Yoga in Ibiza for the solstice: how a teacher prepares (beyond the sunscreen)

In a few hours I'll zip up my carry-on — the one that, I confess, almost always lives ready by the door — and leave for Ibiza. Yes, Ibiza: the island many imagine only as music and crowded sunsets. But I go there with my mat in my suitcase, for the summer solstice, to guide two practices in two places that have already stolen my heart.

And here's a little trade secret: preparing an event like this is, above all, work that begins long before departure — and far more on the inside than the outside. Let me take you with me, behind the scenes.

I'll admit it: when I say "I'm off to Ibiza" I already see a few knowing smiles, as if I were only going to party. And that's perfectly fine — I do enjoy the island a little! But behind a day of shared practice there's so much more: study, listening and time of my own to come back to myself. It isn't an escape from everyday life: it's a different, deeper way of being in it. For me a trip like this is never just a holiday — it's also a little retreat for the soul.

Inner preparation: the luggage you can't see

Before the clothes and the sunscreen, I prepare myself. Because guiding a practice isn't 'teaching a class': it's holding a space where other people feel welcomed, safe, free to let go. And to offer that space, I have to inhabit it first.

In the days before an event I take time for introspection: what intention do I want to bring? what do I hope people will take home? I practise for myself, in silence, with no goals — because only if I'm centred can I be centred for others too. And I train at something yoga taught me the hard way: letting go of control. Outdoors the wind picks up, the light shifts, someone arrives with a heavy heart. Inner preparation is exactly this: arriving ready to welcome the unexpected with presence, instead of fearing it.

Yes, there's a little flutter of nerves too — the good kind, that keeps you awake. Teaching means caring: for those who arrive full of energy and those who arrive tired, for those who've practised for years and those stepping onto the mat for the first time. To welcome everyone, judging no one, I first have to make space inside myself. That's why, in the days before I leave, my personal practice becomes even more precious: not to 'train', but to remind myself how it feels on the other side of the mat.

• ●A clear intention for each practice.
• ●Time to practise in silence, just for me.
• ●The willingness to welcome the unexpected — the wind, the light, the people.
• ●Remembering why I do it: to share, not to perform.

Preparing the practice: sequences, timing and places

Then, of course, there's the 'technical' work, which I love deeply. I study and build the sequences with my heart and with the clock: every practice has its arc — a warm-up, a peak, a soft descent into stillness. But a sequence doesn't live in a vacuum: it lives in a place and a moment. And everything changes depending on where and when you practise.

Practising outdoors is not like practising indoors. In the woods you contend with uneven ground, the breeze, the sun, the sounds of nature: the sequence has to leave room for grounding and wonder, not fill every second. In a studio, on the other hand, you have focus and silence: you can go deeper, work on the details, lower your voice.

And then the time of day matters. A sunrise practice — a Morning Flow — awakens the body gently and kindles energy for the day. A sunset practice melts away tension and prepares you to let go. Same teacher, same breath, but two different intentions.

The two places: the Sant Josep woods and the studio in Ibiza

Both practices are born in the same nest: Yoga punto can-pal, the centre that welcomes us on the island, run by Patricia Marie — the yogini who tends these places with a love you can feel in the air. Two different souls, though, for two different days.

On 20 June we'll be in Sant Josep, on a beautiful platform set in the woods. Picture unrolling your mat with light filtering through the branches, the scent of earth and trees, birdsong as your music. There I'll offer a Vinyasa practice designed for the place: a soft, intense flow of pure connection with nature. With pranayama and meditation we'll do deep inner work, letting the woods guide the breath — because some things, outdoors, you understand with the body before the mind.

On 21 June, the day of the solstice, we'll move to Patricia's studio in Ibiza: an intimate, gathered space made for going deep. As it's the longest day of the year, we'll honour the tradition of the 108 Sun Salutations: we won't do exactly a hundred and eight, but we'll open the practice with Surya Namaskar, letting each salutation be a small thank-you to the light. A beautiful way to celebrate the start of summer together.

They're two open gatherings, with limited places: but more than 'events', for me they're two invitations to pause and breathe together.

And there's something that warms my heart every time: finding myself among teachers who support each other instead of competing. With Patricia it's like that — and on this, I promise, I'll come back soon with a reflection all of its own.

What I pack (and what I leave at home)

In the end the moment of the actual suitcase arrives too — and it's the quickest. The mat, of course, always travels with me. Then layers (at dawn and in the woods the breeze can surprise you), a light sweatshirt, water, the right playlist and — yes — sunscreen. But the most important thing doesn't go in the suitcase: it's the intention I leave with. That one I prepare for days, and it's the only luggage that truly counts.

Why the solstice

21 June isn't just any date: it's the longest day of the year and — not by chance — the International Day of Yoga. Light at its peak, summer beginning: a perfect moment to renew your intention and give thanks. I've written about it, calmly, in a dedicated article.

Frequently asked questions

“Preparing a yoga event is mostly this: preparing the heart. The suitcase, after all, takes ten minutes. — Silvia