As a little child I was fascinated by watching people dancing. I loved watching the lines drew by the movements of ballet and modern dancers, the bodies moved by the music as by magic, their body control, and how dance performances looked so effortless for teh dancers, and yet requiring skills beyond the limits of most people.
When watching those dancers I felt something in my body, as if I could experience the dance myself, while sitting on a couch in front of a TV show – years later I learned in my studies in cognitive sciences that this phenomena is called “kinaesthetic empathy.” I decided then, that I wanted more: I wanted to have the real experience of the dance.
As a child and teen I tried several solo dances, starting from ballet. I really enjoyed dancing, but for a reason or another, my focus had shift to differenta ctivities, and I stopped doing it till my university years, when I discovered a whole new dancing world: that of partner dancing.
As many other social dancers, I started with Salsa. I had some Colombian friends who lived going to salsa clubs and taught me the basics. I liked the energy of the salsa music, and the idea of moving together with somebody else. “Connection” was already a big part of my whole attraction toward social dancing, although I knew so little about it back then.
I took several salsa classes, I tried salsa LA, Cuban Salsa, and I even did a short course of Salsa Caleña, which is danced in teh city of Cali, Colombia, where I spend some months after my master studies. Afterward I discovered what is now called “Bachata Sensual.”
Although I rarely dance it nowadays, I recognize that it played a substantial role in my dance journey. It taught eb about close contact, about feeling the moby of teh partner and allow the partner to feel yours. It taught me the rudiments of that great feeling of connection that I still seek in my dances, that moves me to dance.
One night, at a Salsa & Bachata party, I had the chance to dance with a leader that felt… different. He was soft as a feather, yet incredibly precise. Our dance felt so smooth and natural, that I wished it could last forever.
I complimented him and asked where he had learned to dance. He replied: “I always try to lead like they do in zouk.”
Zouk
A new exotic dance I had never heard about, which sounded a bit like “ssszouk”, and whose name I would have sadly forgotten too early to be able to google it at home.
I would have had to wait months, indeed, until “zouk” came to my hear again, and even longer until the sound of “zouk” would take me to my first Brazilian Zouk class in Düsseldorf, but this is another story for another post.
Close your eyes now, and say: “zouk.” What do you feel? Breathe, think about that, and see you in the next post.
Brazilian zouk in Hamburg 
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