My Viking Ancient Mediterranean Treasures itinerary had been locked in for months. My trip, a tidy plan set for departure in thirty days, felt airtight, with every detail lined up from Türkiye to Greece, until one yoga class changed everything.
In the middle of my class, a woman I had never met leaned over during downward dog and said, “I heard you talking about your upcoming trip. You have to go to Cappadocia.” I honestly thought she said, “You want to grab a cappuccino,” and I couldn’t figure out why a stranger randomly wanted to have coffee with me. After a quick laugh and some clarification, she explained she was talking about a place in central Türkiye, not a drink. That short conversation took the itinerary I had perfected and flipped it on its head.
After two flights and very little sleep, I landed in Istanbul and boarded one last short hop east. By the time I reached the airport in central Türkiye, I had been traveling close to 30 hours. My first cultural surprise came right away as I dashed to the restroom. My stall had a bar on each side and a hole in the floor. No instructions. A quick “figure it out” moment that told me I was far from home.
The drive toward the Cappadocia region started out looking like any four-lane highway. Regular pavement. Gas stations. Nothing that hinted at what was coming. Then, as we approached the region, everything changed. The sky was dark, lit only by a few scattered lights casting a warm gold over the mountainous range. The streets narrowed and began to wind uphill. Every structure looked carved from stone and built directly into the landscape. No traditional buildings. Just towers and formations rising from the landscape in shapes my eyes had never seen. I felt like I was entering a world where daily life existed inside rock formations. Horses and donkeys moved along the streets, their hooves hitting the stone pavement in a steady, methodical rhythm. A natural soundtrack that needed no music producer.
In that moment, I realized my mysterious yoga classmate was right. This was a true namaste moment.
Cappadocia: Living Inside the Landscape
Checking into Argos, my hotel in Cappadocia, was like stepping even deeper into this dreamlike terrain. The entire property is carved into the rock. You don’t move between buildings here. You move through the rock. I felt like I was channeling my inner Fred Flintstone memories from childhood.
When I looked out my window, on the first morning of my stay, Cappadocia revealed itself in full daylight. A valley washed in golden tan with stone spires, called fairy chimneys, rising in all directions. The fairy chimneys give the area its signature skyline making the whole region feel sculpted rather than built. I spent the day exploring the Göreme Open-Air Museum, with its cave churches carved by early Christians and the Derinkuyu Underground City where entire communities in exile once lived beneath the surface.
At 4:45 a.m. the next morning, I joined one of Cappadocia’s signature hot air balloon flights. Every morning, weather permitting, 150 hot air balloons lift into the sky. Whether you watch from the ground or float among them as I did, it’s a sight to see, and one I will remember for a lifetime. Once we lifted off, the sun rose slowly, lighting the landscape in a soft glow as the entire valley opened beneath us, with the fairy chimneys, the carved hillsides, and the rock formations stretching in every direction.
Istanbul: A Day in the Heart of the City and a Hammam I Won’t Forget
The Viking Star was in port in the heart of the city, making it very convenient to get to the sites first-time visitors like myself want to see. I visited the Blue Mosque, taking a moment to admire the thousands of hand-painted tiles that define the space, sampled Turkish teas, and ate lokum, the country’s signature sweet rolled in more flavors than I could count.
But what I will remember most from Istanbul was the hammam.
I visited Cağaloğlu Hamam, built in 1741 and still operating in a 300-year-old historic setting. The first thing you see when you enter the hammam is a wall covered with photos of well-known visitors including Harrison Ford, Oprah Winfrey, John Travolta, and Cameron Diaz. A surprising lineup for a bathhouse, but clearly I was in good company.
The hammam experience was about to begin. I was handed a small towel called a peştemal, wooden sandals, and a key, then led to a dimly lit, well-appointed private room to change. With uncomfortable and anxious anticipation, I waited for my tellak (the attendant who handles the bath ritual) to arrive until a knock broke the silence. I opened the door to greet my tellak. He was hairier than a house pet. He looked me over with the expression of a man who had seen every version of first-timer panic, and I was landing somewhere between mild concern and flight risk.
He motioned for me to follow. No talk. No explanation.
He walked me into the heated marble chamber and pointed me toward the sauna to start sweating. Little did he know I had already broken into a nervous sweat. On the way, I passed naked men lying face-down on warm slabs while their tellaks worked them over. This was not a setting for timid or modest men.
When it was my turn, he tapped the marble slab. I lay down. Warm water came first. Then the scrubbing began. He worked that mitt like he was removing layers of wallpaper that needed to come off one way or another. At one point, he lifted me like a Costco rotisserie chicken. I tried to reposition myself but I had no say in what was coming next. He flipped me, rolled me over, and patted me back down like a holiday cookie getting rolled out for baking.
Then came the cold water. A full bowl. Direct hit. No warning. I am fairly certain something inside me tried to tap out more than once. More bubbles. More water. More scrubbing. He reached spots I did not know required attention, let alone professional intervention. I walked out having shed layers of skin I may not have been prepared to part with.
Walking out into the Istanbul night and making my way back to the Viking Star, one thought came to mind: WTF just happened? And the second: I would absolutely hit repeat for another round on the mat.
Athens: The Acropolis and the View From the Top
By the time I reached Athens, I had settled into the rhythm of the trip. Days spent exploring, evenings back on the Viking Star. To begin my day in Athens, I joined Viking’s included panoramic city excursion to see the highlights and get my bearings. Everything on the tour leads to one place.
I had pre-purchased my entry ticket, which let me bypass the line at the gate. I strongly recommend doing this. The walk through the Acropolis to the Parthenon is manageable, with plenty of history to take in as you make your way to the top. But reaching the summit, and seeing the Parthenon in full view, was a holy crap moment. No previously viewed photos prepare you for that wow moment.
After leaving the Acropolis, I wandered through the Plaka District and purchased a blue eye charm. It is on nearly everything in Athens, and locals say it brings good luck or keeps the bad stuff away. It felt like the right thing to bring home on a day filled with good fortune.
After returning to the Viking Star in the evening, I settled into a routine I had come to appreciate. The ship offered entertainment that often reflected the region, including local performers and cultural talks that connected the day’s experiences to what was ahead. Dinner followed the same plan. A traditional locally sourced Greek dinner of grilled fish, lemon, olive oil, and fresh vegetables, similar to what you would find in a neighborhood taverna. It was an excellent way to end a full day in Athens, linking the onboard experience with what I had explored ashore.
This trip reminded me that even the most well-laid plans need space for the unexpected. Changing my schedule led me to Cappadocia, which became one of the true highlights of my journey with Viking. Being flexible transformed what was meant to be a great trip into something even better, reshaping the journey from Türkiye to Greece in all the right ways.