After I sent a text to friends and family to let them know I would be off the radar for a week, I immediately received a message back from my mother: phone off? Then you hardly need to do yoga anymore. And then I suddenly thought: What the f am I doing here as a 24-year-old all alone on a Thai island in a yoga retreat? I don't have a burnout and I'm not trying to quit drinking or drugs. I looked around and saw many people over 40. Quite goat wool-ish. Some women had braided hair like Heidi, which I thought was cool. I immediately thought of New York Fashion Week. It was full of Heidis.

But why did my phone have to be off here and not, for example, a week in Barcelona? Together with a friend, dancing, alcohol, and flirting. Then I would have had the ‘totally away effect’ too, I think. Okay, maybe I wouldn't have really caught up on sleep, but I would have had a lovely vacation.

I looked around and saw many people over 40. Quite GOAT WOOL-ISH.

My first yoga class began. On the beach, I rolled out my yoga mat with twenty others (who probably also had their phones off). I started in a cross-legged position and folded my hands together.

‘Deep inhale, and then exhale,’ instructed the 28-year-old instructor with short hair and purple harem pants. ‘Mmmmmmmm,’ everyone then hummed. I had to suppress my laughter. I had never had to do this in my yoga classes in Amsterdam. I was so glad there was no friend sitting next to me. We couldn't have taken this seriously. I quietly joined in. Eight times in a row. I peeked through the slits of my eyes at the girl next to me (from Manchester and the only one my age) to catch a glance from her. She didn't look back.

The teacher continued: ‘Please forgive. Forgive the wrong things you have done and forgive the people who have done something wrong.’

I immediately got emotional. I'm quite emotional. I start sobbing out loud during Extreme Home Makeover.

I quickly composed myself and continued with the exercise. After the class, Manchester sat down next to me. ‘Thank god for the sun today, the last days the weather was shit. And come on, I want to be totally bronzed at my Christmas dinner. And by the way, for the nice guys, you are at the wrong address.’

Okay, I'm totally in the right place here, I thought. Not necessarily because there are no nice men, but because there is someone who doesn't take this too seriously either.

‘And hellooo, shutting down your phone is crazy. Because it has to be? Or do you think it's better yourself? For what? And why?’ she continued sternly. She was right. I immediately turned my phone on and, pop, the message appeared on my screen: CAUGHT! You're peeking. They really know me too well...

But why did my PHONE have to be off here and not, for example, a week in Barcelona?

Young coconut water was served. The smile of a small Thai waitress felt safe. Following her was an equally small masseuse, dressed in a wrap dress à la Diane von Furstenberg, but made of linen and in olive green. She knelt behind my back and her little hands touched my neck. She began to massage gently. First my shoulders, then my back.

‘Lay down miss, please.’ With small pinches, she massaged my calves. She placed my legs in a frog position and gently pushed my knees down. After my legs, she reached for my neck again, massaged my earlobes, and tickled my head. That was the best part. I heard a bit of giggling when they felt my extensions, and before I knew it, there was a turban of a braided braid on my head.

‘Thank your body that you breathe, thank your body that you have a heart. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been here,’ she whispered in my ear. Tears sprang to my eyes again. I really felt at home here. Just for one week, though. Then I want to go back to the noise.