A hug. Now I know why I dance

“It’s been a long time…”. Yes. That’s what people told me tonight when they saw me entering the door.

Break

After all my motivating enthusiastic articles about how much I am in to kizomba, not needing any break, here I am! With the biggest break of my life. And not only the dance break. It was also somehow a life break. Not intentionally, not planned, not wanted, but I stopped dancing in summer, let’s just say for some real life circumstances.

Since the day I deleted all my dancing contacts and sent my FB account to the rubbish bin (sorry guys, I also had an article on that, how I was managing my social media. You won’t believe a word of what I’m saying in the end), I could feel it was the end. Of my kizomba story. I could feel even on a physical level like someone was cutting of my hand or my leg, with blood all around, and horrible pain, squeezing my teeth, trying not to stop breathing at all.

I thought I would never overcome that pain. It felt like my whole life was over.

Frankly speaking, the first few weeks tasted bitter, to say the least. But I had to move on…

And I did. Although kizomba stayed there deep in my heart. I was thinking about it, remembering everything I’d lived for the last 4 years. It looked crazy and unbelievable. Unforgettable memories of travelling the world, uncountable number of new people, and much more . You all know what I mean.

Change

But each time it was less and less… less kizomba in the car, in the shower, less contact with dancing friends, less or (I would rather say) zero festival plans. It was vanishing from my life. Each time I was getting better in terms of bearing my pain, getting used to my new life (the “normal” one I guess, like 99% of people on this planet). I was filling the empty gaps with other activities, thoughts and topics.

I overcome it.

I won.

I got rid of my drug.

I could do without it.

I never had believed I would be able to.

Nostalgia

Today I was feeling so down and tired, empty and totally out of energy, that I was about to shot myself if I wouldn’t come with a plan. And, accidentally I realized today it was Tuesday! That very day, when it all started 4 years ago. Moreover, today there was a small local party in that very place where it all started for me 4 years ago.

Suddenly I recharged myself like an iPhone, after a cup of espresso, updating my makeup and looking for my dancing shoes all around the house. I was going to dance!

It felt so strange to drive the way I did so many times in the past. I never drove the same itinerary ever again since then. Can’t even remember when I last went there. Ages. This bar is located in the part of the city where I never go for other things. Thus dancing is my only association with this area.

The place

I parked quickly, remembering my old tricks of getting good free spots. I walked in already in a nostalgic mood… Full house!! OMG! What are all those people doing so late on Tuesday evening!? Don’t they work tomorrow? (Applied to myself too)

I knew half of the crowd. To my surprise I was even lucky with the Dj. Booom… Stefanio Lima! What is he doing here on Tuesday night? Well, he is a… like all of them. I’m angry with him for our never-approved interview, but I still love him (appreciate him) for his music. TOP!

It took me a while to get used to the environment, standing a bit lost, feeling half “retired”/half “beginner”. I remembered my first steps in that very floor… and I got sentimentally sad, but happy at the same time.It was still there – this place – where I can always come. Come on the days like this: feeling down, frustrated, upset, bored, tired or stressed.

Hug

When I started dancing I clearly realized- I just needed a hug.

I wanted to be hugged so much, that it didn’t matter weather it was a man or a woman, young or old, black or white. I just wanted to feel that warmth, somebody’s arms around my waist and breath in my ear. You can feel how your body is recharging with this energy through the hug.

Now I know why I dance. I run away from my inner loneliness to hugs. They definitely won’t solve my problems, they won’t save me, but they help like honey at winter time.

Merry Christmas guys!

Here you can find different types of hugs: https://www.littlethings.com/hug-relationship-test

Big big HUG

Kizomba Local Parties or Dancing Where You Live

I won’t be the only one to say that dancing kizomba in the country I live in is not so much fun. At least in Europe. There’s a tendency not to dance with people from your own country. Our local guys hardly ever invite us for a regular dance, let alone Kizomba. Yes, of course they do dance, but mostly with girls who don’t travel that much around the world for international festivals and Kizomba parties. Let’s say, with “not spoiled”-by-high-level-dancers girls. Here they can manifest themselves in full glory, like lions – the kings of beasts.

I actually don’t find a good explanation to that, but according to my observation and the general statistics you never dance as well and as good in your own country (city) as somewhere else. In my case, comparing with other places in Europe, we have a good level. I should be lucky! LOL. But, to tell the truth, I dance well here only when we have guests from outside (I mean, when we invite some taxi dancers from abroad). Otherwise it just makes no sense to go out. I would be able to stay all night with shisha to somehow entertain myself to not fall asleep.

