Having just lost my father, a history buff and cultural Catholic, two weeks before this journey, I pause to reflect on how much he would have enjoyed the site.

Below, a footpath leads to a wishing wall layered with countless prayers. Pilgrims gather at the spring, blessing themselves, whispering intentions, letting their tears fall freely.

In this stillness, I can imagine Mary herself — robed in blue, her veil stirring in the breeze — walking the forest paths, spending her last days in quiet grace.

Most remarkably, the shrine is located not in Jerusalem or Nazareth but in Turkey, just inland from the Aegean coast. It is an important reminder of the enduring legacy of ancient Christian, Greek, and Roman societies in this region.

Ephesus, near the House of the Virgin Mary, dates back to the 10th century BC and was once one of the grandest cities of the ancient world.

John Gurel, our garrulous tour guide from Turkey who scolds me for asking too many questions, leads us through the vast ruins of temples, baths, labyrinthine streets, intricately decorated facades, marble fountains, statues, mosaics, and frescoes.

It’s easy to picture the ancients in linen tunics promenading under the marble porticos of the Arcadian Way. The famous Library of Celsus, with its carefully reconstructed two-story façade, once held more than 12,000 scrolls. Gurel tells us that one of the liveliest parts of the city was the Agora, or market, where people haggled over olive oil and dried fish in covered shops, and artisans repaired broken vessels and chipped pottery. 

A massive U-shaped Stadium, known as the Hippodrome, impresses, capable of holding 30,000 spectators for gladiatorial fights and chariot races. The amphitheatre, begun by the Greeks and improved by the Romans, still stands, and gladiators’ graves have been discovered nearby.

The ship offers many unexpected pleasures: Edvard Munch paintings on loan from a Norwegian museum, lichen gardens tucked beneath stairwells, wallpaper that mimics a knitting pattern, birdsong in the bathrooms, and Norwegian Freyja skincare products. The Nordic spa on deck one is especially enticing. The bathing ritual alternates between hot (sauna, steam room, or pool) and cold (snow grotto and cold plunge). I stand in the snow for as long as I can before submitting to a bucket of frigid water being dumped on my head, then dash back to the steam room, feeling as brave as a Roman gladiator.

I swap stories with other bathers, many of whom are repeat Viking guests. They praise the line’s consistency: every ocean vessel is laid out the same way, with heated bathroom floors and verandas in the cabins. Each ship offers the same spa and restaurants — World Café with a sushi bar, Manfredi’s Trattoria with bistecca alla Fiorentina and homemade pasta, Mansen’s, a casual deli named for Viking founder and Chairman Torstein Hagen’s mother, that serves open-faced sandwiches and waffles, and the Chef’s Table, featuring a five-course tasting menu with wine pairing. (Although Viking Cruises went public in 2024, Torstein and his daughter still own more than half the shares, and he remains CEO.)

A conversation between a guest and a couple who have been onboard for 17 days captures the mood perfectly. “Do you ever get bored?” the woman asks the couple. “Oh no,” they reply. “We get off every day, and we just love it. We don’t just sit in our rooms. We have so many different experiences.”