Editor's Letter: Yoga Retreat, the Art of Arriving

Dear readers,

There is a moment at the start of every retreat that I have come to love. It usually happens on the first evening. The bags are unpacked, the phone has been put away, and the long journey of trains, taxis and winding roads is finally over. You sit somewhere quiet, perhaps on a step by the river or on a cushion in a hall that smells faintly of incense, and you realise that for the first time in months there is nothing you are supposed to be doing. That moment is what this issue is about. I call it the art of arriving.

Welcome to the November 2024 issue of Travel Viewpoint, our issue on the yoga retreat.

Why a retreat, and why now

We spend most of our lives travelling towards something: a deadline, a meeting, the next destination on an itinerary. Even our holidays can become checklists. A yoga retreat turns that habit upside down. Its whole purpose is to stop moving forward for a while, and to pay attention to where you already are: your breath, your body, the light on the water, the people around you.

November is a wonderful time to try it. After the monsoon, the hills around the Ganga are green and fresh, the skies are clear and the days are mild. In Rishikesh the river runs a clean, cold turquoise. Further north, in the Himachal villages above Dharamshala, the Dhauladhar peaks catch the first snow. Many ashrams and schools are in full swing, and the festival season has quietened. It is, in short, a month made for slowing down.

The hardest pose

I am not a natural at yoga. On my first retreat, many years ago, I was the student at the back of the hall who could not touch her toes, who wobbled in every balance and who peeked at the clock during meditation. I expected the postures to be the hard part. They were not.

The hardest part was sitting still. On the first morning, our teacher asked us to sit for twenty minutes and simply watch our breath. My mind raced. I made shopping lists, replayed old conversations and planned the rest of my trip. By the end I felt more exhausted than I did after any physical class. Our teacher only smiled and said that this was normal, and that the practice was not to stop the mind but to notice it, again and again, without judgement.

It took me most of that week to understand what she meant. And when I did, it changed the way I travel. I began to notice more: the smell of rain on dust, the sound of temple bells across a valley, the way a stranger’s kindness can change the whole mood of a day.

A morning by the Ganga

The memory I carry from that first retreat is a small one. On the last morning, I woke before the bell and walked down to the ghat. It was still dark and very cold. A few sadhus sat wrapped in shawls; an old woman was floating a leaf boat of marigolds and a tiny oil lamp on the river. As the sky turned grey and then pink, the water caught the light, and someone across the river began to chant. Nobody spoke. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the river, the chant and the first sun on the hills.

I have been back to Rishikesh many times since, and I have seen the town grow busier, with more cafes, more schools and more traffic on the bridges. But that stillness is still there if you get up early enough to find it. That, I think, is the lesson of every retreat: the quiet is always available, but you have to make time for it.

What you will find in this issue

Our lead feature follows the Ganga from Rishikesh down to Haridwar, the one route that explains why yoga in India is so tied to the river, the ashram and the aarti. Our three-day ashram story describes ashram life hour by hour, so you can decide whether it suits you before you commit to a longer stay. We also offer a candid guide to what to skip on your first retreat, from overpacking to over-ambitious schedules, and a practical guide to food, accommodation and transport.

For those who want something gentler than Rishikesh, our less-travelled story takes you to Dharamkot and Bhagsu above McLeod Ganj, where small schools and forest paths sit in the shadow of the Dhauladhar. And from our archive this month, you will find our round-up of the best yoga and meditation retreats for November, a guide to women-only wellness getaways, advice on planning a retreat on a budget, a reflection on why the mountains are the best place to meditate, and a moving account of ten days spent in silence.

A few words of advice

If you are planning your first retreat, please choose with care. Not every school that calls itself an ashram is one, and not every teacher has the same training or intentions. Read reviews, ask questions, understand the rules of the place before you arrive and trust your instincts. A good retreat should feel welcoming and safe, never pressured.

And please be gentle with yourself. You do not need to be flexible, fit or spiritual to benefit from a retreat. You need only to show up, to be willing to try, and to give yourself permission to rest. Many of us are so used to being busy that rest feels like failure. It is not. It is where the real work begins.

Travelling with respect

Rishikesh and Haridwar are sacred towns, and many of the places we write about in this issue are homes and places of worship before they are travel destinations. Dress modestly, follow local customs, respect the vegetarian and alcohol-free rules in the holy towns, and keep the river clean. Small gestures, such as removing your shoes without being asked or offering a quiet namaste, will be noticed and appreciated.

Thank you

As ever, thank you for travelling with us. If this issue inspires you to take a few days for yourself this winter, I hope you find your own quiet morning by the river. And if you do, please write to us and tell us about it. We read every letter.

With warm wishes for a peaceful season,

Khushi Anand, Editor