Mikhail Baryshnikov claimed that on his way to becoming one of the greatest dancers of the 20th century, he never tried to dance better than anyone else, only better than himself. Oh, Michail. I know the feeling, dear fellow. Although indoors Mine In that case, the feeling is based on rock-solid certainty - and that is certainly true you never felt, not for a nanosecond - that everyone else do dance better than me.
Fortunately, I learned to dance as a child, but the waltz and the foxtrot were less urgent for me than my cricket bat, and quickly forgotten. Fast forward the best part of four decades, and my growing admiration for those who dance well, combined with an unbearable sense of my own weirdness on the tiles, got me thinking. Time to do something about it.
So when I was invited to a five-day "dance retreat" last month, I wanted to - well, I wanted to say I jumped at the opportunity, but that would give the wrong impression. I didn't do anything as smoothly or as flexibly as that. I swayed, I staggered, I swerved, I stumbled; Anyway, I accepted the invitation and made my way to Schloss Elmau. Here, amid the lakes and hilly meadows of the Bavarian Alps, near the southernmost tip of Germany, the dance retreat would take place.
Today, Schloss Elmau is best known for hosting not one but two G7 summits, in 2015 and 2022, and for its extensive, state-of-the-art, world-class wellness offering (half a dozen spas plus what is supposedly the largest hammam west of Istanbul). But these are relatively recent additions, and Schloss Elmau has more to offer than that.
It was founded in 1916 by Dr. Johannes Müller, a theologian and philosopher, as a place where like-minded people could go to discuss the issues of the day - and to dance. Today it is owned and managed by Müller's grandson, Dietmar Müller-Elmau, who has sought to expand and enrich the intellectual tradition, especially its emphasis on music and literature.
Müller-Elmau was enthusiastic about the new dance retreats. "I want dance to be as integral to what we do here as yoga, albeit in a different way than in the past," he told me. 'A few years ago I spoke at a wellness summit in Bali. "Never mind your expensive creams and lotions and all that other stuff," I said. "There is only one treatment that has been scientifically proven to have a regenerative effect on the human brain. And that is dance."' Many hotels organize musical or literary events. But I can't think of any other place that does that so thoroughly and committedly.
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And the point about the remarkable health benefits of dance, especially its positive impact on neuroplasticity, or the brain's ability to change, adapt and form new connections, is borne out by a growing body of research. As Müller-Elmau, who has a talent for neat soundbites, put it: "It's the most hedonistic monastery in the world."
The main building was severely damaged by fire in 2005, but the famous concert hall on the first floor was spared. It is a beautiful space - large, airy, uncluttered, radiant during the day and natural light pouring in through the arched windows. The most elegant barn in Bavaria. This is where the dance classes I had signed up for took place.
There were 28 of us, 14 couples, almost all German, plus our instructor, Pia David, an eminent professional dancer from Hamburg, and her partner, Thomas Kobjolke. When I arrived for the first lesson, I immediately saw David. She had "five-time National Ballroom and Latin Champion" written across her face. Attitude like an exclamation point. Hair that may have been spun from surplus gold medals. "I apologize in advance," I said when we were introduced. "I don't speak German and I'm a dancing idiot." "No problem," was the answer. "I speak English and dancing idiots are my specialty."
By an extraordinary stroke of luck, I found myself partnered with another woman for whom neither a foreign language nor the incompetence of her native language posed an obstacle, Katja von Armansperg. In the days that followed, I realized that Von Armansperg was exactly the kind of person Schloss Elmau was intended for: a deep thinker with a love of music and books, and who could not only talk, but also dance. whoever she comes into contact with.
David started us off with the waltz. I thought at least this one would be okay. It would all flow back, as easily as one-two-three, one-two-three. And to some extent that happened. The only problem was that in Germany a gentleman leads with the right foot, and not, as I had previously been taught, with the left foot. This small but significant difference was too big for my brain to calculate. My coordination flew out of one of those big, beautiful windows high above the Wetterstein Mountains. Poor Katja. I owe her a new pair of shoes for all the stomping I did on the shoes she wore that day.
