Today, the Roman baths in Pythagorio cannot be entered. The archaeological site is surrounded by a fence and has no public opening hours. Interestingly, this is not a situation that has developed only in the last few seasons – the baths have been inaccessible to visitors for many years.
I have not been able to find any official information giving one specific date and one single reason for their closure. We do know, however, that the baths were already closed in 2015, even during the summer season. A local publication, referring to a conversation with the then head of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Samos, identified a shortage of staff and funding needed to operate and maintain archaeological sites as part of the problem.
In subsequent official listings, the baths continued to be shown as closed. That remains the case today – the site has no active visiting hours.
This does not mean, however, that the baths have been forgotten. In 2026, the Greek Ministry of Culture announced a new plan for the archaeological sites of Pythagorio, with the Roman baths included among five sites given priority.
And this is where the story becomes particularly interesting. After years of seeing the baths only from behind the fence, there is now a chance that the situation may change.
Yes – definitely. The site is closed, but it lies right beside the road, and a large part of the ruins can be seen through the fence.
Importantly, these are not just a few isolated stones barely protruding from the ground. The walls and remains of individual rooms are preserved well enough for you to appreciate the scale and layout of the complex even from behind the fence.
There is a chance. The Greek Ministry of Culture has announced a plan to protect the archaeological sites of Pythagorio.
The plan includes further work to clean and conserve the site and organise the scattered architectural remains. From a visitor’s perspective, however, the most important proposal is the creation of safe visitor routes, together with information panels and safety lighting.
And that is not all. A later stage is expected to include studies needed to connect the baths with the remains of the ancient gymnasium and other athletic facilities. Ultimately, they are intended to become part of a larger network of archaeological sites in Pythagorio.
No reopening date for the baths has yet been announced. The fact that the Ministry is planning visitor routes is, however, very promising. After many years of viewing the ruins only from behind the fence, there is now a concrete plan that may eventually allow visitors to step inside.
👉 Important information: On 8 September 2026, the Greek Ministry of Culture announced a new plan for the protection and public presentation of the archaeological sites of Pythagorio. The Roman baths were among five sites given priority. The plan includes conservation work, improvements to the site, the creation of safe visitor routes and the installation of information panels.
🔗 Source: Ministry of Culture, 8 September 2026
Just beside the road leading from Pythagorio towards Potokaki, behind a metal fence, lie ruins that are easy to pass without giving them much thought. The archaeological site is closed, and there is little to suggest that beyond the fence are the remains of one of the most fascinating complexes of ancient Samos. These are the Roman baths – a place that was bustling with life almost two thousand years ago.
Looking from the road, it is difficult to realise just how important the site on the other side of the fence once was. These are the Roman baths of ancient Samos, built in the second half of the 2nd century AD, west of present-day Pythagorio.
This was not simply an ordinary public bathhouse. The baths formed part of an extensive athletic complex with a gymnasium, palaestra and stadium, covering approximately 35,000 m².
The baths themselves were impressive. The cold-bathing area contained a distinctive octagonal pool measuring around 9.5 metres across, while heated rooms were located on the opposite side. Beneath the octagonal pool, archaeologists discovered the remains of an even earlier rectangular basin.
The history of this site, however, began much earlier. Long before the Roman baths appeared, this part of ancient Samos had been associated with sport for centuries.
Long before the Roman baths were built, this part of ancient Samos had been associated with sport and public life. During the Hellenistic period, an enormous gymnasium stood here – not simply a place for exercise, but a complex where young men trained, met and received their education. Beside it was a palaestra, used primarily for wrestling, as well as a stadium with a running track.
The scale of the complex was impressive. According to a reconstruction by archaeologist Wolfram Martini, the gymnasium may have occupied an area measuring approximately 110 × 255 metres. Not every detail of its layout has been confirmed, but we know that it was an extensive athletic complex.
Interestingly, the Greeks were already combining exercise with bathing. The gymnasium included a loutron – a place where athletes could wash after physical activity. In a sense, therefore, the Romans expanded something that already existed here, creating a much more elaborate bathing complex.
An excellent trace of this continuity can be found in roof tiles discovered by archaeologists. Many of them bear the inscription ΓΥΜΝΑΣΙΟΥ – “of the gymnasium”. They date from the period when the Roman baths were in use, showing that even then the entire complex continued to be associated with the gymnasium.
