A while back, I flew to DC for Uncle Pete’s 80th birthday.
My daughter, who arrived with my dad hours before me, texted from the hotel:
“You didn’t choose this place, did you?”
“You’re going to hate it.”
It was your standard American Mc-Hotel Chain™: a A while back, I flew to DC for Uncle Pete’s 80th birthday.
My daughter, who arrived with my dad hours before me, texted from the hotel:
“You didn’t choose this place, did you?”
“You’re going to hate it.”
It was your standard American Mc-Hotel Chain™: a sterile lobby, an adjacent windowless breakfast nook serving standard Sysco dry goods, long carpeted hallways with heavy doors slamming at all hours, keeping you well aware of the presence of other guests without actually seeing them.
To be fair, there was nothing wrong with it. And I question even putting this type of privilege problem into the ether…
But my daughter knows I’m a travel snob. If a place has no soul, I’m not going.
(Unless it’s for Uncle Pete.)
Give me small hotels with character. Fresh local food. Thoughtful hospitality. A connection to the people and culture. Places that make you feel like you’ve actually experienced the region.
My daughter’s text reminded me why I personally vet every Twist Yoga retreat.
Not by reading reviews.
Not by relying on websites or social media.
By actually going: Sleeping in the beds… are the walls thin? Eating the food. Talking with the staff. Booking the massage.
Because 15 years, I booked a retreat I’d dreamed about for years. Online, it looked incredible. I was a public school teacher then, and I scraped together money I couldn’t really afford to join a teacher in India whom I’d long idolized from afar.
Instead, the retreat leader seemed as surprised as the rest of us to have arrived at a property next to a construction site and garbage dump. While the rooms looked as advertised, contexts of surroundings (and smells and sounds) were missing.
When participants voiced concerns, we were encouraged to “Accept What Is.” And: “Be at peace, this is the yoga.”
Cool.
There’s a difference between practicing acceptance and accepting poor planning.
I made myself a promise on that trip: I’d never ask someone to sign up for a retreat that I hadn’t experienced myself.
When I visit a potential retreat property, I ask myself:
- Would I happily come back here myself?
- Is the food fresh, local, and genuinely delicious?
- Do I feel safe as a woman traveling solo?
- Will guests feel genuinely cared for?
- Will we leave feeling nourished, rested, and inspired?
Surprisingly often, the answer is no.
That’s why we pass on far more properties than we choose.
When you join a Twist retreat, you’re not just booking a beautiful destination.
You’re benefiting from years of wrong turns, questionable hotels, sketchy experiences, and enough travel stories to fill a book.
I’ve already done the worrying.
You get to do the exhaling.
Our Savor the Season retreat in Spain this September has one room remaining, available as either a single upgrade or for two friends traveling together.
In February 2027, we’ll return to India for the ninth time: a retreat past guests regularly describe as life-shifting.
A $600 deposit secures your place.
If you’ve been waiting for a sign that it’s time to travel differently…
This might just be it.
We’d love to welcome you.