Yoga Retreat Review by Lenore Balliro
Adventure and Awakening: A Week at the Florian Villa on St John, VI
Most of us can’t step out of our lives for a year, like Elizabeth Gilbert does in her best-selling memoir Eat, Pray, Love, for travel and contemplation in exotic places.
We have jobs, families, lawns to mow.
But my recent experience at a six day yoga retreat at the Florian Villa on St John, Virgin Islands, allowed me to experience a mini version of Gilbert’s sojourn. Six days is manageable. Six days, planned carefully by villa owners Deborah Bernstein and Scott Wahlen, offers opportunity for personal reflection, forays into the natural world, and the kind of laughter and camaraderie with others that builds lasting community.
A year ago I wouldn’t have considered attending such a retreat. As a single Mom in my mid fifties, balancing demands of paid work, parenting, and organizing my recycling bins pretty much fills my weeks. But not long ago, I began practicing yoga at an adult education class. Despite my fears (I am neither limber nor flexible) I found the yoga class both challenging and soothing. I wanted to get a little more serious about a yoga practice, and the Florian retreat offered the opportunity.
Serendipity
Within a week after enrolling in this adult education yoga class, I receive a hand addressed letter containing a brochure from the Florian. You can call it serendipity or kismet; I call it the universe offering me a gift.
Images of the villa overlooking the Caribbean, lush vegetation, and a covered yoga deck seem inviting. The promise of twice-daily yoga practice with an experienced teacher who offers individual guidance is appealing. And since all meals, transportation, and activities are included, I could place the task-oriented part of my mind in hibernation, like my well-used computer monitor.
The constant vigilance necessary for women traveling alone wouldn’t be an issue at Florian; the villa hosts take care of everything, including transfers from the airport.
I sit down and crunch some numbers. Much cheaper than the Kripalu Yoga Center in Western Mass. Much safer than some other Caribbean islands I love dearly but don’t want to visit solo. I hadn’t taken a decent vacation in a couple of years—too many big “life events,” so I decide to attend.
Within a week I have child care covered, work projects organized, and my dog set up for an extended playdate. I know the retreat won’t radically change my life, nor do I want it to. What I hope for is simple: an experience to jump start and deepen a practice I can take back with me to Boston.
Throughout the experience, I am never disappointed.
St John
I have to admit, St John itself is a huge draw. I had been there before and fell in love with it. As an unabashed island junkie, I am intrigued by St John’s biodiversity. Most of the island is comprised of protected national park land with rainforests and deserts, remarkable bird species, huge iguanas and tiny geckos, wild tropical flowers, and spiky succulents. Not to mention some of the most spectacular beaches anywhere in the world, all 39 of them.
Clear turquoise waters and white sands are fringed by sea grape bushes, palm trees, and mangroves. Snorkelers, beginners and more advanced, can easily explore coral reefs that are close to shore, underwater caves, and areas around the cays (smaller islands) offshore. Because the retreat lists guided hikes and snorkeling among its activities, I anticipate a lovely balance of activity and rest, and that’s what I get.
Florian’s Mission
Something else factors into my decision to visit Florian. For every five retreats participants pay for, owners Deb and Scott offer the villa, free of charge, to families of fallen firefighters or wounded war veterans. Scott’s volunteer work with Soldiers Undertaking Disabled Scuba (SUDS) at Walter Reed hospital, and Deb’s volunteer yoga work with inner city kids, combined to provide a service motivation for their work. The backstory leading to their mission is a captivating one.
Florian’s Beginnings
Deborah Bernstein was a successful MBA following a traditional business route in the Boston area. Her corporate experience in operations and finance took her around the world in a fast paced- lifestyle. To address work stress after an injury stalled her regular running routine, Deb explored yoga, something she valued highly and eventually brought into her volunteer work with Dorchester school kids. She soon became certified as a yoga instructor, and as she started to teach classes, her life path drifted away from the corporate world. “I didn’t really want to be a CEO” she said. Instead she opened a small yoga space that grew into a larger, successful studio in Roslindale Square.