We danced for ninety minutes every afternoon in the concert hall, then for as long as we wanted after dinner in one of the bars downstairs, with David and Kobjolke on hand to provide further tips and moral support. Most evenings there are planned events of various kinds. Schloss Elmau organizes approximately 220 concerts every year. Musicians play to stay - meaning they don't get paid for their performances, but they also don't receive a bill when they check out. The arrangement appears to be a good one for all parties.
Big names are almost lining up for a performance at Schloss Elmau. "Forget Tripadvisor," Müller-Elmau said. "The caliber of musicians willing to play to stay is the measure of our success."
On my second morning I walked to a nearby lake, Ferchensee. The day was bright and clear. Although there was deep snow on the ground and some parts were freezing, I was soon warm enough to take off my gloves. It was just the walk I needed after my wobble with the waltz. Navigation was easy - I just followed a flow - so my thoughts were free to wander. In two and a half hours I saw no more than six other hikers. From my backpack I grabbed a picnic lunch of fruit, nuts, cheese and chocolate, which I ate with my back against a pile of neatly chopped wood.
Always a bit slow to notice patterns as they emerged, I had assumed that day two's dance, the so-called discofox, would be an updated version of the foxtrot, and that muscle memory would once again get me through it without shame pilots. Once again I was wrong. The discofox has nothing to do with the foxtrot. It was inspired by some of the steps in Saturday evening fever. Despite my own disappointment, I felt that most of the group loved the discofox and found it easy to master. By the end of the class, several couples were experimenting with turns, dips and other decorations. ' Yes Yes!David enthusiastically. ' Die Sau rauslassen! ' This caused my partner to scream with laughter. 'What does she say?' I have asked.
'It literally means: 'Let the sow out.' She says we should let loose and get crazy."
The dance that did more than any other to bring out the inner pigs in our herd, however, was the cha-cha-cha, on day three. That was when we reached peak pig. One of David's themes during the lessons was the key importance of togetherness, of connection between partners, and the fun this can bring. I asked her if, despite her years of success at the highest level, this was something that could get lost in the constant swirl of the professional scene, with its inevitable tensions, tensions and rivalries. 'Oooooof! Hello-lo-oo!' she cried.
I suspect that, as proud as she is - and should be - of her achievements in competitions, she is equally proud of her ability to convince novices that the poise and confidence she displays are within their reach. She was not always, she confided to me, the imperturbable figure with all the movements we saw before us. 'When I was a girl, dancing taught me that I could shine too. That I wasn't just a little gray mouse.'
For me it all came together on day four. The tango. For reasons that don't make any sense to me now, I was a little scared of it. Actually, those 90 minutes passed like a ray of sunshine. My partner could barely hide her surprise as we jumped, floated and kicked. I felt like we could dance till kingdom come.
Instead, we had to leave the concert hall in time for another highlight of the week's cultural programme, a conversation between novelists Ian McEwan and Daniel Kehlmann, to take place. Funnily enough, it wasn't until they took the stage that I realized that one of them, Kehlmann, had also attended the dance retreat, accompanied by his corkscrew-curled wife. On stage with McEwan, Kehlmann led the conversation with complete control, both of them exchanging recherché quotes, witty anecdotes and clever perceptions with the effortless grace of Fred and Ginger.
Afterwards, in the bar where the dance group reconvened, Kehlmann plodded around on two left feet, as cheerful and clumsy as the rest of us. I remembered one of the many beautiful things David had said: 'I'm happy when people leave my classes and say, "I forgot all the steps, but I learned to dance."'
The next Dance retreat at Schloss Elmau is March 17-22. From €2,320 (£1,978), including dance lessons, dance parties, spa access, yoga and fitness classes, lectures and concerts
