A Weekend at Cocoon Eco Lodges Comporta: Rediscovering Stillness and Soulful Connection

This past weekend, I escaped the noise. Not just the noise of the world, but the constant hum of to-dos, daily routines, and mental clutter. My daughter and I packed and drove south to Cocoon Eco Lodges in Comporta - a hidden retreat nestled at the end of a long, unpaved road.

After about 3 kilometers of dusty terrain and pine forest, we arrived. It was off-season, and the quiet wrapped around us like a soft blanket. There was no rush, no crowd, no pressure to do anything but breathe.

Nature, in its purest form

The first thing I noticed was the scent of dry pine needles warming in the late summer sun. Then came the birdsong, layers of it, echoing across the trees. My nervous system exhaled. I felt it immediately: a sense of belonging. Of returning. 

My daughter ran straight for the natural pool, laughing, pointing, chasing frogs that leapt from the water’s edge with surprising grace. I stood nearby, barefoot in the grass, watching her joy unfold in real time. Dragonflies hovered. Waterbirds glided overhead. The pool wasn’t just a place to cool off; it was alive. Untamed. Real.

Surrounded by wild grasses and native plants, it felt like we were stepping into a quiet corner of the forest. The water was cool and calm, with frogs jumping in from all sides as we arrived, as if they were part of the welcome.

Dragonflies skimmed across the surface. Birds flew overhead, swooping down to catch insects. It was full of life, completely unfiltered and alive.

There was something so grounding about being in that water. No chemicals. Just nature all around us. You could feel the difference, the aliveness of it, the way it connected us to everything happening in and around the pool.

My daughter made a game of chasing frogs, laughing and splashing, while I just floated for a moment, taking it all in.

Simple shelter, deep comfort

Our cabin was modest and beautiful - a self-sufficient space equipped with just what we needed. I love this kind of simplicity. It invites you to slow down, be intentional, and return to the basics: preparing a meal together, lighting a candle at dusk, sitting still long enough to notice how the light shifts across the floor.

We spent the afternoon discovering the forest, letting the landscape speak. No agenda. No destination. Just a quiet rhythm of steps, breath, and wonder.

A night sky that humbled me

That evening, the stars took my breath away. So far inland, without a trace of light pollution, the sky became a living canvas, infinite and humbling. Owls began their nightly calls, and somewhere in the distance, I think I heard a fox cry.

Lying in bed beside my daughter, I listened. And I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time: serenity. Not just the absence of stress, but the presence of something deeper, stillness, safety, soul.

Morning discoveries and small magic

At first light, we rose before the sun. My daughter reached for my hand and whispered, “Let’s go exploring.” So we did. We wandered past the chicken pen, discovering a sweet little play area hidden among the trees. She played. And the world felt whole.

This wasn’t just a weekend getaway. It was a reminder. A realignment.

Time in nature has a way of clearing the mind, softening the heart, and helping us hear what’s really important: the sound of our children laughing, the rustle of the wind in the trees, the truth of our own breath.

As a designer, this kind of experience fuels everything I do. It's why I believe in spaces that reflect the rhythms of nature, that invite pause, that hold us gently in our most human moments.

In a world that glorifies busyness, we need more places like this, places that allow us to slow down, reconnect, and simply be.

Inspiration for the Home

This stay reminded me of the design principles I return to again and again:

• Let nature lead - whether through wild gardens, natural materials, or the presence of frogs at your doorstep.

  
  

• Design for presence - creating spaces that invite mindfulness and connection, not just function.

  
  

• Simplicity is sacred - sometimes less really is more, especially when it makes room for clarity, creativity, and joy.