During this time of transition, Deb met Scott Wahlen, a Desert Storm vet and a captain in the Boston Fire Department. Their relationship took off. On a vacation to St John, an island Scott had visited years before, they explored Maho Bay and its eco-campground on the northern coast. The beautiful wooden pavilion used for daily yoga classes overlooking the Bay sparked their imaginations, and they both thought, “What if…”
Their next trip to the island focused on real estate searches, and when they found a suitable villa, Deb sold her Roslindale studio and Florian Villa, named after the patron saint of firefighters, was born in the fall of 2007.
Since then, the committed, hard-working couple has been building a successful venture that integrates their dreams, interests, and experience. Deb’s expertise in yoga and meditation is balanced by Scott’s high energy and enthusiasm, sense of humor, patience, and stamina. 
Participants in the retreat, like me, first meet Deborah, but as she explains: “Scott is the yang to my yin.” I come to realize that Scott’s qualities of playfulness, directness, and high energy add as much to the retreat as Deb’s guidance in more ethereal realms. Plus we get to talk real Boston; he’s wicked smaht, and he’s following the Celtics in the NBA playoffs.
Getting Ready
A few weeks before the retreat, Deb sends a welcome email to all the participants, outlining some practical matters: what to bring, what to leave behind, and what to expect. She reminds us to take sunscreen, bug spray, and a Nalgene bottle for refills at the villa. Other than that, all necessities are included in the retreat package: snorkel gear, yoga mats, transportation to activities around the island, yummy vegetarian food, and beverages of all kinds. We are invited to schedule a complementary hour long massage at the villa. And most helpful: the pick up at the St Thomas airport, where the plane lands, to St John, via a ferry ride on the car barge.
The personal pick up is a real luxury. I’ve been to St John before, and the route goes like this: land at St Thomas airport. Wait for a taxi to Red Hook. At Red Hook, wait for a ferry to Cruz Bay. At Cruz Bay, take a taxi to the final destination. All of this adds expense and time, making it a looooong travel day. St John is worth it, of course. But having someone pick you up with icy cold water in the front seat with your your name on it? Priceless. Somehow, Deb and Scott coordinate the arrival times of the retreat participants and manage , between their two SUVs, to pick people up and make seamless connections.
I’ll Be Wearing a Red Sox Hat and Carrying a Pink Carnation
Deb has no idea what I look like, but she picks me out of other passengers waiting for ground transport at the St Thomas airport.(I wasn’t even carrying a yoga mat or sipping, like, some yoga drink.) In the front seat of her comfortable 4-wheel drive, Deb offers cold water bottle from the cooler. I soon learn that these coolers full of water are a ubiquitous feature of the retreat. Scott and Deb have realized early on that adequate hydration makes for happy campers.
After a pleasant ride on the car barge we arrive at the Villa where I meet two of the other participants, Liz and Mike, a couple from Connecticut, my room mate Jordan from nearby Roslindale, and Scott, who reminds us of Florian’s service mission as we start the week. Betsy, another participant from the Boston area, is scheduled to arrive the next day after missing a connection in Atlanta.
A tour of the Florian reveals a gracious building nestled into a lush hillside with a breathtaking view of the Caribbean, multiple deck areas, and a terra cotta patio surrounding the pool. My room is lovely: two comfortable queen- sized beds, a personal bath with shower, large closet, two storage chests, and a TV. (We don’t even think of watching it the whole week, but it’s an option.) Books from previous travelers and Deb and Scott’s collection are available on bedside tables. Each room is equipped with AC, but we rarely need it. The Florian also offers a master suite, another large bedroom with two beds and private bath, and a charming loft sleeping space.
The sun is setting over the glistening pool fringed by vibrant hibiscus and frangipani bushes. As the participants get to know one another, we sip rose colored hibiscus iced tea flavored with clove or chilled white wine. A warm and comfortable rapport begins to develop, despite our fatigue from a day of travel. We get an overview of the week and are reminded that all activities are optional. I like that part. While I appreciate the structure of planned activities, I want the option to chill out alone if that’s what the day calls for.
Hints of careful planning are apparent from that first night: Scott hands out prepaid phone cards to each one of us to prevent big cell phone bills and we are invited to use the house phone for our calls.
Gradually, the frogs that make their homes in the bromeliads growing on trees all over the island began their soothing symphony, and it isn’t long before we retire to our rooms.
