Travelogues

ISTA (International School of Temple Arts) Songbook Gathering – Portugal 2025

from a personal perspective

 Wohoo… I landed, or better said, crash-landed, with quite a shake-up.

I’ve been zigzagging across Portugal for a while now, and I keep asking myself… why on earth did I get myself into all this???

It all started at beginning of August, as a sweet, ‘light’ stay in JuicyLand, with ISTA crew, my tribe, my people, good vibes. A soft landing. Although… from the very beginning that “light” stay was hinting it might not be so soft after all.

The plan was simple: I’d cook for the ISTA (International School of Temple Arts) Songbook gathering. For about 25–30 people max, including the housemates. But somehow, we ended up with 50+ participants…

OK, fine, I can handle that. ChatGPT calculated all the quantities for me, no biggie. Of course I can… and yet, stage fright started creeping in. Like before an exam. And that old question again: how do I always end up turning something that should be pure joy into homework, with grades at the end?! I’ve worked sooo hard in life to finally reach a point where no one is grading me anymore, and yet, PAFF!! Here it comes again.

What if the gluten-free-vegans-etc. complain and have nothing to eat? How do I cook 50 kilos of anything without overcooking or undercooking it??

So, I’m simmering away, tossing and stirring, waking up at night in waves of heat and heart pounding… blaming it on hot flashes (which, honestly, I don’t even suffer from). Hmm… so where is all this heat coming from? FIRE, damn it, right behind the hill, I could see the flames. Then they’d vanish. Supposedly controlled fire, the firefighters know what they’re doing, it won’t reach us. Some guests were already arriving, the evening before the gathering officially started. We stayed alert, but everything seemed under control. Songbook would happen, we’d sing and dance all night, despite the fire. Comforted, I went to bed, like a baby. Everything ready: hummus, Baba ganoush, salad dressing, lentil spread, Gomashio… all by the bucket-loads.

“Morning came, I was half-asleep, stretching, I heard some movement. Fine, morning yoga session. But… some of the voices didn’t sound very mantra-like. Knock-knock, Uri walked in:
‘Spirit, darling, stay calm, don’t panic, but be ready in 5 minutes, we’re evacuating. We’ll be back. Just grab the essentials.’!?!! Spoken by an ex-Israeli soldier. Which meant – believe him.”

Aaaa… fine, I won’t panic. But essentials?? What’s that even supposed to mean? Laptop? Something warm to wear? Makeup, body cream… and hummus??? All that work will go to waste!! So of course, I piled up like a donkey and start climbing uphill. Steep as hell, 80 degrees. Crawling on all fours, cursing the hummus, cursing the fire, and cursing the fact that I didn’t just book myself a simple vacation in Hanioti or Sithonia, like any ‘normal’ person??? And on top of it all, I didn’t even bring my gorgeous turquoise vest, nothing of my Temple outfits… what if it all burns?? Ughhh… human stupidity has no limits. Especially my own. I literally just escaped a wildfire that would devour not one, but three hills in the next 24 hours, burning everything in its way… and I’m thinking about sparkly outfits??

Maybe that’s for the better?

(I already wrote about the evacuation and our gathering in the village of Coja – so I’ll skip that part).

Off we go towards Porto. Everyone’s a bit quiet, not exactly a fun road trip mood. Somewhere on the way my thoughts brought me to my old friend Marko… We lost touch 4–5 years ago, friendship just…paused. A mutual friend recently mentioned he’s in Coimbra. I texted him:
“Marko, we got evacuated because of the fire. Any chance you have a bed?”
His reply: “Of course, just come.” And I came. As if no years had passed.

One beautiful gift the fire brought me.

From Porto back to Coimbra (which made no real sense, but I just couldn’t resist). One night there, hosted by Marko). Next morning, full-on FOMO attack. Damn… I prepared so much, invested so much, hoped so much… and the Songbook is happening somewhere, without me?? And I didn’t have the guts to just pack and go? Honestly, I could’ve joined right away, even though it was still burning. But I got stuck in that “poor me” syndrome: how, when, what if… Ohhh, you really learn a lot about yourself in situations like these.

Of course, after 6–7 hours of buses, trains, and random rides, I found myself in Sintra, at some new Quinta-da-something-that-didn’t-burn. Songbook gathering, music, dancing, celebrating, temple nights.. Except, I had no carefully chosen temple-festival outfit. Just my wool poncho, to keep me warm! Everyone else kept changing into gorgeous clothes, looking fabulous… me? Zero points. Again, I curse the fire, the expectations, the cooking, Portugal, and myself, who pushed me into all this??

I shrink inwards, my “inner child” wailing, ugly, awkward, without feathers to shine in. Fck.
Alright then, rise now, Phoenix, naked, without feathers. Let’s see you DOI it.

The Songbook gave birth to a beautiful little song, the homage to it all: from the black cat guardian of the house, through the ashes of the Dragon, to the Phoenix (those who know, will know).

“Even if the whole world is burning down…

We can hold each other’s hands…

And we know it’s not The End..

We shall rise, like the Phoenix, from the ashes…”

Big question for me: Did I really need to go through ALL that? Did I learn anything? And will I ever manage to tame that notorious FOMO of mine??

Day four after the fire. Back and forth, torn inside. Finally, I return to JuicyLand, to where the circle began. The smell hit me first. It reminded me of Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, the way he described the stench of Paris back then. I don’t think I have enough writer’s skill to capture it. Photos tell part of the story, but it’s the smell that goes into every pore: smoke, ashes, burnt life, plants, animals. The smell of nothingness. A smell that makes you sick, powerless, disgusted, and yet… sad. And then, hopeful again, knowing that nature would find its way to heal.

We try to act as if nothing happened. We’re alive, safe, the house is still standing. Only one house burned down (the Dragon House, where Songbook should have been held), but it will be rebuilt, better, stronger. Still… the smell lingers. It won’t let you forget.

All this what happened raises so many questions, globally, and on a very personal level. Maybe we all spin too fast with our plans, without pausing to listen. Maybe nature said: woooohooo… stop for a moment. Where are you rushing? Let’s slow down. Nurture ourselves. Nurture nature. Start from zero.

Thank you to everyone who was part of this story. We supported each other, grew closer, loved more deeply. It wasn’t easy, but it was truly all-inclusive. A full spectrum of emotions.

It was a privilege to live through it and come out okay.
Hopefully 😊