Savour & Soothe
by Andrea Rubin
In my early twenties, I spent time in Italy. I arrived in a town I had never heard of, in a language I didn’t quite understand, and I had to learn the simplest things from scratch—the dance of buying bread, fruit, and vegetables from the local shops, navigating a culture where ordering a cappuccino after noon raised eyebrows, and how choosing to sit at a table for breakfast cost more than eating it while standing at the counter.
It took me even longer to adapt to the culture of closing from 1–5 every afternoon. Sometimes banks and shops would even invent their own hours if something more important came up. This was before the internet, before ATMs on every corner. There was no quick solution when things didn’t go as planned.
Looking back, that time became one of the greatest lessons of my life. It taught me how to move through discomfort, to adapt, and ultimately to discover a deeper kind of happiness—one rooted in resilience and in connection to people, places, and culture I never could have imagined.
Years later, back in Montreal as a registered dietitian, I found yoga during the darkest periods of my life. Through the steady guidance of my teachers, the practice slowly healed me. By learning to breathe, to calm my nervous system, and to strengthen both body and mind, I found my way back to living.
I have now been teaching for more than a decade. Every class reminds me how powerful simple connection can be—between breath and body, between teacher and student, between strangers sharing a space.
That is why I lead retreats.
Because something happens on retreat that simply cannot happen in a 60-minute class.
Time stretches, the walls come down, the masks soften.
Food tastes different, the body speaks more clearly, and we begin to hear cues that daily life drowns out.
As a dietitian, I care about nutrient adequacy, fiber diversity, and blood sugar stability. As a yoga teacher, I care about presence, gratitude, and embodiment.
On retreat, these worlds merge. Nutrition becomes ritual. Movement becomes medicine, and connection becomes the real nourishment.
This year will mark my fourth European retreat, and my first in France. I return to the continent that feels most familiar and different at the same time. Where I can support an extraordinary group in finding what they need, whether that is ordering a cafe au lait in the afternoon, or finding a resilience they didn't know they had. Surrounded by lavender fields and ancient olive trees, life naturally slows to a rhythm that invites presence. Meals become long, nourishing gatherings. Movement happens while breathing in thyme, rosemary, lavender, juniper and pine. Conversation flows easily among people who arrived as strangers and often leave as something closer to family.
A retreat here is a return to what nourishes us most: simple food, open air, meaningful connection, and time to listen to the body again. In the quiet rhythm of the land, we step away from the noise of daily life and remember how good it feels to slow down, breathe deeply, and truly inhabit our lives.