Having a Roommate in Your Fifties
If I had any trepidation about sharing a room, they quickly dissipate. My roomie, Kathleen, warns me: “I snore, and I talk in my sleep.” “Me too,” I assure her. (It turns out we are so tired at the end of each day neither of us hears anything from the other. At least that’s what she tells me.) Kathleen doesn’t mind if I read for a little while before sleeping. In fact, she is reading a novel I had recently finished and was dying to talk about (The Senators Wife by Sue Miller). For the rest of the week we grow from roommates to buddies. I have no doubt we will keep in touch over the years to come.
The retreat kicks in at 7:00 AM the next morning. I’m refreshed after a sound sleep on a comfortable bed with crisp cotton sheets and plump pillows. Because I don’t know if coffee is available, I have brought my own coffee works along with me—Pete’s espresso, a Melitta one cup, and filters. (I travel everywhere with this little safety pack.) But I needn’t have worried. Deb and Scott both drink coffee, and it is available each morning along with tea. I am able to pre-fuel with a cup before the first yoga class.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that yoga is not competitive; no one will judge me if I cannot get into the pigeon pose or stand on my head. It’s humbling to be the least experienced and least capable in any group, but it’s exhilarating to leave the fear behind and step out of a safety zone. From the first class, I feel comfortable under Deb’s gentle guidance. Fear ebbs, confidence grows.
We do yoga on the poolside patio sheltered from the sun yet open to the sounds of tropical birds. It’s a glorious way to start every morning. Deb’s experience at teaching a class of mixed levels is readily apparent. We move through postures gradually. Because the class is small, Deb is able to move among us, modeling postures and physically arranging our limbs if we are comfortable with direct guidance. She challenges us when she sees we are capable of stretching or “going deeper,” and she offers modifications when we need them for any knee, shoulder, or other body “issues.” Shivasana, the final meditative pose, helps us make the transition from busy mainland life to our retreat.
Jordan and I cool off with a dip in the pool, purified by a saline system that drastically reduces the amount of chlorine necessary to sanitize the water. Hence, no burning eyes, no bleachy smell. By this time we are hungry, and breakfast is waiting for us: a delicious and healthy buffet of yogurt, home- made granola, mixed fruit, and vegetable omelet.
Food
Like the first day, the meals throughout the week are plentiful and tasty, prepared by a local couple who caters on the island: By combining culinary talents from their home countries (Israel and Italy) they create appealing nutritious meals. Breakfasts include whole grain pancakes, mixed fruit, yogurt, and various egg dishes. The homemade granola, a group favorite, is a daily choice. Boxed lunches, prepared an delivered fresh for each of our daily activities included veggie roll ups, spinach pies, falafel, or veggie burgers; each boxed lunch is accompanied by a fresh green salad with piquant home made dressing.
For dinner we enjoy vegetable lasagna, rice and tofu dishes, mixed vegetables, polenta, eggplant, and other entrees and side dishes. I eat well during the week, better than I do at home. Fresh fruit and granola bars are always available for snacking. For anyone with specific food requirements or limitations, Deb and Scott take requests for a daily market run. In short, they want to make sure participants got what they want and need.
Though we didn’t leave the villa for meals, it is possible to do so. Taxis are available on the island, and other participants have explored the restaurants in Cruz Bay, a short drive from the villa. Local food (fried fish and shrimp, rice and beans) is available at a variety of small open places, and diners can find a range of restaurants from family priced to more upscale, like a new tapas restaurant. If you have a jones for espresso or latte, you can get it at Cruz Bay.
After that first yoga class, the days and activities flow from one to the other as gracefully as the asanas we practice on a daily basis—once in the morning for well over an hour, and once just before sunset for a slightly shorter period of time. We are taken to many of the bays on both the north and south shores of the island, places I wouldn’t have ventured when travelling alone but was thrilled to experience under the guidance of leaders and comrades. Here are some of the highlights.
Snorkeling
Our first beach visit is Trunk Bay, famous for its guided underwater trail. Our hosts have prepared everything for a lovely day: boxed lunches, plenty of cold water, transportation to the beach and back, rental and proper fitting of snorkel gear, chairs, umbrellas, blankets. This is the blueprint for all of our activities. All we have to think about is keeping ourselves hydrated and keeping our sunscreen reapplied. As someone who has to schedule, plan, and multi- task at work and home everyday, having someone take care of details was a huge relief and indulgence.
