Dancing When Nobody’s Watching

I was standing in the Swiss mountains with a view of the Calanda peak. The sun was out and music I’d been listening to for over twenty years was blasting from my phone speakers. Beyoncé sang her way through every octave while I moved to the rhythm. Dancing when nobody was watching was one of my favorite things in my self-care routine. Only I usually wasn’t alone. I spent most of my time around people, which made the moments that were just for me feel especially precious.

During the week, more than 40 kids had moved into the youth hostel on Pizol mountain. The place was bursting at the seams while my colleagues and I ran the “Longbridge” English camp. With all kinds of activities, we tried to give the kids and ourselves a great time while teaching them something about the English-speaking world. The days were packed with singing, games, and fun, and by evening I often crashed into bed completely wiped out. My colleagues, all native speakers, and I had a wonderful time, and Kate was a great boss as always. I’d been coming to the English camp for years and loved it every single time. At the same time, the weekends were a blessing. When the kids were gone and all that was left were the mountains and us.

That’s when I could do all the things I wanted, whenever I wanted. Sleep in, Netflix, go for a walk. Yoga for myself, cooking for others. I could dive deep into conversations with my colleagues or take some time to myself. Take a nap after lunch or just crank up the music at the viewpoint and dance. I could dance anywhere and any time at all, but up here, alone with the mountains, it had a different quality to it.

For a moment I thought about the disco with the kids, which was part of our program. Sweaty on the dark dance floor, DJ Rosie spinning from one hit to the next, the kids belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. And somehow I celebrated the fact that both existed: that we weren’t alone in this world, that most of the time we shared the dance floor, the adrenaline, and the moments of pure joy with others. Fun with other people really is just that much more fun. But I also loved that there was this dance floor that was just mine, where I could move outside the beat, where I could just move my body however felt right and nobody was watching.

Because dancing had always been more than just movement to me. Like writing, it helped me to process what I’d experienced and bring what was inside me out into the world. My writing I mostly shared with the world, with you, my readers. Dancing at the viewpoint was more like writing in a diary, only in motion. No audience, no purpose. I did it simply because I wanted to. Because it felt good to let out whatever was going on inside me.

By the time Beyoncé had given everything she had for almost two hours and my phone battery was nearly dead, I’d danced enough too. I’d savored the time alone and was ready to head back to the hostel, where Kate would sit down with us to plan the next week and we’d all have dinner together. I wasn’t ready for the next forty kids yet. But Monday morning I would be, already secretly looking forward to disco night

and the weekend after.