I’ve spent my whole life wondering when the feeling of homesickness would overcome me.
The particular kind of homesickness that I’ve caught myself yearning for is not the feeling of missing loved ones or closest friends or even a beloved cuddly pup. If you classify that as a sole definition of homesickness, then sure- I’ve felt that time and time again.
Rather, the kind of homesickness I’ve ached for is the kind that stirs deep in your chest when you leave a place that felt like it recognized you. A city, a scent, a sunset over unfamiliar streets that somehow knew your name. It’s the hollow throb of belonging to somewhere that doesn’t belong to you—missing a home you never had, but somehow always carried within you.
I found that feeling—unexpectedly, completely—in the Algarve. Tucked away in a quiet mountain valley just inland from Lagos, Portugal, I worked from February through the end of March at a detox and yoga retreat called Moinhos Velhos as part of a work exchange. On paper, it was simple: a set number of hours of digital media work and juice pressing each day in exchange for housing, food, access to yoga classes and meditational workshops from international teachers, the retreat space’s beautiful amenities, and the chance to soak in the Portuguese countryside. In reality, my experience gave me something far more immeasurably profound.
Signing yourself up for this style of work, specifically within a spiritually-rooted space, is a sort of unintentional form of exposure therapy in the sense that you are SO seen by the people you work and live with. You’re probably thinking- WHY would I want to sign myself up for THAT when I’m just trying to get some cool work experience, meet some interesting people and live abroad essentially for free? My answer to that is as follows:
Allowing yourself to be fully seen goes hand in hand with completely immersing yourself in a new cultural context and embracing the people and places around you.
Before leaving for Portugal, I “joked” with family and friends back home in the U.S. that I might very well come back as a zen-filled yogie, even more of a tree-hugger than I already was, and hopefully a better human than I left as…. fast forward a couple of months and bits of pieces of my joking certainly became reality- a reality that I am incredibly grateful for.
Every morning, I stirred to the sound of spiritual songs and morning birds humming, and the sight of golden light spilling over orange trees brought my lids to a flutter. The air often smelled of rosemary or citrus, but never both at once. Each day was a rhythm of intention. A dance of coexistence alongside strangers from all parts of the world who quickly became my tight-knit family.
Vegetarian meals were shared around a wooden table with the strangers who almost immediately felt like brothers and sisters, cool aunts and uncles, and even a mama away from home. Every lunch and dinner was cooked by 1-2 members of our little family, and the opportunity to play with new ingredients and bond in the kitchen gave me an entirely new sense of gratitude for food and soulful nourishment.
I grazed the surface of learning about a plethora of cultures as my little community was made up of friends from places like Austria, Brazil, Iceland, Moldova, Spain, Germany, England, Ireland, and Ukraine, amongst so many other unique parts of the world. Each person, with their own elaborate story and wisdom, offered me a window to see into a world I had never known. Peering through so many panes presented me with a deeper, more thorough world view, and a greater understanding of cultural impact on individual upbringings.
I juiced dozens of oranges, mastering the technique so as not to oversqueeze and fill pitchers with any bitter juice. I lit fires in the early morning mist, brewed herbal teas, and delivered warm greetings to the retreat guests in their temporary homes tucked into the trees across the property. I helped prepare meals and arranged juice jars like sacred offerings. I ran around our valley with views of the mountains and windmills off in the distance as I continued to prioritize movement beyond just yoga. I edited beautiful video clips while adorned by the retreat’s five cats in the lounge. I journaled on sun-warmed stones, and on my off days, swam in saltwater that shocked my lungs but healed something deeper.
Even the chaos had softness to it. Rainy days in March became an excuse to cozy up with new friends and talk about the meaning of everything—empathy, grief, dreams, love. Conversations at the kitchen table stretched into hours. We talked about our greatest desires and fears as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I was seen, held, and understood in a way that surprised me. In a way I’ll never forget. There were moments I looked around at the people I’d just met and thought, we were meant to find each other here.
Somehow, in this great world of struggle and separation, of love and wonder, a beautiful group of souls made choices that led them to spend time growing together and individually at a retreat in the hills of the Algarve.
Many nights, we sauna-hopped and cold-plunged until our bodies were buzzing. That natural high, that electric aliveness, became a metaphor for the whole experience—this dance of discomfort and joy, stillness and motion, solitude and community.
Time stretched and softened. And somewhere in the quiet rhythm of those days, something in me clicked. I felt more at home in that little valley than I ever expected. Not just comfortable- known. As if that patch of land had been holding a space for me, waiting for me to arrive.
By the end of my time there, my soul felt rinsed out and new. Saying goodbye physically hurt. I cried not just because I was leaving, but because I had arrived—and now I had to go.
But that’s the funny thing- I knew I would be leaving the place that created a version of myself that was mindful and grounded, yet open and more empathetic than ever; yet, I also knew I was now equipped to bring this version of me wherever I go forevermore.
I left with a notebook full of stories, names, and letters from many of the people who made Moinhos Velhos home.
And I knew, without a doubt, that this is what I’m meant to do. To tell these stories. To bottle up the feeling of faraway places that feel like home. To write the truth of what it means to belong somewhere you’ve never been before. The truth that every person lives their own unique human experience worth being shared and heard.
To my core, I think the word and concept “sonder” is so beautifully important in order to understand the world around us a bit better, and for that reason, I intend to share bits and pieces of the stories of the travel friends I meet along my journey of seeing and experiencing the world.
For those who may not be quite as familiar:
Sonder (noun)
:the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles
Learning the depths of souls so vastly different from my own, yet so inherently synced, echoed this feeling and allowed me to zoom out from human existence and recognize a far bigger picture.
All this to say- working on a detox and yoga retreat in a breathtaking valley in Portugal didn’t just give me incredible creative work experience, a beautiful view, and good food. It gave me clarity and inspiration. A reminder that the life I crave is out here—in stories, in landscapes, in the hum of connection with people and places that make the world feel smaller and more sacred. It confirmed that I don’t just want to write about travel—I need to. Because it’s how I make sense of the parts of me I uncover when I go someplace new and leave a piece of my heart behind.
Sincerely,
SB
