Latest news with #serenity
Arab News
17-07-2025
- Arab News
Wellness by the water: Exploring yoga in the Maldives
MALDIVES: There are few places in the world that truly embody serenity the way the Maldives does, and my recent yoga retreat at the InterContinental Maldives Maamunagau Resort was nothing short of transformative. The resort — set among turquoise waters, white sand and swaying palm trees — was not just a getaway; it was a reset for the body, mind and soul. From the moment I arrived, it felt as though time slowed down. Each day began with yoga classes overlooking the endless blue of the Indian Ocean with the sound of the wind rustling through palm trees and the gentle rhythm of waves crashing on the shore. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced. One of the most peaceful sessions took place around sunset, as the sky shifted from soft gold to dusky pink. A yoga retreat at the InterContinental Maldives Maamunagau. (Supplied) The retreat was led by Dubai-based instructor Emilia Métaireau. Each day, we explored one of the 'koshas' — the five layers of the self in yogic thought — starting with the physical and gradually moving on to the emotional, mental and spiritual realms. Métaireau's ability to guide us gently into each theme, while adapting to every participant's level, made the experience both grounding and expansive. And while the classes make you sweat, you remain in constant Zen mode. During the final relaxation, there was no escaping the inevitable: drifting into the deepest, most peaceful sleep. Post-practice, we had plenty of time to explore and unwind at the resort. Our villa came with its own bicycles, which made exploring the island feel peaceful and playful. Riding from one side to the other with the sea breeze on my face was one of the small joys that made the trip so memorable. The dining options were another highlight — whether at the Fish Market, The Retreat or at Café Umi for breakfast. The Lighthouse was undergoing renovations during our stay, but we were still able to enjoy its menu in a different setting. Fresh seafood, balanced flavors and thoughtful plating made each meal feel special. The resort is also on the edge of a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, and offers rare access to graceful manta rays in their natural habitat. We headed out on a boat, gliding across crystal-clear waters in search of them, stopping at three different spots. Mantas have a vast area to explore, so sightings are never guaranteed and, after a while, we began to lose hope. But just as we were about to head back, the team spotted them near the surface. Guests — including my husband — were able to get into the water with the rays. He said they were much larger than he expected, yet graceful and fascinating to watch up close. The resort's spa — set above the water — was the perfect complement to the physical and spiritual work on the retreat. The treatment rooms offer panoramic views of the ocean, which only deepens the relaxation experience, and every aspect, from the scents used to the post-treatment tea, was curated to bring a sense of calm and renewal. This retreat gave me the space to reconnect with myself in a truly meaningful way, and Métaireau's guidance gave me a deeper understanding of yoga. I used to attend classes in Dubai, but I struggled to focus, often skipping the breathing exercises, weighed down by the stress of a busy workday. But being in the Maldives, surrounded by nature, was a completely different experience. With every session, I felt more present, more grounded and more in tune with myself. If you would like to try yoga — or if you've already tried but found it hard to engage properly — then I highly recommend going on a retreat, even within your own country. Stepping away from your daily routine makes all the difference.
Daily Mail
05-07-2025
- Lifestyle
- Daily Mail
They're rich, stunning and are living it up in the Hamptons. But they are all scrambling for the same thing... at a staggering cost
Imagine yourself on a yoga mat in the backyard of a $20 million mansion surrounded by five to six other people wearing matching workout sets. The sun is beating down on your back as you smell the freshly-cut grass and the floral scent of the island's famous hydrangeas, serenity and nirvana encasing you like the warm summer rays.
Daily Mail
30-05-2025
- General
- Daily Mail
'It was obvious something had gone terribly wrong': In her first interview since Dr Michael Mosley's death, his widow Clare recounts the desperate search
There is a serenity about Dr Clare Bailey Mosley's grief that startles me. A year after her adored husband Michael died while walking in searing heat on the rocky outcrop of a small Greek island – perhaps of heatstroke, perhaps of a heart attack; 'What does it matter?' she asks, simply – there is no rage, no recrimination, no litany of 'what ifs?' You might expect her to be tortured by the random cruelty of this sudden, tragic loss.