I’ve heard the same story many times from my friends from Berlin, Amsterdam and Paris. Yes, Paris is the same. Although it’s so big, powerful and diverse, men in Paris don’t like dancing with Parisian girls. They prefer foreigners. So, if you ever think moving to Paris hoping that you will endlessly dance there, please don’t!!! You won’t. You will become “local” and they will get bored and lose their interest inviting you all the time. Less people you know – more dancers and enjoyment you have! Go as far as possible, and not often. Control the frequency. This is the secret of ensuring yourself a non-stop Kizomba party.

In my country not-dancing is not the only issue. They also don’t greet you! I mean what I say: they don’t say “Hello”. Only if they bump into you, step into your feet, then they have no choice. Otherwise most of the times they ignore you. Even if one day you were learning to dance together, in the same class, standing in the same line, making our first basic steps.

In the end, you don’t care.

The last local Kizomba party, I went to, was a lost of time for me. Among other things, like no air-conditioning at +30 C, because of the attitude. The attitude of its organizers: cold, indifferent, selfish and arrogant. I think an organizer must treat people who come to his party the same way he invites guests to his house. Everybody! Not only those he has personal preferences to. And obviously he must be there, dancing and making sure everyone is dancing & having good time, instead of sitting in the VIP zone or dressing room, drinking champagne with his bros. Be there! Out!! Invite people who made their way and spent their money to dance Kizomba. Treat them equally with respect and gratitude.

I would have never written this post if it was a one-time case (it happens, a bad night). But it’s been like that for a long time. And I am fully supported by my girlfriends, who feel the same way I do and who absolutely agree with me.

If you are my follower, you know that I try to be always positive and write only about nice things. But sometimes I think it’s also important to share with you my frustration, to be completely honest. This will not change the situation in my country or anywhere else, and especially will not improve the local Kizomba dancers’ attitude towards me jajaja.  But it’s all about expressing myself and telling you things, that many of you know but don’t say it out loud. That’s what makes difference in my blog: purely honest independent content.

Dance friends: my kizomba co-pilot

Normally we come to kizomba world alone. But as the time passes by, we make acquaintances and dance friends and in the end we meet that one person who becomes our best kizz-friend. The one who shares all our nights out, trips, meals and secrets. We generally don’t trust anyone in kizomba, but we still open up to a minimum and stick to those ones, our Kizomba “bros”, “pots”, whatever you call them.

With my bestie it was a quick match. And this post is dedicated to her, because she is worth it.

We met at some kizomba party in Amsterdam over a couple of years ago. We had a brief conversation, and next week I was at her place picking her up for some kiz-event. I was upset and told her in 5 minutes all my life, full of tears and snot. We hugged, we had a drink and since then we were already dance friends. Today it’s her Birthday. And I publish this post to thank her for being always there for me. I thank her for supporting me in my downs, for never betraying my trust and for trusting me back. You will ask me: what does it have to do with the kizomba?

A lot. Imagine if you had no one to gossip about those bitches or those star-guys, if you had no one to open a bottle of (xxx) with and talk in bed long after a party is over? And to share petrol and accommodation costs?? (LOL). In fact, I’m used to my dance friend so much, and I’m happy she’s my companion for all my kizomba journeys, that recently I almost never accept co-sharing with anyone else. To me she’s my back in this kizomba turbulence. I’m lucky I got to know her one day.

Sometimes when I’m about to send it all to hell, she keeps me afloat. I feel safe and I keep on going  (meaning “keep on dancing“)… It’s important to have a good friend. But it’s even more important and, I would say, priceless to have one in Kizomba! Our friends from  the real world can hardly understand our passion for kizomba dance. This is a particular scene. Overflowing with emotions, we may speak different languages with people from outside it. They maybe obviously best friends ever, but they are not able to feel what makes our hearts beat so crazily.

I feel like I must present her to you anyway, as, most importantly, she is the one who gives me a hand with almost all my blog contents, the one to help me to edit most of my articles (not this one lol) checking my English and the one to advise if I should ever publish some of my crazy stuff at all.

Take care about your dance friends! And the real ones as well!! In my case she IS my real friend, not only on the dance-floor.

Mila

Now you know who my co-pilot is)