Less than 24 hours after an astrologer read my birth chart at a secluded retreat on Türkiye's Turquoise Coast, I got engaged. It's the kind of life-altering event I’d hoped to have written in the stars, but it wasn't.
Admittedly, there was a bit of a language barrier. But as someone who’s spent an increasing amount of time writing about astrology — from travelling according to my astrocartography chart to interviewing couples using the stars to choose their wedding dates — I wondered if I'd misunderstood what astrology could offer.
I'd come to Faralya, a tiny village clinging to Türkiye's southwestern coast, to stay at Perdue, an adults-only retreat from boutique hospitality group Soulsetters. Hidden among olive groves and orange trees, with the mountains rising behind it and the Aegean stretching endlessly ahead, the property describes itself as "barefoot luxury". Its safari-style tents are peppered along the coastline, with private terraces and jacuzzis overlooking water the exact shade of the blue lagoon cocktails I used to drink by the pitcher at uni.
Soulsetters has launched its Stay Written in the Stars experience, which takes the idea of a personalised holiday to its logical — or, depending on your persuasion, illogical — conclusion. On arrival, guests hand over their birth date, time, and location to the property's resident astrologer. Your chart is interpreted, and an itinerary is recommended from it.
Depending on what the stars think you need, that might mean yoga overlooking the sea, trekking a stretch of the ancient Lycian Way, art therapy, learning the traditional craft of Turkish carpet weaving or watching a film beneath the night sky. The recommendations aren't compulsory; rather than spending weeks researching, saving TikToks and devising the perfect itinerary, you can let the universe decide. After all, isn’t that what a holiday is about: absolving yourself of responsibility?
Letting the stars take over
If surrender was the assignment, Perdue makes a compelling case for it. The property tumbles down towards the water, citrus trees dappling the light on the wooden pathways between canvas tents and decks.
My tent — though really it was closer to a suite — came with a private terrace, sea pool and a sprawling sea vista. Elsewhere, Bali beds invite horizontal afternoons with a book you never crack open (in my case, The Odyssey), while ladders lead directly into the ocean.
It’s an environment designed to make your phone feel redundant. Soulsetters encourages guests to go analogue where possible, swapping screens for landscapes and activities that use your hands, body, and untapped sections of your birth chart.
Before any of that could begin, though, I needed to find out what the universe had prescribed.
The reading highlights characteristics and energies that might benefit from being encouraged during your stay, with activities recommended accordingly.
In my case, there was talk of the Leo in my chart and the need to bring out a more energetic side of myself: to move, expend energy and start the day actively. Starting your day exercising is hardly a novel concept, but one nugget rang especially true: Drew, my partner, could help bring out my playful Leo side; it’s a role he’s been playing for the past 10 years. So, the stars weren’t exactly predicting my future; mainly they were saying to get out of bed and have more fun.
The big thing the stars didn't predict
The following morning, Drew, true to our dynamic, encouraged me to do something I’d never done before: jump into the sea. Despite growing up on the coast, I’d been a shy child, inclined to stay indoors. As I tucked my knees into my body and dropped into the water (from no great height), I thought the part of my reading where I was encouraged to let Drew bring out my Leo side had been true. It was also our 10th anniversary, and I liked the idea of using that as a launchpad — literally — for a new version of myself, one less weighed down by fear.
I find anniversaries of all kinds encourage reflection and a kind of retroactive narrative building. The symmetry of ten years was particularly irresistible: a neat decade I could arrange all the details of our life into.
Later in the trip, we'd take a sunset cruise on a boat called Moon Day. I didn't know at the time, but Drew had planned to propose there. This seems an entirely inconsequential detail were the moon not a recurring symbol in our relationship. Neil Young's Harvest Moon is, perhaps, clichédly, "our" song. Over the years, Drew has given me moon-shaped and moon-inspired presents, including a floating planet lamp from Etsy that sits on my work desk.
And 27 July 2026 was a Monday — Moon day, explained astrologer Clarisse Monahan when I got back home.
This sounds like I’m scrabbling to arrange a collection of coincidences into a destiny, and maybe I am — that's the funny thing about looking for meaning: once you start, it appears everywhere.
Drew didn't propose on the boat as planned. As soon as we set foot on the craggy terrain of Perdue, with its winding, tealight-strewn walkways weaving towards the ocean and tucked-away tents, he knew this was the place.
That night, in Perdue’s private dining, an area carved into the cliff face and hidden from prying eyes by wispy white drapes, we watched as the sun burned a bright pink before melting into the Aegean. Later, soppy emotion having morphed into elation, we got royally drunk on local wine and punchy martinis. The food — butter shrimp, tangy chicken, an especially vibrant tomato and caper salad — played second fiddle to both our engagement and the alcohol now flowing freely as if at a Dionysian banquet. The head chef had wanted to congratulate us and could he send something to the table? Why, yes, of course, how kind. Then came guest relations, and another visiting chef for the hotel’s monthly supper club, more cheers, more booze. Rarely are the staff unaware when an engagement is going to take place, and it felt like we were united in our surprise.
Why are we all looking up?
Soulsetters' Stay Written in the Stars might sound niche, but it arrives at an interesting moment for travel.
Astrology has been moving beyond horoscopes and into the places we go and decisions we make when we get there. lastminute.com has even matched the 12 zodiac signs with European destinations based on their supposed travel personalities, while astrotourism — travelling specifically to experience dark skies, eclipses and other celestial events — is moving further into the mainstream.
Just take the recent partial solar eclipse, which saw Google searches spike 300% for the term in the week prior. Across the world, people gathered with makeshift viewers fashioned from cardboard, colanders, and, for the fortunate few, those coveted eclipse glasses. Strangers stood shoulder to shoulder and looked at the same thing; a rarity in an age when every family member can watch a different show at the same time under the same roof.
Writer Jade Angeles Fitton, author of the upcoming When the Sky Falls, describes our renewed fascination with the heavens as arising from "a longing to experience rapture in an age where logic and pragmatism have ruled for perhaps a little too long".
Societally, we’ve gotten used to knowing things before we experience them. Before boarding the plane, we can see the hotel room, inspect the breakfast, find out which cocktail to order when we arrive. We can build such detailed pictures of a destination that the only thing left to do is physically turn up.
There are obvious advantages to this, but there is also very little mystery; through astrology, Soulsetters introduces some back in.
Hand over your birth details, put down your phone, and let someone else suggest what you might need. Walk somewhere without researching what the view will look like when you arrive. Look at a night sky you haven't already seen through someone else's camera.
Whether the planets genuinely know what I need from a holiday is up for debate, but after spending years trying to perfect the way I travel, perfect the way I do everything, really, I found something luxurious in not knowing what came next. I wonder whether the astrologer had any idea what would unfurl the next day; if she did, I’m glad she kept it back.
How to book
Rates at Perdue start from £267 per night, based on two people sharing. Airport transfers cost an additional €85.
