The first edition had just ended and I had barely caught my breath before I was already in "ok, now the next one" mode. The week in between came with anxiety about logistics: who travels with whom, in which cars, how we split up. The kind of things that seem small but, when you're the only organiser, grow in proportion to your tiredness. By the eve of departure everything was sorted, and the anxiety left exactly the way it had come: suddenly.
The first evening
We arrived, the girls picked their rooms and I left them to unwind while I cooked dinner. The menu was vegan — something everyone had been told in advance, but which, at the first sight of a bowl of pasta, takes, let's say, some processing. I cooked in peace.
By the end, I had won them over with my pasta recipe. They liked it so much they asked me for it. Mission accomplished.
After dinner I brought out Hues and Cues and we laughed. A lot. And then some more. The group was mostly made up of girls who already knew each other — partners in suffering from the gym where I teach, people who see each other two or three times a week at my classes. One girl came from a different gym, but I teach there too, so what they all had in common were my classes. I don't know if that mattered or if the chemistry simply worked, but from the very first evening the group felt like a group of old friends.
Saturday
Morning: Hatha-Vinyasa. We worked, we sweated, we reached Shavasana. And then it started to rain. Not an annoying rain — a slow, quiet drizzle, just enough to make everything more cinematic. It was gorgeous.
The SUP activity on the lake (stand up paddle) was included in the retreat, in collaboration with Maria from Supbiz. I had paddleboarded on the Bega before and knew it would be beautiful — that's why I chose it. I had seen Lake Gozna from the shore, from the pontoon, and imagined what it would be like. And still, when I actually got onto the water, the beauty of the view took me completely by surprise. A rare case of something looking better up close than from afar. Or, well, something like that.
The girls were nervous. I told them what I've learned from all my SUP sessions: you don't fall in the water unless you try to stand up. As long as you stay low, sitting in meditation or kneeling on the board, you're fine. And, between us, if you have to fall somewhere, better into the Gozna than into the Bega.
After burning calories on the lake, we went to Gasthof Tirol. The menu changes weekly, so there's something different on the table every time. And every time it was excellent.
The circle that became a hora
On the second morning we did Acro Yoga. At one point we formed a circle, holding hands. I said let's make it bigger.
The girls started to spin.
I can't tell you exactly how it happened, but at some point we were no longer doing Acro Yoga — we were dancing a hora, our traditional round dance. We danced. We laughed. And then we calmly returned to the exercises as if nothing had happened. This moment wasn't in the programme — it couldn't have been. But it became the first thing I think of when I think of this retreat.
I organised everything by myself and I didn't relax as much as the girls did, that's true. But standing there, watching them enjoy themselves, laugh, dance a hora nobody had planned, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.
What's next
The first retreat, a few weeks earlier, had been just as energising and just as much its own thing. A different dynamic, different unplanned moments, the same feeling at the end. A retreat never repeats itself identically, no matter how much you'd like to reproduce it. It shapes itself around the people who come, around what they bring with them, around the circle they form, around the hora nobody plans.
Part of what changes comes from the feedback of the people who were there. I listen to what worked, what was missing, what they would have added — and it shows up at the next edition. That's how I decided that next time I'll add an evening Yin yoga session, before bedtime. I had only planned the morning sessions, but a slow, restorative session at the end of the day would fit the rhythm of the experience perfectly.