MEXICO

Oaxaca — 
Clay as a mirror


Retreats like Sacred Woman Retreat are grounded in cornfields, herbal steam baths, and the ancestral pulse of the Sierra. Here, women embroider, paint, listen to their bodies, and honor the land. Nothing is mystical—it’s ancestral memory made tangible. Every gesture is a way of remembering.

Sian Ka’an — The Caribbean, unfiltered


At Casa Chablé, the retreat unfolds within jungle and sea. There’s no ambient music, no motivational speeches. Just sky. Mangroves. Slow yoga. Living food. Women who don’t need distraction. Here, you don’t “heal”—you realign.

Mexico City — Workshops that don’t pose for Instagram


Spaces like Casa Lü or FARO de Oriente offer creative residencies where writing, pottery, zines, and oral poetry are private processes—not polished products. You don’t come here to show. You come here to remember who you are.

PERU

Sacred Valley — High altitude, deep roots


 At Espiral Medicine, journaling, breathwork, and cacao ceremonies aren’t spiritual tourism. They’re real, raw experiences. You arrive not knowing what you need. You leave with a letter to the quietest version of yourself.

ColOmbia

Sierra Nevada — Ritual fire, emotional collage



In Return to the Heart, you cry, you paint, you scream, you laugh, you burn what no longer fits. Nothing is made for comfort. Everything is made for awakening.

UNITED STATES

Los Angeles — Where art also heals


At the Women’s Center for Creative Work, workshops on food, feminist resistance, and performance art become home. There are no gurus. Just real women. Real space. Real questions. And others—just like you—who are looking for something more.

FRANCE

Occitania — Silence that writes with you


 La Muse is a residency where women write in silence, surrounded by mountains, wind, and strong coffee. No small talk. No performance. Just blank pages and deep breaths. Silence isn’t punishment here—it’s freedom.

UNITED KINGDOM

Cornwall — The sea as your emotional mirror


 At The Salt Sisterhood, women swim in freezing waves, journal from the gut, breathe with intention, and walk with wet feet and wide-open hearts. They arrive afraid. They leave with a voice.

Maybe this is your sign

Maybe it’s not a coincidence we’re gathering in circles again.
Maybe we’re drawn to muddy earth, hand-thrown clay, cold saltwater, real fire, and musicless silence for a reason.

Maybe this new way of traveling—raw, intimate, unscripted—isn’t a trend.
It’s a rebellion. A remembering. You don’t need to have it all figured out. You just need to be willing.
Because the most important part of any journey isn’t where you go—
It’s realizing you can’t stay where you are.