Greece gets talked about like a vegan’s dream. Olive oil on everything. Mezze plates piled with things that happen to be plant-based. Mediterranean vegetables as far as the eye can see. And look, there’s some truth to that. But the full picture is messier, especially once you leave the main tourist hubs.
I spent eleven days across Athens, Meteora, Delphi and Santorini. My verdict: three out of five. Greece isn’t difficult, exactly. It’s just uneven. And I’d rather tell you that upfront than let you arrive expecting something it isn’t.
The Route (and Why It Works)
Athens first, three nights. Then a train north to Kalambaka, two nights based at Meteora. On the way back, an afternoon in Delphi. One more night in Athens near the port, then the ferry to Santorini for two nights and a flight home from there.
Flying into Athens and out of Santorini was cheaper than any other combination I found, and the route works logically anyway. You’re moving through the country rather than doubling back. I’d do it in exactly the same order again.
Athens
Athens was the easiest of the three for vegan food, which isn’t a surprise for a capital city. I’ve written a full guide to eating vegan in Athens with all the restaurant specifics, so I’ll skip the list here. Short version: Monastiraki and Psyrri, you’ll find things, some of it’s genuinely good.
What I’ll add is the Philosopher’s Trail, which has nothing to do with veganism and everything to do with why Athens deserves more than two days.
We did a loose version of it across a couple of afternoons. The prison cave on Philopappos Hill, where Socrates allegedly drank the hemlock, is a five-minute walk from the Acropolis and almost nobody is there. Aristotle’s Lyceum is tucked beside the Athens War Museum, easy to walk straight past. (Aristotle taught Alexander the Great there. His students were called the Peripatetics because they learned by walking around and talking. This felt correct.) We also got a taxi out to Plato’s Academy. There’s a park and a plaque. Nothing much else. We stood by that plaque for a few minutes contemplating existence anyway. Worth the taxi fare.
Two more things: the turtles. Walk the path around Philopappos Hill and you’ll find them everywhere, sunning themselves on rocks. I genuinely don’t understand why this doesn’t come up more. Also, Athens has cats. Hundreds of them, roaming between ruins and cafe tables, belonging to no one in particular. This is, objectively, excellent.
Meteora
Meteora looks exactly like its photos. I know that sounds like faint praise, but it isn’t. Most places don’t. These rock formations with sixth-century monasteries sitting on top of them look like someone made them up, and they’re real, and you can hike up and go inside them. We did the hike, went into two of the monasteries, came back with sore legs. No complaints.
Vegan food is another story. I’ve written a full guide to eating vegan in Meteora, but the one-line version is: people often didn’t understand the word, you’ll need patience and some confident pointing, and the hotel breakfast was fruit, black coffee, and a quiet personal reckoning. (It was fine. I’m not made of glass.)
I asked our local guide about the wildlife in the surrounding mountains. Partly curiosity, partly because there were cats everywhere in the village and it made me wonder what else was out there. He mentioned wolves and brown bears in the Pindos Mountains, the range that sits just beyond Meteora. Both genuinely live there. It’s a protected area partly for that reason. You won’t see either on a monastery visit. But knowing they’re in that same mountain range you’re looking at is something.
Delphi
Delphi was a few hours on the way back from Meteora, tacked onto a tour I’d booked without thinking too hard about it. I hadn’t particularly anticipated it. It was stunning. (Fine, I’ll use that word once.)
A mountain valley, eagles overhead, a completely different feel to anywhere else in Greece. If you can add it, do. For vegan food in the village: manage expectations. We got olives and a drink. That was genuinely it. Eat before you arrive or pack something.
Santorini
Santorini is beautiful in a way that feels slightly unreal, and I say that as someone who’d seen the photos enough times to have expected disappointment. The cliffs and the light and the blue domes do actually look like that. I was a bit grudging about admitting it.
Vegan options in Santorini aren’t everywhere. Don’t expect to wander through Oia and stumble across things. It doesn’t work like that. But if you know where to go, there are some genuinely excellent spots. I’ve written a full guide to eating vegan in Santorini. Use it before you arrive.
The Accidentally Vegan Problem
Greek cuisine has genuinely vegan dishes in it. Dolmades, grilled vegetables, certain mezze. These are good. The issue is building a complete meal out of them when the rest of the menu is built around lamb, seafood and feta. At a lot of places, especially outside Athens, you’re assembling side dishes rather than eating something that was made with you in mind.
In Athens and Santorini, there are enough dedicated vegan spots that this doesn’t really matter. In Meteora and Delphi, you’re navigating more carefully. None of this is a reason not to go. It’s just useful to know before you arrive at a village restaurant having skipped lunch, expecting the Mediterranean vegan dream.
Verdict: Three Out of Five
Athens: legitimately good. Meteora: the hardest work of the three. Santorini: not much to stumble across, but genuinely excellent if you know where to look. Delphi: pack a snack.
Greece works well for vegans in its cities and main tourist areas, and noticeably less well once you leave them. That’s not unusual for southern Europe, and it’s not a dealbreaker. Go for the history, the monasteries, the impossible landscape, the cats. Go knowing what you’re walking into food-wise. You’ll be fine.
Read the full guides: Vegan in Athens | Vegan in Meteora | Vegan in Santorini
