It all started with a Guardian article. I can’t even remember what I was originally looking for that day—something unrelated, I’m sure—but a headline about digital disconnection caught my eye. I clicked. I read. And something in me shifted. The article introduced The Offline Club, a concept that immediately intrigued me. I found myself going down a rabbit hole on their website, reading about how they create spaces for people to disconnect from screens and reconnect with themselves—and each other.
That’s how I stumbled across the Getaway Weekend. The idea was simple, almost disarmingly so: a few days offline with strangers, somewhere peaceful, with no real program except shared meals. I was working from home, increasingly craving meaningful connection beyond Zoom and Slack, and curious to see what would happen when I stepped outside my comfort zone. Could I handle being unplugged? Would it feel awkward? Boring? Liberating?
So I booked it.
The structure of the weekend was refreshingly minimal. No jam-packed schedule, no forced team-building. Just breakfast, lunch, and dinner prepared and shared together. In between? Free time. Space. You could be alone or join others in a walk, a game, a chat, or nothing at all.
We began with a gentle introduction: name, where we came from, one activity that makes us feel “in flow,” and what we hoped to get from the weekend. That simple check-in already made me feel connected, even if I didn’t know anyone’s last name yet. At the end, we came together again to reflect—each person sharing what they had actually experienced, which in many cases was something deeper than expected.
What amazed me most wasn’t the peace and quiet—though there was plenty of that—but the people. I met such open-hearted, thoughtful humans. The hosts held space beautifully, letting us be ourselves. No pressure, no expectations. Just time. Freedom. Mutual respect. Time slowed down in the best way. I found myself having conversations that skipped the small talk and went straight to the good stuff. And somehow, despite being with strangers, I felt a sense of community I hadn’t felt in a while.
What surprised me as well? I didn’t miss my phone. Not once. No urge to check messages, scroll feeds, or capture the moment for someone else to see. I had expected some level of digital withdrawal, but instead, I felt oddly free. Untethered. Present in a way I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.
Stepping outside my usual routine—out of the comfort zone of screens, notifications, and constant connectivity—felt not just refreshing, but right. Like a gentle reset I didn’t know I needed. And although the idea of spending time with strangers, without the buffer of phones or plans, seemed intimidating at first, it turned out to be exactly what made the weekend so meaningful.
As I am writing and re-reading this, I have to admit, I get a bit emotional. I’m still sitting with the afterglow of the experience. I’m pretty sure I’ll go again, maybe for longer—but I’m glad I gave myself this first taste. If you’re curious what it’s like to be offline, not as a detox, but as a way to truly be with others and yourself, I can only say: try it. You might be surprised what you find in the quiet.