna Square. Merchants knew it well. They brought their goods to the arcades, buildings divided into 25 sections, all two stories high. The porticos and stone colonnades gave the place a sense of permanence, a solidity that would stand the test of time.
The Greeks came early. Families like Ioannopulo, Papahadzhi and the Ralli clan set up shop here, joined later by the famous Grigorios Maraslis. These were men who knew the value of trade, who understood that markets weren't just about money—they were about connection. They built homes and businesses. They built the future.
As time passed, others added their touch. The house at Derybasivs'ka 27 and Mayurov's Round House stood as landmarks, holding their ground as the city around them grew. In the early days, Greek Square was the main market. Before Pryvoz took over, this was where you'd come for fruit sweet enough to make you forget the heat, wine from lands far beyond the horizon, and everything else a man might need. Pushkin walked these streets, his heavy cane tapping a rhythm as he watched the customers and the world pass by.
"The market was noisy on Greek Square,
Sunsets burned over the city,
Coffee-shops steamed, and Pushkin watched
The fresh glaucous sea".
The bazaar thrived, but time is a cruel master. Eventually, the square lost its crown. Starokinnyy & Pryvoz took its place. Horse-drawn railway stations were built, the forefathers of the city's trams. The Belgians came and laid their tracks. The city moved forward and Greek Square became just another stop in the Soviet's vast network of transport.
They renamed it Martynovskyy Square in those years. It was a place where buses came and went, where people waited for their rides. The square that had once been the heart of trade was now a hub of transit. But names don't last forever, and in time, they gave it back its old name: Greek Square. A parade entrance to Derybasivs'ka, restored to a shadow of its former glory. Today, events are held here. People gather. They rest. They remember.
The Round House, rebuilt as a mall and renamed Athena, stands tall again, watching over the square like it always has. The book market, once a staple of the place, is gone now. It moved up to Oleksandrivs'kyi Avenue. Things change. They always do.
Backsides of Velyka Moskovs'ka and the House of Torricelli face the fountain on the square. (© Photo by Nataliia Benet)
But why Greek? The answer is simple. Greeks lived here. In 1804, the square began to take shape, and the Greeks—Ioannopulo, Papakhadzhi, Ralli, Maraslis—were the ones who built it. They brought with them not just their trade, but their history. In 1814, the Filiki Eteria, a secret society fighting for their independence, opened its doors in one of the houses on the square. It's a story that runs deep in these streets. There's a museum now, not far from the square (www.hfcodessa.org), where you can learn about that fight.
Marazli statue on Greek Square (Photo by Jeffree Benet)
In 2016, they erected a monument to Grigory Marazli (Maraslis). It wasn't the first. The original monument had stood on the square once, before being moved to Marazliivska. It's fitting, in a way. Things here have always moved. Always shifted.
There's more to the square than trade and monuments, though. Once, this was the site of a Muslim cemetery. Long before Odesa became a city, when Khadzhibey was little more than a settlement, cemetery stood here. The mounds were high, the graves old. They leveled the ground, built over it. Progress comes with a price.
In the end, Greek Square became what all squares become; a place for people. It was never just about the markets or the traders. It was about the life that pulsed through it. The horses, then the trams, then the buses. The vendors calling out their prices, the customers haggling for a better deal. The quiet moments, when the sun set over the sea, you can still feel Pushkin standing with his cane, watching it all unfold.
Greek Square has seen the rise of markets, the fall of empires and the endless tide of people. And through it all, it's endured. It's changed, but it's still there, a testament to the city's resilience. Even when the buildings fell, even when the names changed, the square stood. And it stands still, a piece of history nestled in the heart of a city that never stops moving.
Cat Vasya, who lived in a tree
All that remains of the beloved Vasya is this photo of his home.
Above was the home of a cat in Greek Square. He lived in the tree, never coming down, through all the years. It was the 90s. They said a dog chased him up there, or maybe he feared cars. Either way, he stayed. The cat was gray, the most ordinary of cats. At first, they tossed him sausages. He'd catch them with his paws, eating them in the branches.
One winter, someone built him a house, a small wooden thing with "CAT VASYA" lettered on it. He lived there, and the city talked about him. Tourists came, too, asking to see Vasya, the cat in the tree. When they started rebuilding the square, Vasya was gone. Now, there's no house nor tree left. People said the famous cat had been on television once, but no one could find the footage. Like the cat, the video has disappeared.