Greek sport and Roman bathing were therefore not two separate stories. One grew out of the other.
In the second half of the 2nd century AD, monumental Roman baths were added to the Greek athletic complex. They did not make use of natural hot springs – the water had to be brought in, stored and heated.
The complex was divided into areas with different temperatures. In the northern section were rooms intended for cold bathing and the octagonal pool, while the heated rooms were located to the south. There were also changing rooms, water tanks and technical areas.
One of the greatest achievements of Roman engineering was the hypocaust – a system in which hot air from furnaces circulated beneath a raised floor, heating the entire room. The complex also included a small vaulted laconicum or sudatorium, designed for intense heat and sweating.
The baths, however, were not simply about keeping clean. They were places to relax, socialise and spend leisure time.
What did a visit to the baths actually look like? Did the Romans bathe naked? And why did they need oil and a metal tool resembling a curved spoon?
Imagine an inhabitant of Samos arriving at the baths around 1,800 years ago. This was not somewhere you dropped in for ten minutes just to wash. A visit to the baths could be combined with exercise, relaxation and meeting other people.
First, you had to leave your clothes in the apodyterium, or changing room. And this already presented a very modern problem – how could you make sure your belongings would still be there after your bath? Theft at public baths was a well-known problem, so clothes could be entrusted to attendants or slaves known as capsarii. A wealthy visitor might bring his own slave to guard his belongings.
There was no single compulsory order in which the baths had to be used, but visitors moved between rooms of different temperatures. The tepidarium was pleasantly warm, the caldarium hot, while the laconicum or sudatorium was used for intense heat and sweating. The frigidarium, with its cold water, provided a chance to cool down.
And what about soap? The body was rubbed with olive oil, and then sweat, dirt and oil were scraped away with a strigil – a curved tool made from materials such as bronze, iron or bone. A wealthy visitor might be assisted by a slave or masseur. After bathing, the body could be rubbed with oil again, sometimes with scented oils.
The afternoon was a popular time to visit the baths, often after exercise and before the main meal. There was no need to rush – a visit could take up a substantial part of a free afternoon.
And it was a long way from the tranquillity of a modern spa. Seneca, who lived above a bathhouse, complained about the sounds of people exercising, masseurs, bathers splashing in the water and vendors loudly advertising their goods. Roman baths were filled with conversation, shouting, movement and noise.
So let us try to look at the ruins in Pythagorio differently. Instead of silence – conversations and voices calling out. Instead of empty walls – people moving between heated rooms. Instead of dry stone – pools filled with water.
The baths were a place to wash, but they were also one of the places where the everyday life of the city unfolded.
The term “Roman baths” might suggest that they were used primarily by Romans. That was not the case. In the 2nd century AD, Samos belonged to the Roman world, but its inhabitants remained Greek. The baths were part of their city, and the local population used them as well.
Nor was bathing an activity reserved exclusively for the wealthy. Public baths were intended to be accessible to a broad section of the population, and the admission fee could be very small. Roman sources mention the quadrans – one quarter of an as, one of the smallest coins in circulation. Sometimes a wealthy benefactor would even pay for free admission for local residents. We do not know, however, how much it cost to use the baths on Samos specifically.
Rich and poor could therefore meet in the same complex, although they experienced it differently. A wealthy resident might arrive with slaves who carried his belongings, guarded his clothes and assisted him with bathing or massage. A poorer visitor managed on his own. The baths brought different social classes together, but they did not erase the differences between them.
And women? They also used public baths. Sometimes separate sections were provided for them, while elsewhere women and men used the same rooms at different times. There is also evidence of mixed bathing. In the 2nd century AD – roughly the period when the baths on Samos were built – Emperor Hadrian ordered the sexes to bathe separately. We do not know what rules applied in Pythagorio.
Interestingly, enslaved people did not appear at the baths only as servants. They could also use public bathhouses themselves. The baths were therefore one of those places in a Roman city where people of very different social status could encounter one another.
This did not mean complete equality. Wealth was still visible in the number of servants someone brought, in massages, perfumes or the quality of the oil they used. But access to public baths itself was not a luxury reserved exclusively for the elite.
The baths required enormous quantities of water. Samos already had the famous Aqueduct of Eupalinos, which had carried water from the Agiades spring since the 6th century BC, but by Roman times its capacity was no longer sufficient for the growing city.
