Travel is about new experiences, and new experiences beg to be shared. When they're positive, our enjoyment of them is heightened by the presence of a like-minded soul. While if something disappoints, it helps to gripe, or better to laugh, with a companion.

Even people well-settled in relationships often find themselves faced with solo holiday time. I had been married for years, but both my husband and I worked in highly seasonal industries that were unfortunately out of sync. For years we simply didn't take vacations because we couldn't get time off together. Eventually I decided that this was no way to live and as I knew no other lone soul able to get away when I could, I planned my first holiday entirely solo.

Sun was a priority. I love to swim and any destination I considered had to be on the sea. Still, I was a bit terrorized by the prospect of going on holiday alone. The logistics of traveling wasn't the problem; I could board a plane by myself with no qualms. But I am shy. The idea of landing at a holiday destination with no partner, friend or other human prop was faintly alarming.

I decided that I would feel better about the whole concept if I could combine seriously laidback idleness with self-improvement, like a course of some kind. Poet Natalie Goldberg regularly teaches a program in Taos, New Mexico; but it was booked solid for the next two years -- not to mention being many miles from the sea. Francis Ford Coppola offers writing workshops at his villa in Belize. That sounded lovely, but was way out of my budget. I already knew of Hollyhock Farms on British Columbia's Cortez Island, but since I live in BC it didn't feel very exotic. I suspected it was also a little too new-age for me, and I know how cold that part of the Pacific feels, even on a warm summer day.

And then I found the website for Skyros, an island setting in the Aegean with a tantalizing program that went well beyond writing.

Skyros is an alternative holiday center. At its core is the ideal of expanding our horizons as well as our minds, and liberating our creative, childlike spirits. The London-based company is named for its home on Skyros Island in the Greek Sporades, although it also has a winter community on Thailand's Ko Samet.

Skyros Centre is situated in the village, allowing participants to mix with locals and spend much of their time absorbing authentic Greek culture. Courses here embrace music, art and writing, as well as many others that defy classification. The more remote location of Atsitsa, also on the island of Skyros, boasts a progressive eco-friendly design. The community is built of simple dwellings in a fragrant pine forest, overlooking a rocky beach. Although writing and music are also offered here, courses in general tend to be more physical: windsurfing, sailing, dance and theatre.

A Skyros associate met the flight at Athens airport and the following full day's journey of buses and ferries provided a great opportunity to start getting to know the people with whom I'd be spending the next two weeks.

I was amazed at how quickly I felt at ease. There were 35 people gathered that week in late September -- numbers can vary from 15 to 45. Almost everyone traveled alone, but it was far from the singles atmosphere of a Club Med or Club 18-30. Nor was it as blindingly youthful. Participant ages ranged from 5 to 85, with the majority between 31 and 50. Dress was appropriately casual, makeup and hair products minimal. No one seemed out to impress, or to score, or to be anyone other than themselves.

The program began the following morning, with breakfast and relevant announcements given in the form of an oral newspaper, followed by a brief Greek language lesson. The instructors gave brief presentations on the courses offered and most of us wrestled with indecision before making choices.

That afternoon I found myself in one of those perfect moments that seem suspended in time. I had been on Skyros for less than a full day; I stood on the centre's stone terrace, basking in the stunning Greek sunlight and smiling at the turquoise sea below. I felt entirely content, and suspected that I was in for the best holiday, if not the best two weeks of my life. I was also aware of a tiny speck of guilt: I wasn't lonely. I didn't pine for my husband or for any friend from home. In all honesty, it felt absolutely right to be there on my own.

In addition to the short story class, I registered for wine-tasting before dinner. I also had every intention of doing Pilates or yoga on the beach each morning at 7.15. In my defence all I can say is that intentions must count for something. Afternoons are always left open, to wander the village or loll in the sea. There are two sandy beaches about a twenty minute walk from the centre, one for those who like to get their swimsuits off and bathe au naturel.

Skyros course facilitators tend to be of high calibre, although a few participants mentioned that they would have welcomed more structure to the teaching. I learned a lot about writing and many things about wine although in all honesty the centre itself, the community, the structure and the mood of the place had more impact on me than any of the courses.

Up to three classes a day, four days a week, are included in the holiday. The program changes halfway through each session, so participants can try something new. All courses -- indeed all activities -- are optional. This is a pressure-free zone where people are genuinely made to feel that it's okay to do as little or as much as they like. The Mediterranean pace of life affected almost everyone within the first couple of days. What happened during my stay is fairly typical; most people, brimming with energy and enthusiasm, signed up for the maximum of three courses during the first week. By week two we opted for less learning and more chilling. I kept up with the short-story writing, but didn't take an afternoon class. I wanted to stop time that second week, and most days I stayed on the beach, swimming or contemplating the sand for interesting pebbles and sea glass, until it was time to shower and get ready for dinner.