Like all the beaches on St John, Trunk Bay ‘s clear turquoise waters invite swimming and snorkeling. The underwater snorkel trail, monitored by in-the-water lifeguards, provides plaques at the bottom of the ocean floor explaining the vegetation and sea life. Beginning snorkelers can feel safe here as the trail is close to shore. I had the opportunity to field test my new snorkel gear under the guidance of Scott, who patiently and adroitly instructs me on the proper way to step into and remove flippers in the water.
Snorkeling provides a glimpse of a mysterious marine world, benign and thrilling. I’ve snorkeled in lots of places, from the calm protected waters at Xel Ha in the Yucatan to more wild open spaces off islands off Thailand. On the retreat at St John, I found myself experiencing snorkeling as an extension of yoga and meditation. The exaggerated, measured breathing through the snorkeling tube, the graceful movements of the body, light rippling through the water, all contribute to a dreamy slowing down of reality, a perfect complement to morning asanas. Even the fan coral seems choreographed in its languid backward/ forward movements responding to the waters motion. Instead of trying to explore as much area as possible (my usual MO), I allow myself to hover over certain areas for longer periods of time, waiting to see what appears. Yoga is not just rolling out the mat, Deborah has told us. I see what she means. I am rewarded with views of yellow snapper, blue chromi, and other little and big guys. In this relaxed state, I experience moments of pure joy, connectedness to the physical world, and enhanced gratitude for a healthy body and an opportunity to play and explore.
Not everyone wants to snorkel, and opting to lounge on the beach, swim, walk, talk, and rest are fine options.
In contrast to Trunk Bay, Yawzi Point and Waterlemon Cay offer more adventurous snorkeling. Though there is no lifeguard here, Scott, a certified SCUBA diver and medic, assumes a guardian role, swimming nearby in bright orange trunks for easy identification. Knowing that Scott is nearby allows us to relax into the experience in a way that travelling alone would not have. At Yawzi point we swim near or inside underwater caves; sea lettuce undulates and finger coral reach out in long rubbery tendrils. The variety and quantity of sea life at Waterlemon Cay is breathtaking. Scott points out a huge sea turtle with a fish stuck to its back; we watch as it swims to surface for air and returns to the sea floor. On shore after snorkeling, Betsy rests on a large rock and watches with trepidation as a herd of rams make their way home along the coastal path behind her!
Back at the villa in late afternoon we take dips in the pool and use the little shady nooks around the villa to read and relax. At 5:30 we are ready for the second yoga class of the day, a shorter and gentler version of the morning. Dinner, served buffet style like breakfast, is abundant and satisfying, and I’m glad to discover that leftovers are donated to local families on the island. Deb passes around the schedule for our massages planned for mid week. Over glasses of chilled iced tea and wine we recount the highs of the day and fall peacefully asleep to the welcome tree frog lullabies.
Ram’s Head
Day two brings a crisis in confidence. The planned activity, a hike to the top of Ram’s Head on the east end of the island for a yoga class, scares me. What if I can’t keep up? What if I get too hot and cranky and turn into a buzz-kill for everyone? I vent my fears, especially to Scott, who has carefully planned the event. Everyone listens, and though they are sympathetic, they are also encouraging and supportive enough to push me a little. Scott patiently answers my annoying questions: How long is it again? Will it be really hot? Do we have to carry heavy stuff?
Largely as a result of Scott’s infectious enthusiasm, I let go of my resistance, and I’m so glad I did. Scott, Deborah, and Michael shoulder large backpacks with water, food, and yoga mats. I am given a map and placed “on point” in front of the crew. I don’t disclose that I am directionally challenged, and I find it kind of funny that I am leading the pack, but I also appreciate the opportunity to rise to the occasion, and with Scott’s guidance, I do.
My fears drop away quickly, replaced by curiosity and excitement, and I find a surprising reservoir of energy. Along the way we examine wild pea flowers, turk’s head cactus, bromeliads of all colors, sage-like bushes. We pass Salt Pond Bay and Cobblestone Beach, and when a cairn identifies the cut in to the path, identified by Scott, we pick up the trail and ascend to Ram’s Head with magnificent views along the way.
