Nobody speaks. Not at meals, not on walks, not at the end of a long day when it would be so much easier to make a joke. Phones go away, and so do books and notebooks for the first days. The only instruction is to be where you are.
Day one is the loudest, and the noise is all inside. Day two is boredom, sometimes irritation at the person who chews a bit loudly. Somewhere around day three, the noise lowers. Food tastes stronger, the mountains look closer, and your own thoughts get easier to tell apart from the facts.
There are short check-ins with a teacher so no one is left alone with something heavy. On the last day we talk again, carefully.
What it gives you is a reset of how much you talk and why. Most people leave less eager to fill every silence. A few leave quite sure they've been saying yes to things they didn't want.
The valley, the food, the place
Silence works better somewhere beautiful, and the valley qualifies. You can walk for hours without meeting anyone, and the landscape does the talking. Food is simple, fresh and varied, and always available. The house is clean and quiet by design, and the others there are relaxed people who are happy to say nothing next to you. Occasionally there is a small, kind surprise: a warm drink left outside your door, or a treat at the end of a long day. The food is excellent, and vegetarian options are always available.