The Skyros philosophy reminds us of what life is meant to be. Its goal is to reunite us with our dreams and our creative energy. It soon seemed easy to leave my fears behind, to try new things and befriend strangers. The classes themselves and the meals shared at long tables provided so many natural opportunities for mixing with people that I soon felt comfortably acquainted with over half of the group.

The quality of any given Skyros experience depends entirely on one's fellow participants. I was blessed to find myself with an eclectic mix of interesting and entertaining characters. Women out-numbered men by at least four to one. This ratio tends to lean the other way at Atsitsa. On average, three quarters of participants hail from the UK. (I was immediately aware of a certain cachet for having traveled all the way from Vancouver.) The age range was as broad as our professions and the circumstances that brought us to Skyros. What united us was our desire to stretch our selves, not just our limbs. To be part of a community while on holiday, rather than pampered guests at a luxury resort.

I instantly clicked with several people and by day four my cheek muscles ached from laughing so much. Like most people I chose to share a room, in the interests both of economy and enforced sociability. I had bravely prepared myself for two twin beds in a cramped, dorm-style room, and was delighted by the spacious two-bedroom apartment with full-sized beds. Single accommodation is available for those who prefer it, but my roommate was wonderful -- a witty Londoner who kept many of us in stitches the entire two weeks.

Although some of the program is set, much of it is open to spontaneity and adventure. A few of us set off on a three-hour walk through a green valley one morning, past goat farms, pomegranate trees and a Byzantine church. A guest, not a facilitator, organized a dinner party and Greek folk dancing lesson at a taverna in honour of another participant, who was lucky to celebrate her birthday on Skyros. And on our first proper weekend, free of classes, we gathered to make sand-sculptures on the clothing-optional beach. Another evening there was a pilgrimage uphill to watch a blood-red moonrise.

Lunch was provided most days, but dinner on only a few celebratory occasions. Instead, most evenings we would wander off in pairs or groups bound for traditional ouzeris or cafés. We yammered away, losing track of our purpose, until some hungry or organized soul took charge by ordering food and wine or beer. Greek food is often better outside of Greece, and that was certainly true of the questionable lamb that many of us requested one night. (Our first clue should have been that it wasn't on the menu.) The food provided at Skyros Centre, however, was generally both excellent and healthy. I also swooned over some wonderful fresh grilled fish and fried zucchini at a beach taverna one night. A group of us quickly fell into the habit of sitting up late, talking, drinking, stargazing -- usually on the magical roof terrace of the village's Music Bar, where tiny lights glowed from coloured shades and the starry heavens inspired the kind of lucid conversations that you tend to remember for a long time. After such an evening many of us slept right up until breakfast, instead of dutifully showing up for yoga, Pilates or meditation.

I found it surprisingly easy to talk to people, but I also enjoyed strolling down into the village on my own, sometimes with notebook in hand, to work on an assignment from class. The village itself has a traditional prettiness, white cubist buildings squeezed between cobbled streets. The hilly, winding roads are too small for automobile traffic, but perfect for sensible shoes and pack mules. Inviting, narrow lanes eventually rewarded me with coffee, ouzo, fresh-baked baklava, Greek Delight, or orchid-flavoured ice cream.

Too often a holiday is truly over when it's over. It can leave me unsatisfied, even deflated by the thought of returning home. And at the farewell cabaret on our final night, I did notice a few sad faces preparing themselves for re-entry into normal life.

Still, many of the repeat visitors assured me that a Skyros experience has more lasting power than your average vacation. It can change people in ways that last well beyond the tan. For me, and for those with whom I've kept in contact, this has been true. Our creative selves are still awake and roaming and demanding a higher priority in our life. We remember how we felt on Skyros. Once liberated, our spirits will not be easily caged.

And, as long as Skyros holidays exist, none of us need ever again feel terror at the prospect of a solo vacation.

Feedback
"I enjoyed the article greatly. It sounded like the writer went to a different planet; a place where she was able to let her hair down and enjoy life by living and breathing free. I've been to Skyros three times and seem to have retained only the memories of the hassles of getting there. Athens (ugh!). I learned today that it snows big-time on Skyros island. (Talk about well kept secrets.) As a 25-year resident of Anchorage, Alaska, I'm trying to escape from the stuff! Enough snow already! Overall, I thought it was a great, honest, article. Thanks. " George Comnenos