I thought yoga at the villa was the bomb, but nothing could match the intensity of moving through asanas at this elevated spot on the island. It’s true that in tree pose one can imagine the body rooted to the earth anywhere—in a yoga studio, a living room, at work. But after the climb, where I feel my body connected with the earth in ways I haven’t felt since childhood, tree pose takes an added dimension. I am rooted to the ground. I am supported, literally, by the earth beneath me. And stretching out in front of the eyes was a blue expanse of ocean punctuated by an occasional lone sailboat or seabird. Where else would we ever hear a yoga teacher’s explanation during warrior poses: “Look over your left fingertips toward St. Thomas.” Or: “Pivot toward Tortola!” (When we are in yoga studios now, pivoting toward, say, the cardio machines room, we can close our eyes and imagine what Kathleen calls “the zen of St. John. )
Letting Go of Stories
After the class, Deb leads us in an activity where we are asked to identify a “story,” a repeated, internalized message that holds us back. I immediately identify the “I can’ts I’ve told myself over the years. “I can’t do yoga. I can’t dance. I’m too old to learn the piano. I’m bad at math.” Deb asks us to choose a stone when we return through the trail at Cobblestone Beach, one that fits comfortably into the palm. She asks us to speak our story to the stone so it becomes a receptacle for our negative message, releasing it from our internal tape player. We are then asked to choose a place on the island for burying the stone, and with it, the negative story.
I appreciate this activity. As someone continually trying to integrate ritual into daily life, I find talking to the stone satisfying, concrete, and helpful.
Massage
Suki, an experienced massage therapist who has raised her family on St John, comes midweek for our personal massages. In the brick courtyard tucked off the kitchen, Suki sets up her massage table, lotions, and oils. The sun is gentle, the birds (bananaquits, pearly eyed thrashers, hummingbirds) flit, hover, serenade, and floral scents float in as Suki works her magic. I step off the table smelling like lavender and feeling like silk. Sometimes it takes the loving, accepting hands of another person to help you love your own body, imperfections, scars, bulges, jiggles, and all. More valuable than the feeling of relaxation was my experience of body acceptance.
Reef Bay Hike
The three mile Reef Bay Hike, led by a knowledgeable and personable ranger from the forest service, begins at 900 feet above sea level in a wet rain forest. Along the trail we sniff bay rum leaves, taste starvation fruit (the dry banana like fruit of the locust tree) examine huge termite nests, millipedes, and enoli lizards. We inspect ruins of Danish-colonial sugar plantations dating to the 18th century, and learn about the slaves the Danes imported from West Africa to work them. In terms of flora and fauna, Dianne assures us St John is a benign island, with no poisonous snakes or insects and no rabies or disease carrying tics.
Slightly off the main trail hikers can find the remains of ancient petro glyphs carved onto stone. The images, recently identified as Taino Indian, are incised by stone implements. It is believed that the small clearing represented a sacred site for the Taino because it offered the only place on the island where fresh water pools are located. As we sit there for a lunch break, I ask silent permission of the rock and the gods represented there and give thanks for being allowed to sit beside the carvings the still pools.
The hike ends at the water where we take a dip and swim to the chartered ferry reserved to take us back to Cruz Bay. There, Deb and Scott pick us up for a ride back to the villa.
Wrapping Up
Before wrapping up our experience, we take a short shopping jaunt into Cruz Bay for souvenirs. The Friends of the National Park store carries an amazing array of recycled arts and crafts pieces, locally made items, jewelry, and t-shirts. Profits from all items go back to the national parks in St. John. I buy all my souvenirs here, including a bracelet made from the flip tops of aluminum cans, for my 14- year-old daughter. I also buy some Bay Rum skin splash and find out it is made by our ranger, Dianne. Shops from medium priced to high end offer jewelry, clothing, and other items. The Spice Shop is a favorite among locals and tourists for its collection of teas, herbs, and organic items.
As we gather on the last night together, softly lit by the solar lanterns lining the deck, we review the week with one another. I try hard to avoid rushing into task mode when I think about the trip home and the stuff waiting for me to do. Instead I keep my head with my body, on the deck overlooking the water. It’s true that I can do downward facing dog more adroitly now; I can move through a sun salute a little more gracefully. More important though, I’ll go back to Boston with connections to people who have shown me acceptance and have made me laugh out loud. I’ll go home with the jump start I need to keep the practice going and a little more space inside my ribcage.
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