In the grand theatre of city improvement, Mayor Kalokairinos stood before the press with his team and promised a transformation. “We’re not aiming for ‘just a little better’,” he declared, armed with that special blend of optimism and exhaustion only found in public office. “We’re here to make Heraklion a clean city—one cleaner than anything this place has ever been before.” The mayor didn’t sugarcoat the present. Waste management lags, expectations keep rising, and staff morale? Lower than a snake’s belly.
No one pretends Heraklion has ever truly been a model of civic hygiene. The mayor’s rhetorical zinger, “Has Heraklion ever been a truly clean city?” landed somewhere between existential crisis and political stand-up comedy. Most locals would love to say yes, but too many know the answer. The reality: past highs and lows have never scratched ‘spotless’.
The city’s approach has weighed heavily on contract workers, with many reaching the limits of their endurance. Street garbage and recycling? Collected at a pace worthy of a Sisyphean myth. The plan is to restore sanity by adding equipment, modernising vehicles, and hiring both permanent and contract cleaners. “We want staff to breathe again,” Kalokairinos explained, though only time will tell if they stop holding their noses.
Inside the So-Called ‘Clean City’ Overhaul
It turns out that turning Heraklion into a clean city means more than just waving a mop around. The city council’s new battle plan splits cleaning duties between public workers and a hired partner, promising better coverage and fewer hiccups.
Current vs Promised Reality:
- Garbage trucks: From 29 to 35, including shiny electric models.
- Recycling collection: Bumping from 6-7 to 9 daily runs, with more bins.
- Street cleaners: From 63 to 208, with extra night shifts all summer—because dirt doesn’t sleep.
- Mega-trash and yard junk: Now, just one crew and two machines. Going forward, expect five new teams, a phone app, and neighbourhood appointments.
- Supervisors: From 14 to 20—herding staff and wrangling bins.
- Sprucing up public spaces, tackling graffiti, and power-washing bins and streets: Teams for every task, some that didn’t even exist before.
The plan calls for heavy-duty reinforcements, including 151 extra workers recruited by partners, 16 additional trucks, and a digital system to schedule cleanup appointments. Think of it as the Uber of trash, if Uber drivers ever carried rakes and hoses. The goal? No block left behind, no overflowing trash can ignored, and no tourist stuck Instagramming a pile of rubbish.
Key Promises at a Glance
- Street cleaning all day, in every borough (double or triple shift downtown).
- Bulky and green waste pickups—no more “surprise” piles on street corners.
- Spruced-up Venetian Walls, seaside roads, markets, and even the city outskirts.
- On-the-fly cleaning for city parks and shared spaces.
- Regular bucket brigadesbucket brigades for bins and streets, every two weeks or sooner, if lucky.
- Graffiti and political poster cleanup—not just a pipe dream.
Will Heraklion Sparkle or Just Shine with Bureaucracy?
The action plan is littered with promises, but anyone who has watched Greek bureaucracy in motion knows that results can stick to plans like gum on a shoe. The city is looking outward, hiring companies (after a €8.5 million international tender), because waiting for new permanent hires through public processes is as speedy as a sunbaked snail.
Tourists wondering about the city’s hygiene shouldn’t worry—at least on paper, Heraklion will see doubled cleaning crews, new machines, scheduled bin-wash marathons, and a war on street clutter. Locals and visitors may finally experience the kind of cleanliness that most European cities boast about. Only this time, officials swear it’ll stick.
As the mayor put it, “Now is the time to make a real leap. We owe it to our citizens, to our staff, and to ourselves.” The city’s cleaning dream seems ambitious, maybe even heroic. But as everyone on Crete knows, heroics are nothing without a bit of luck, a lot of patience, and—above all—a sense of humour when that first power-washed bin breaks down.
