From Sunday Scaries to Soul Sundays

I arrived in the Algarve in the evening. A message on my phone warned me about severe storms in the area, and the forecast showed nothing but rain for the next week. I felt a mix of nervousness and curiosity about how the next two weeks would unfold. Mariana had sent me photos of the flooded land and her car stuck in the mud. My next destination wasn’t looking so promising.

As I checked into my bed and breakfast, I felt an immediate wave of calm wash over me. The woman at reception, Caroline, was incredibly kind and thorough, walking me through everything in the area and giving me a tour of the place. Uma Casa Beira Sol is divine—a sanctuary for relaxation and creativity. I felt at home the moment I arrived. The garden features a pool with water cascading over rocks, creating a soothing melody. Lush with orange trees, palms, and Nespera trees—introduced from Asia in the 18th century—it felt like a hidden paradise.

My room was fresh and clean, with a bright white comforter and delicate fabrics draping above the bed. The ornate, handmade light fixtures were each uniquely beautiful. The stone-tiled floor and large stone sink, done in warm earthy tones, added to the inviting ambiance.

After settling in, I went for a walk to find Camilla Beach. The sun was beginning to set, and the ocean glowed in a stunning periwinkle hue, reflecting the fading light. I got naked, put on my swimsuit, and jumped in. There were only a few others at the beach, and I savored this time to connect with the water and wash off my travels. I love the feeling of cold water on my skin—the way my muscles relax, my body tingles, and a deep sense of aliveness takes over. After leaving the water, I felt warm and refreshed. The water in Portugal is cold, but nothing compared to plunging into the nearly frozen Lake Hallstatt on Christmas.

I continued on, found a market, and picked up some simple snacks for my stay. After an extremely hot shower, I settled in to truly unwind. Reaching for my phone to play music, I realized the sound of the rain was the perfect song. As it poured outside, I cracked the door open to let the scent of rain fill the room. Pouring myself a non-alcoholic beer in a wine glass for elegance, I lay on the bed, opened my journal, and began writing poetry. Ahh, this is true presence. The soft Portuguese cheese, crunchy red grapes, and sweet dates made an excellent combination and, surprisingly, paired well with the beer’s floral notes.

I avoid drinking alcohol but genuinely enjoy the flavors of beer and wine, as well as the ritual of sitting with a drink. For me, it’s a satisfying practice—to focus on the senses, to taste, to savor both the flavor and the moment. Alcohol disrupts my sleep, leaves me mentally foggy, and disconnects me from my intuition. Without it, I feel so much clearer and aligned.

That night, I fell into a deep sleep. I woke early, staying in bed with my tea as I watched the sun slowly rise. Deciding to go for a walk, I discovered another beautiful beach. The sun shone down, wrapping me in warmth like the embrace of an old friend. I went for a swim, embracing the cold of the ocean as it awakened my senses. As I floated, I reflected on my relationship with Sundays.

Sundays have transformed from something I once dreaded into a day of ritual and ease. For many years, Sundays were spent desperately soaking up every last bit of fun, sipping every last drop of alcohol—partially out of fear for the coming week and the responsibilities ahead. The “Sunday Scaries” used to hit me hard, especially when I worked as a teacher in public schools across the Czech Republic. I would live in a new town or village from Sunday to Friday and return to Prague for the weekend. That meant every Sunday afternoon or evening, I boarded a train or bus to an unknown destination, waking up Monday morning to find the school and meet my students. It was intense—especially after a weekend of partying in Prague.

Once, I struggled so badly with leaving that my friends, Florence and Grace, came with me to the bus for support. I felt so much resistance and just wanted to stay in my bed. Imagine only sleeping in your own bed twice a week for over six months, all while navigating life in a foreign country without speaking the language. At that point, I had been in Prague for about a year. Looking back, I’m incredibly proud of myself. The experience taught me to deeply appreciate small comforts—the familiarity of my own bed, the feeling of truly making a place feel like home.

In 2020, I took back my Sundays. My friend Emilly and I started hiking every Sunday, calling them “Soul Sundays.” They became our church—a time of healing, reflection, and connection. These moments got me through a dark time and reconnected me to myself and my soul. Arguably, they were the most defining moments of my life. By creating Sundays as a sacred day of ritual, I found strength in myself, developed self-care practices, and deepened my self-love. I wanted to honor my body and set myself up for a beautiful week. This shift changed my entire outlook on life, bringing a profound sense of calm. Soul Sundays live on, and though we may not hike together every week, we continue to honor them as sacred time—to reflect, reset, and begin anew.

After my Sunday reflection at the beach, I returned to my bed and breakfast for a luxurious breakfast of fresh fruit, vegetables, croissants, eggs, and luscious Algarvian orange juice. After my meal, I retreated to my room just as the rain began to fall again. Nestling into the bed, I read for hours before drifting into one of the most luxurious naps of my life. I felt so safe, so relaxed—so full of self-love. Completely whole in my own presence, with deep respect for myself and my journey.