Hi, I’m Stef — account and content manager at dslx, a fully remote content marketing agency. I’ve been part of the team for almost two years now, and for most of that time, my colleagues have existed inside a laptop screen. Funny profile pictures, voices I’d come to recognise from hello, inside jokes built entirely through Slack threads. Real people, but somehow just slightly out of reach.
Then one morning in March, I was standing in Barcelona airport with my bag, my sunscreen, and a very specific kind of nervous energy. I was about to meet these people in real life — all of them, at once, in a forest!
This is the story of four days at Muntanya Màgica: the chaos, the calm, the crying (mine), and why I came back a completely different kind of teammate.
Finding and trusting each other: How it all started
Bags packed. Passport checked — once, twice, a third time just to be sure. I'd been awake since before my alarm. Today was the day I'd finally meet these people in real life.
I’d just landed, and the hunt was on to find the two other dslx monsters in the airport. I spotted Ella before she saw me. We hugged with the slightly-too-tight grip of people who’ve been waiting for this moment longer than they’ll admit, then immediately started scanning the terminal for Sharan. We found her, tightly hugged (spoiler: there’s a lot of hugging), bundled her up, grabbed a cab, and made it to the train station just in time to meet the rest of the team.
Honestly, I'd spent weeks quietly dreading the awkward silences. The kind that happens when people who only know each other through screens suddenly have to exist in the same physical space. But the moment we all came together, something clicked. We hugged (yes, again!), genuinely, warmly, and then immediately bolted down a flight of stairs to catch a train. Turns out, shared panic is a great icebreaker. 😹
We made our first train and settled in. Ray brought butter croissants from his favourite bakery. We settled into our seats, still slightly breathless, and started eating and talking all at the same time, loud and a little chaotic, in the way that feels natural when you’ve been holding back for too long.
There was work on the lines so part of our route was diverted to taking a bus, which we just made. Then we ran for a second train, and had barely caught our breath when Ella’s face went white.
“I forgot my bag on the bus.”
Ray and Ella were off the train before the rest of us had processed what happened. Ella ran back to the bus, grabbed the bag, and made it back to the train with seconds to spare. Sweaty, laughing, in disbelief — we were on our way again.
Half an hour later, Mark and Esther picked us up and drove us into the mountains. We passed vineyards, crop fields, and off-road trails threading through tall pines.
Then, around a bend, it appeared: Muntanya Màgica. An olive grove. A lush green lawn speckled with dandelions. Garden beds heavy with purple cauliflower heads and prickly artichokes, all basking in the balmy Spanish March sun. Shy geckos darted up the walls as Mark led us to our rooms.
Shaz and I were bunking together in a charming cottage. Armin got the groovy lone camper at the edge of the woods (sounds like the start to a great horror film, I know). Ella and Ray got rooms in the main house. I unpacked, looked out the window at the olive grove, and let myself feel it:
“I’m actually here.”
After we settled in, Ray shared the agenda. Four days, neatly planned: Tai Chi mornings, forest meditations, guided hikes, mindful talks, and a few surprises.
The first item on the list was a trust exercise — guiding a blindfolded teammate up a treacherous trail, uphill and down, in complete silence. No words. Only subtle pulls and pushes at the elbow.
Going up the mountain with my eyes covered, my only thought was: if I fall in front of all these people, I will have no choice but to disappear into this forest forever.
I didn’t fall. And by day four, I wouldn’t have cared if I had.
We finished the hike at a vista point overlooking the forest canopy as it rolled across the hills. We sat on rocks, talked, and then Sharan started singing a prayer song as clouds gathered above us. Something about that moment — the song, the clouds, the five of us on a mountain — made everything feel significant.
We came back to kombucha, a beautiful dinner, and an evening guided meditation led by Esther’s gentle voice, handmade healing CBD oils in our palms, and Mark playing guitar by the fire. Esther took us on a journey through the elements: air, fire, water, earth, and what each one holds in the body, in the self, in a life. Sharan fell asleep on the floor. I cried a little. Ray, Ella, and Armin were completely absorbed. Day one drew to a beautiful close alongside the crackling fire.
Three days under one sky: When the team becomes people
Every morning started with Mark leading us through gentle movement, breathwork, and meditation on the forest floor — blankets and coffee bags under us, crisp morning air above, birds and rustling leaves for a soundtrack. We came back to breakfast each day a little more open than the day before.
Those breakfasts could have lasted all day. There were gift exchanges — hats, books, stationery, chocolate, polaroids — and conversations that went nowhere in particular and somehow covered everything. Personal stories. Genuine, raw humanity. The kind of talking you can’t schedule, and one of my biggest joys from spending time IRL with the team.
After breakfast, we participated in creative workshops:
- Fiction writing exercises, guided by Ray
- Memoir storytelling, guided by Mark
- Stream of consciousness art in the forest, guided by Esther
With each activity, we’d discover more of each other (and ourselves!) in ways usually inaccessible in work settings. We got to play, create, and be ourselves around each other.
By day three, we were feeling comfortable enough with each other to start fighting over Scrabble rules — genuine new bonds were tying us more tightly to each other.
Trust started building, feelings of true belonging sprouted, comfort took over social anxiety, and we loosened up, opened up, and shared with each other unfiltered by professional settings and hierarchies. We were kids again, lying on the floor by the fire, inventing words to win at Scrabble. Which was very interesting with a team of writers!
We belly laughed, shared playlists, and sang carefree by the bonfire, without deadlines or style guides to follow, creating worth-keeping, lifelong memories.
Saying goodbye to the magical mountain but keeping the magic alive
Day four arrived the way the last day of something good always does — too quickly, and too quietly. We gathered by the pool for goodbyes. A few tears. A lot of gratitude. The kind of thank-yous you can’t word.
The drive back to Barcelona was almost entirely silent. I spent most of it looking out the window at the mountains, already missing them, already replaying moments I’d be telling people about for years.
Back in the city, before we’d even properly said our airport goodbyes, we were already talking about next time. We’re thinking Berlin? Maybe Dublin? Nothing confirmed yet. But the planning has started, and that’s the thing about a team that actually connects — you don’t want to wait until next year to feel it again.
I came to Muntanya Màgica as someone who knew her teammates well enough to finish their sentences in a Slack thread. I left knowing what makes them laugh until they can't breathe, what they sound like when they sing by a fire, and how they take their coffee at 7am on a forest floor. That's not something you get from a year of Google Meets. That's something you have to go and find together.
What I didn't expect was how much I'd find out about myself in the process — what I need from the people I work with, what I'm capable of when the professional armour comes off, and how much lighter everything feels when your team becomes, genuinely, your people.
A huge, heartfelt thank you to Mark and Esther for opening up Muntanya Màgica to us — for the food, the fire, the meditations, the guitar, and for making us feel so completely at home in their corner of the mountains. If you're building a remote team and wondering whether an offsite is worth it: it is. And this is the place to do it.
Until then: Google Meet, Slack, and the memory of a bonfire in the Spanish mountains keeping us together at dslx.
