Our retreat couldn’t come any sooner, as it was a relief to escape the clutches of the dismal rain back in the UK and bask once more in the welcoming arms of our beautiful Moroccan villa, El Goute, where the sun always shines! The Moroccan dishes were nothing short of divine; we dabbled in light lunches but went all out for our evening meals with huge tagines and puddings. And yes, the staff—always the paragons of hospitality—went above and beyond, bending over backwards as if their mission in life were to please us all.
Our newest addition to our divorce & grief retreats is our fitness fanatic and counsellor Annabel Kicks, who also seemed to be a secret yogi and marathon runner, added her expertise and warmth to our group therapy sessions, weaving a tapestry of healing with finesse.
And who could forget the return of our beloved frequent flier Janey, sharing with us her stories that would make Bacchus blush?
Aisha, our lovely Kiwi yoga teacher, came back, although at times it felt like I was reliving my childhood on Christmas Day with a game of Twister, tangled up in contortions aplenty.
And no retreat would be complete without a tale to regale! Ah, the transportation woes! I decided to roll the dice with a new transport company, only to find myself saddled with a chauffeur more lost than a puppy in a maze, armed with a dead phone and not a charger in sight, heading for the countryside blind folded.
It was like being stuck in the middle of a cosmic comedy, but hey, I made it out alive and with a tale to spin.
And isn't that just the quirky charm of traveling? Embracing the unexpected twists and finding humour in the chaos. All I can say is thank goodness for GPS and patience.
Beyond our cosy villa, we explored the city of Marrakech with its winding streets and vibrant souks, finishing the day with a surprise birthday party for Jane and Deirdre, who happened to have birthdays in the same week.
And so it happened that, after almost 40 years, I found myself picking up a tennis racket with the intention of burning off the abundant tagines, hiring a local tennis coach who perhaps mistook me for the next Serena Williams (or perhaps not). By the final evening after the indulgence of a Hammam and massage, I felt as if I'd gone toe-to-toe with Mike Tyson himself. In the end, amidst the laughter and tears, there was lots of support and encouragement amongst these amazing, strong women who had experienced divorce, bereavement, and everything in between. That's the fabric of life, woven together with threads of new friendship, hope, and adventure. Roll on Portugal 5-10 September 2024. I really can't wait to do it all over again.