Probably during the reign of Emperor Hadrian in the 2nd century AD, another aqueduct was built to bring water from the area around Myloi, approximately 15 kilometres away. It is an interesting paradox – Samos already possessed one of the most famous water supply systems of the ancient world, yet the Roman city needed another one.
The water did not arrive at the baths hot. It was heated on site, while praefurnia, or furnaces, in the service areas also supplied hot air to the hypocaust system. The air circulated beneath floors raised on small brick pillars and through channels in the walls, heating the rooms.
Behind the pleasure of bathing, therefore, lay an enormous amount of work. Fuel had to be supplied, furnaces tended, temperatures controlled and a constant supply of water maintained. The larger and more luxurious the baths, the more extensive the infrastructure and labour required to keep them running.
The stone ruins we see today bear little resemblance to the interiors of the baths in the 2nd century AD. During excavations of one of the heated rooms, archaeologists discovered traces of truly luxurious decoration.
The floor and lower sections of the walls were covered with white marble, while higher up were slabs of dark stone with distinctive veining. Even more impressive was the vault, decorated with a colourful glass mosaic. One surviving fragment shows the almost life-size face of a winged figure – perhaps the personification of one of the seasons.
Above the niches ran a marble band bearing an inscription. Interestingly, the slabs had lettering on both sides – during renovations to the room at the end of the 3rd century, they were reused and the earlier inscription was replaced with a new one. The room probably also had a window facing the sea.
The luxury was meant to be seen. Public bathing took place amid marble, colourful mosaics, water and light – decoration that most inhabitants could never have afforded in their own homes.
Very little of this has survived. In later centuries, the marble cladding was removed, and some of the stone even ended up in a lime kiln.
When the Roman baths ceased to serve their original purpose, this did not mark the end of the site’s history. As Christianity spread, ancient buildings were given new functions, while their walls, columns and marble became a convenient source of building material.
This also happened in Pythagorio. In the second half of the 5th century, a three-aisled basilica with additional rooms was built in the northern part of the former baths. A small vaulted room that had previously served as a laconicum or sudatorium – a place for intense heat and sweating – was converted into a baptistery. Where people had once bathed their bodies, baptism was now performed.
Ancient buildings were not regarded as monuments in the way they are today – structures to be preserved in their original form. When they were no longer needed, they were dismantled or rebuilt, and valuable materials were reused. A column, marble slab or well-cut stone block was simply too valuable to justify quarrying and transporting a new one to the city.
At the baths on Samos, we have particularly strong evidence of this practice. Archaeologists discovered that the marble decoration of the frigidarium had been removed and the marble was being converted into lime. One of the former niches of the baths was even turned into a lime kiln. Research indicates that a small religious community lived here in the 6th century; millstones and fragments of more than 200 storage amphorae were also discovered.
The changes continued. In the 7th century, one of the rooms of the former complex was converted into a burial crypt.
Over the course of several centuries, therefore, the site changed its purpose almost completely: from an athletic complex and Roman baths, it became a place of Christian worship, baptism and the everyday life of a religious community, and later also a place of burial.
And some of the marble that had once displayed the luxury of the baths ended up in a kiln as raw material for making lime.
The ruins in this part of ancient Samos were never completely forgotten. As early as the 18th century, the traveller Richard Pococke sketched the remains of buildings visible here, although he could not yet have known how complex a history lay beneath the ground.
The true exploration of the complex began much later, during systematic excavations carried out by the German Archaeological Institute. Between 1969 and 1979, the German archaeologist Wolfram Martini took part in the research and directed the excavations of the Roman baths. With each season, more pools, hypocausts, rooms, fragments of decoration and remains of later Christian buildings were uncovered.
One of the most interesting discoveries helped archaeologists understand that the baths could not be treated as an isolated building. Around two-thirds of the stamped roof tiles that were found bore the inscription ΓΥΜΝΑΣΙΟΥ – “of the gymnasium”. Archaeologists therefore began to see the ruins as part of a much larger athletic complex whose history stretched back to Greek times.
Martini later brought together the results of many years of research in his extensive study Das Gymnasium von Samos, published in 1984. It is thanks to these excavations that today we can understand the ruins behind the fence not as random fragments of walls, but as the remains of a place that over the centuries evolved from a Greek athletic complex into Roman baths and later into a space used by a Christian community.