The Guardian
28-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
I did a road journey in England avoiding motorways – and discovered a whole new country
I learned a lot driving to Hinckley in Leicestershire. I had some work there. That's showbiz, folks. I didn't do the journey as I'd normally do it – eyeballs out, gripping the steering wheel, fixating on the satnav ETA, on some motorway or other. If I'd done it that way, it would have taken less than two hours. For a change, I decided to take my time. And this change was as good as a rest. You're unlikely to find London to Hinckley in any coffee table book about the World's Best Road Trips, but this little odyssey lifted my spirits no end. It helped that I was on my motorbike. Wherever I'm going, I find motorcycling the shortest route to serenity. I think it's partly an ADHD thing, with the relief that total absorption affords me. On a motorbike you have to be absorbed – hyper-focused, in fact – because your life is on the line. And while there's road noise in your ears, there's none of the other brain-wrecking cacophony of modern life. No phone, no internet, no news, no radio, no nothing. In its own way, it's as peaceful as lying in a meadow by a babbling brook miles from anywhere. There's another magical aspect to it, which I can only really explain by quoting a guy I once interviewed called Ara Gureghian, who, with his rescue dog Spirit alongside him in a sidecar, had covered around 300,000 miles riding around the US for nearly 10 years. I asked Ara, what with the dog and all, if it mightn't have been easier to do it in a car. 'The difference between riding a motorbike and driving a car,' he said, 'is like the difference between sailing and using a speedboat.' That's not a perfect analogy, but I've never come up with anything better. So there I was, sailing along the A41 bearing north-west towards Aylesbury, passing Berkhamsted, Cow Roast, Aston Clinton. Wasn't Berkhamsted something to do with Graham Greene? What on earth went on in Cow Roast? Surely Aston Clinton is a bloke, not a place? These questions asked themselves, but there was no Googling for me, and on I went. Aylesbury materialised, but the Through Traffic signage was so insistent I took the hint and swerved the middle of town. Where now then? I spied a sign to Buckingham. That would do nicely. Weedon, Hardwick and Oving showed themselves. I was thoroughly enjoying the A413. The mere place names provided some enchantment. It felt a mite shaming, even rather rude, not to have seen or heard of any of these places before. I took a break in Winslow, somewhere else I had never heard of, which looked to me like a pitch-perfect little English town. How many more of these places were there around the country that I'd never heard of and would probably never see? It panicked me a bit. I parked in the town square and asked the lad in the shop if there was a cafe anywhere. 'Oh yes,' he said. 'There's a great cafe a couple of minutes' walk away.' He was right. It was called Legends. Here, an extravagantly tattooed and exuberantly friendly bloke made me a cup of tea and a sandwich. I'd have been perfectly happy, if I'd been able to stop thinking about how many places like this I'd been missing out on. I looked at the map, and saw my route was working the space between the M40 and the M1. I dread to think how many hours I've spent on those roads in my time, so close to all this, yet missing it completely. That's the trouble with motorways – since the first one, the Preston Bypass in 1958, they've been doing what they were invented to do. They've been allowing us to bypass everything. Which is great, and necessary, and how it must be. But the more bypassing we do, the more our world passes us by. I don't think trains are much better in this regard: they too take you past everything. Last weekend a friend was initially dismayed to find she had to take a rail replacement bus from Rugby to Rugeley Trent Valley, but was soon loving seeing the middle of towns and cities she'd hitherto only barely glimpsed out of train windows We all have an idea of what our country and our compatriots are like, but what are we basing this on when even those of us who travel a lot are seeing so little of it? Here's a sense in which I think we might well be an island of strangers. On to Buckingham and then Towcester. En route, Maids Moreton, Akeley, Lillingstone Lovell, Whittlebury: to you, I say sorry to have left it this long to make your – albeit fleeting – acquaintance. I decided I'd call this thing I was doing mindful motoring. And I busied my mind formulating some guidance as to how it should be done. Bike is best, but car is fine too. Just give yourself time. It won't work at all if you're on a clock. Optimally, don't have the car radio on, and, most importantly, don't use satnav. This makes a world of difference. If I have my satnav on, my attention's drawn to the data on it rather than what's all around me. It helps to plan ahead a little, pick a road number or two and just stick to them. The more route anxiety you spare yourself, the more headspace you free up. Here, for example, I knew I could get on the A5 at Towcester, which, deliciously, took me all the way to Hinckley. Towcester, by the way, looks a smashing town. And what a magnificent entrance it is to the racecourse. I'll be back. But not before I've chalked off some other mindful, alternative routes. I'm thinking Birmingham to Manchester on the A515 via Ashbourne and Buxton. And all the way from Oxford to Aberystwyth on the A44 via too many new places to mention. Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
