by Mikhail Baryshnikov, on his way to becoming one of the greatest dancers of the 20th century, claimed that he never tried to dance better than anyone else, but better than himself. But, Michael. I know the feeling, my friend. Although i my where the feeling is based on cast iron certainty – that’s for sure with you he never felt it, not for a second – so did everyone else does dance better than me.
I learned to dance as a child, happily enough, but the waltz and the fox were less urgent to me than my cricket bat, and they were quickly forgotten. Fast forward the better part of four decades, and my growing respect for those who dance well, along with a keen understanding of my own madness on the tiles, got me thinking. Time to do something about it.
So when I was invited to take part in a five-day ‘back dance’ last month, I – well, I was about to say I jumped at the chance, but that would give the wrong impression. I have never done anything so fleeting or so nimble as that. I lurched, I tottered, I veered, I stumbled; anyway, I accepted the invitation and made my way to Schloss Elmau. Here among the lakes and hummocky meadows of the Bavarian Alps, near the southernmost tip of Germany, the dance retreat would take place.
These days 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 wellness offering (half a dozen spaces plus what is said to be .largest hammam west of Istanbul). But these are relatively new additions, and Schloss Elmau is more than that.
Dr Johannes Müller, a theologian and philosopher, created it in 1916 as a place where like-minded people could come together to discuss the issues of the day – and to dance. Today it is owned and managed by Müller’s grandson, Dietmar Müller-Elmau, who sought to expand and enrich its intellectual tradition, especially the emphasis on music and literature.
Müller-Elmau was excited about the new dance retreats. ‘I want dance to be as central to what we do here as yoga is, although it’s different from the way it was in the past,’ he told me. ‘A few years ago I spoke at a wellness summit in Bali. “No use in 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’s the dance.”‘ Many hotels host musical or literary events. But I can’t think of anywhere else that does it in such a thorough and dedicated way.
And the point about the significant health benefits of dance, particularly its positive impact on neuroplasticity, or the brain’s ability to change, adapt and make new connections, is supported by a growing body of research. As Müller-Elmau, who enjoys neat soundbites, said, ‘It’s the most hedonistic monastery in the world.’
The main building was badly damaged by fire in 2005, but the famous concert hall on the first floor was left intact. It’s a gorgeous space – big, airy, uncluttered, radiant during the day with natural light coming in through arched windows. The most elegant barn in Bavaria. This is where the dance lessons I signed up for were held.
There were 28 of us, 14 couples, almost all Germans, as well as our instructor, Pia David, a distinguished professional dancer from Hamburg, and her partner, Thomas Kobjolke. Coming in for the first lesson, I saw David straight away. She had written ‘national ballroom five times and Latin champion’ across the country. Posture like an exclamation mark. Hair that could have been spun from excess gold coins. ‘I apologize in advance,’ I said when we were introduced. ‘I don’t speak German and I’m a dancing idiot.’ ‘No problem,’ came the reply. ‘I speak English and dancing idiots are my specialty.’
By an exceptional stroke of good fortune, I was partnered with another woman who was not hindered by a foreign language or native incompetence, Katja von Armansperg. In the days that followed, I came to understand that von Armansperg was exactly the kind of person Schloss Elmau was meant for – a deep thinker with a love of music and books, as well as an ability not only to talk but also to dance. with whomever she happens to find herself in contact.
David started us with the waltz. I thought with this one at least I should be fine. It would all come flooding back, as easy as one-two, three, one-two three. And to some extent it did. The only question was that a gentleman in Germany leads with the right foot, not as I taught before, the left. This small but significant difference was too much for my brain to calculate. My coordination flew out of one of those big beautiful windows overlooking the Wetterstein Mountains. Poor Katja. I owe her a new pair of shoes for all the stomping I did on the ones she was wearing that day.
We danced for 90 minutes each evening in the concert, then as long as we liked after dinner in one of the bars downstairs, with David and Kobjolke on hand to give more tips and moral support. There are scheduled events of various kinds most evenings. Schloss Elmau hosts around 220 concerts a year. Musicians play to stay – that is, they don’t get paid for their performances but they don’t get a bill when they check out. The arrangement seems to be a good fit for all parties.
Almost marquee names are queuing up for a gig at Schloss Elmau. ‘Forget Tripadvisor,’ said Müller-Elmau. ‘The measure of our success is the quality of the musicians who are willing to play to stay.’
On my second morning I walked to a nearby lake, Ferchensee. The day was bright and clear. Although there was thick snow on the ground and the route icy in parts, I was soon warm enough to take off my gloves. It was just the walk I needed after my waltzing. Navigation was easy – I just followed the current – so my mind was free to wander. In two and a half hours I saw no more than half a dozen other walkers. From my rucksack I unpacked a picnic lunch of fruit, nuts, cheese and chocolate, which I ate with my back resting against a pile of neatly chopped wood.
Always a bit slow at spotting patterns, I assumed the second day’s dance would be an updated version of the foxtrot, known as the disfox, and, once again, muscle memory would see me through shamelessly. Once again I was wrong. The discussion has nothing to do with the fox. He was inspired by some of the steps i Saturday Night Fever. Despite my own disappointment, my sense was that most of the group liked the discofox and it was easy to get to grips with. Towards the end of the lesson, some couples were experimenting with twists and dips and other decorations. ‘Yes, and!‘ David was enthusiastic. ‘Hello Sau rauslassen!‘ This caused my partner to laugh. ‘What is she saying?’ I asked a question.
‘Literally, it means, “Let the sow out.” She’s telling us to cut loose, go crazy.’
The dance that did more than any other to bring out the inner pigs in our herd, however, was the cha-cha-cha, the third day. That’s when we reached peak pig. One of David’s themes during the lessons was the fundamental importance of partnership, a bond between partners, and the satisfaction that can result from this. I asked her, despite her years of success at the highest level, whether this was something that could get lost in the constant whirlwind of professional life, and the inevitable pressure and stress and competition that there. ‘Oooof! Hal-lo-oo!’ she cried.
I would guess that, as proud as she is – and should be – of what she has achieved in competitions, she is equally proud of her ability to convince modern people that poise and confidence which she shows within her range. She was not always, she said, the unflappable figure with all the movements we saw before us. ‘When I was a girl, dancing taught me that I could dance too. That I was just a little gray mouse.’
For me, it all came together on day four. The tango. For reasons that make no sense to me now, I was a little scared of him. Indeed those 90 minutes passed like a sunflower. My partner could barely hide her surprise as we squirmed and giggled and kicked. I felt that we could have tangoed till kingdom come.
Instead, we had to leave the concert hall in time for another highlight of the week’s cultural program, a talk between novelists Ian McEwan and Daniel Kehlmann. Faithfully enough, it was only on stage that I realized that one of them, Kehlmann, was also attending the dance celebration, accompanied by his corkscrew wife. On stage with McEwan, Kehlmann conducted the conversation in complete control, the two exchanging recherché passages, jokes and clever insights with the effortless grace of Fred and Ginger.
Afterwards, in the bar where the dance troupe reunited, Kehlmann shuffled around on his two left feet, as relaxed and awkward as the rest of us. I remembered one of the beautiful things David said: ‘I’m happy if people leave my classes saying, “I forgot all the steps but I learned how to dance.”‘
The next one Dance Retreat at Schloss Elmau It is March 17-22. From €2,320 (£1,978), including dance lessons, dance parties, spa access, yoga and fitness classes, talks and concerts
