Returning to myself on a wellness retreat at New Life Portugal
Kit Griffiths reviews an all-embracing wellness retreat near Gouveia, Portugal, where she plots to kidnap the masseuse, expels past trauma and builds herself back up
On the gold and green Folgosinho hillside, New Life Portugal has been built using the stone of a previously ruined village on the same site. A year into development, it was taken by the wildfires of 2018. Now completely rebuilt, young olive trees are growing for homemade oil. This intentional recovery from ruin, and resilience in spite of disaster, begins with the buildings and the land, and propagates through the programmes and people. When I say people, I mean all of the people who join this community, however long their stay.
On the shuttle from the airport I was one of three guests, and by the time we reached our halfway pitstop, one of us was smoking and drinking espresso while crying, one of us was downing post-flight echinacea and paracetamol, and one of us was beaming ear-to-ear apparently high on fresh air. I could have been any of the three! I’m an artist and poet. I spend my life confronting myself, and this retreat was my next opportunity to try something different, reach for more peace, and hopefully return to my girlfriend professing I’m finally interested in yoga.
On arrival we were given a friendly welcome, room keys, schedules, and hand-addressed envelopes to open alone in our rooms. I’d flicked the kettle on in the kitchenette, opened the French doors, taken in the view, the breeze of the valley, my whole room - high ceilings, spacious, warm wood, sage curtains, soft white sheets, good mattress, lovely en-suite, when I finally picked up that envelope. I won’t quote the letter to you - it works as a whole - but the words of welcome, understanding and thanks were simple yet profound, and settled in my chest. Then I thought: ‘Wait, have I come to rehab?’
“I’ve never so clearly and deeply felt trauma leaving my body - luckily I’d been taught how to breathe by then, so I was able to breathe through the pain and reap the ecstasy beyond”
My first experience of the larger community was dinner: a sun-filled room with tables for four, warm smiles and a few hellos, with the food - a profusion of colours and textures, fresh and homely aromas – served on a central buffet. Everything rotates every day, so salads might be avocado, tomatoes, green leaves, seeds, nuts and touches of fruit, then there’s oils, dressings, local cheeses, fruit basket, jams, pickles and dips (turns out a homemade aubergine dip can utterly transform chickpeas). Heated mains include seared steak, veggie lasagne, vegan pizza, and plentiful hot sides of vegetables, pulses, pasta, rice and soup, including beetroot, lentil and chicken.
All dishes were homemade, with mostly local or homegrown ingredients from the gardens, and my first spiritual experience of the week was the local Serra da Estrela cheese. I don’t even eat cheese anymore, but it had the texture of a beautiful Taleggio, and next to the homemade butter, with honey and fresh crusty bread steaming on a far wooden counter, I literally physically could not resist. Every single day.
A typical day for me was to rise at 6.40am to make 7am meditation, sitting on a cushion with my knees bent on the squishiest yoga mat imaginable, in the Contemplative Hall. One morning the valley below filled with clouds so it felt like we were meditating in heaven. Our teacher’s voice was so relaxing that sometimes I fell back asleep, which was apparently fine although we were encouraged to stay awake.
After enjoying breakfast in Noble Silence, came the morning meeting at 8.30. On my first morning one of the most Zen-looking guests shared: ‘Earlier I sat in meditation thinking ‘What the hell is the point?’ A new arrival shared their reason for coming: ‘I just thought it’d be better than going somewhere to get f*cked for a week.’ Encouraged, regular honesty would feed and relieve the group.
Throughout the day we had playful yoga and variously guided meditations, plus workshops in mindfulness, journaling and photography - everything take-or-leave-it as you wish. When I got angry with my body, our yoga teacher managed to make me laugh, breathe through it and get back to playing. There was something gained from everything I showed up to, and equally there was empowerment in choosing to stay by the pool, take a sauna, noting there was no reaction to my doing so.
My massage with Sue came too late in the week: by the time I experienced her talent, she was fully-booked all weekend. I’ve never so clearly and deeply felt trauma leaving my body - luckily I’d been taught how to breathe by then, so I was able to breathe through the pain and reap the ecstasy beyond. Every single one of us rhapsodised on Sue.
The consistent buzz around the coffee machine (followed by tête-à-têtes and Toblerone at the smoking bench, overlooking a horizon of hills as wide as the sea) only part-answered my question of who this space is for. Some people were indeed using this alcohol-free retreat to kick a habit, yet others had come on a wise whim after an explosive event, and others had come with a broader sense of pain or restless yearning. The one thing we all had in common? Reflection, and enough compassion to choose wellbeing for ourselves.
When I felt myself resisting the group, I pushed forward and did an offered exercise, sharing my life story with all who chose to attend. Despite a decade in professional theatre and performance, I’ve never witnessed such listening, this combination of kind interest with zero expectation. I can still see everyone’s faces, and I feel it, like a battery for later. Day-trips offered familiar-style bonding - laughing together over a post-historical-tour, one-Euro, ice-cold beer in Folgosinho and sighing together over the finest tuna steak for less than a tenner in Gouveia.
And what a range of people to laugh, sigh, breathe deep, stretch, crack the odd tear, eat, talk with and listen to. Our ages ranged from 20 to 68; countries of origin included Portugal, Brazil, France, England, Germany, USA, New York (denoted as separate from the states), China, Israel, New Zealand, Ireland, Wales, Belgium and others. Occupations included athlete, teacher, politician, actor, store manager, linguist, therapist, artist, lawyer, consultant and student.
Both guests and staff were about 80% white and largely straight, but an acknowledgement of whiteness, and of our approaching Eastern practice with largely Western experience, made this one of the most self-aware places I’ve ever Namaste’d. The site is not step-free to access all areas, but some accommodation and main spaces are. It was lovely to be asked for pronouns when booking; openness and awareness run deep with a lightness of touch, and it’s contagious.
On that first night at dinner, I’d seen three men sitting together, overheard one of them talking about Bitcoin and presumed I wouldn’t speak much with them. A few days later I’d be tanning by the pool and end up having the most open, hefty, curious and authentic conversation with Mr Bitcoin. Afterwards I realised that having our boundaries and prejudices dissolved (at least at the edges, at least a little bit) is the only way to real peace. I’m reminded that wellness is a life’s work and it can’t all take place alone, hunched over a painting or poem; it has to take place in a community.
I mean, let’s just say it, the name’s a bit culty. Perhaps even over-reaching? But weeks on, my left hip no longer hurts when I mount the stairs at home, and I’m consistently getting more oxygen than I have for the past 30 years: it’s safe to say I’m interested in yoga.
Whatever combination of meditation, yoga, mindfulness, counselling, coaching, nature, socialising, sauna and massage you show up to, when you do show up, it becomes clear that this is not a case of attempting ‘New Life, New You’ in the sense of total reinvention, but rather a case of returning to yourself, putting out the fire that rages in your way, gathering the best of your old stone and building new from there.
