How a magical evening at Bangkok’s Hua Lumphong Station changed everything I thought I knew about aging and movement.

The Dance That Never Quite Fit

You know that feeling when you’re wearing shoes that are almost the right size? They look perfect, everyone says they suit you, but deep down you know something’s just… off? That’s how I felt about ballet for twelve long years.

Don’t get me wrong – those years at the barre taught me discipline, grace, and an appreciation for the artistry of movement. But even as a young girl stretching in those pink tights, I felt like I was trying to squeeze my soul into someone else’s choreography. The rigid structure, the pursuit of ethereal perfection – it just wasn’t me.

From Singapore to Sabbaticals: The Quest for My Dance

Life has a funny way of weaving adventures into our most practical moments. It was during my thirties, that I first ventured beyond ballet and discovered tap dancing while in Singapore. There’s something wonderfully liberating about being an adult beginner – no pressure to be perfect, just pure joy in learning something completely new. I loved the rhythmic percussion and the way my feet could become musical instruments, but I still felt like I was dancing alone, even in a room full of people.

The real adventure began during my sabbaticals – those precious career breaks that allowed me to pursue passions I’d always pushed aside. My first sabbatical led me straight to Buenos Aires, the birthplace of tango. After two intensive weeks with a personal instructor, I found myself dancing in an authentic milonga. The atmosphere was intoxicating: dimly lit halls filled with the haunting melodies of bandoneons, couples moving like they were sharing secrets only they could understand.

That night in the milonga remains one of my most treasured memories. The way experienced dancers embraced me – literally and figuratively – into their world was profound. Yet even as I mastered the intricate footwork and learned to follow the subtle leads, I knew tango wasn’t quite “home” for me either.

My second sabbatical took me to Havana, where salsa lessons became part of my Cuban adventure. Dancing in those vibrant studios, surrounded by the infectious energy of Cuban rhythms, was pure joy. The music seemed to flow directly from the streets into our bodies, and I felt more alive than I had in years. But even as I fell in love with the warmth and passion of salsa, something whispered that my dance journey wasn’t complete.

I’d actually planned to continue my search in Andalusia, drawn to the dramatic passion of flamenco. But then fate intervened in the most unexpected place.

A Magical Evening in Bangkok

Then came that extraordinary evening at Hua Lumphong train station in Bangkok. Picture this: the grand, cathedral-like space of Thailand’s iconic railway terminus, transformed into a swing dance paradise. Vintage bunting hung from the soaring ceilings, and the sound of big band music echoed through the halls where thousands of travelers had once waited for their journeys to begin.

But it wasn’t just the spectacular venue that took my breath away – it was the people.

The Magic of Intergenerational Joy

What I witnessed that night challenged every stereotype I’d internalized about aging and what’s “appropriate” for someone my age. There were dancers in their seventies, dressed to the nines in vintage suits and flowing dresses, spinning and swinging with an energy that put people half their age to shame. Their faces radiated pure, uninhibited joy!

And then there were the younger dancers – twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings who looked at these seasoned performers not with pity or patronizing smiles, but with genuine admiration and excitement. They eagerly sought them out as partners, knowing that these veterans of the dance floor had stories to tell through their movement.

The magic happened in that beautiful exchange between generations. The older dancers brought wisdom, style, and a kind of fearless joy that only comes from having lived enough to know what truly matters. The younger ones brought fresh energy and contemporary flair. Together, they created something absolutely electric.

Why Lindy Hop Captured My Heart

As I watched from the sidelines that first night, I finally understood what had been missing from all my previous dance experiences. Lindy hop isn’t about perfection – it’s about connection, improvisation, and pure, unadulterated fun. It’s a conversation between partners, where both lead and follow in an ever-changing dialogue of movement.

The dance originated in Harlem in the 1920s and 30s, born from the African American community’s celebration of jazz music and life itself. There’s something deeply authentic about a dance that was created not in royal courts or formal studios, but in ballrooms where people came to forget their troubles and celebrate being alive.

That evening, I made a promise to myself: I would learn Lindy hop from scratch. And so began my newest adventure.

Challenging Ageist Assumptions

One of the most rewarding aspects of my lindy hop journey has been challenging – both in myself and others – the limiting beliefs we hold about what’s possible as we age. Society often sends us subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages that our movement should become more careful, more restrained, more “age-appropriate” as the years pass.

Lindy hop laughs in the face of those expectations. When I’m on the dance floor, executing a swing-out, I’m not thinking about my age – I’m thinking about the music, the moment, and the pure joy of defying gravity, even if just for a second.

Building Community Across Generations

What continues to amaze me about the swing dance world is how naturally it brings together people across age groups. In our youth-obsessed culture, it’s rare to find spaces where a 25-year-old and a 65-year-old can be equals, learning from each other and celebrating together. There’s something profoundly beautiful about sharing a passion that transcends generational divides.

The Ripple Effects

Six months into my lindy hop journey, I’ve noticed changes that extend far beyond the dance floor. I stand taller, move with more confidence in my daily life, and approach challenges with a mindset I’ve borrowed from dancing: stay flexible, listen carefully, and trust that even if you don’t know exactly where you’re going, you can adapt and find your way.

My relationship with my own aging has fundamentally shifted. Instead of viewing each passing year as a limitation, I now see it as another opportunity to surprise myself with what’s possible. Who knows what other adventures await?

Why Dancing is the Perfect Active Aging Practice

Dancing, especially partner dances like Lindy hop, is more than just fun. For those of us navigating midlife and beyond, it’s one of the most powerful tools for active aging:

• Brain Health – Learning new steps, coordinating with a partner, and keeping time with music challenge the brain in ways crossword puzzles never can. Studies show dancing can help reduce the risk of cognitive decline.
• Physical Fitness – Who needs a treadmill when you’re swinging out? Dancing builds stamina, improves balance, and keeps joints moving—essential for maintaining mobility as we age.
• Social Connection – Loneliness is a hidden epidemic among older adults. Dancing brings people together across generations, cultures, and backgrounds. You don’t just learn steps; you join a community.
• Emotional Wellbeing – There’s something about music and movement that releases joy. On days when the world feels heavy, an hour of dancing can reset the mood better than any self-help book.

The Dance of My Life—and Yours

Ballet taught me discipline. Tap gave me rhythm. Tango taught me intimacy. Salsa taught me joy. But Lindy hop? It gave me a home.

For anyone seeking to age actively, my advice is simple: find your dance. It doesn’t matter whether it’s ballroom, hip hop, or line dancing—just find the rhythm that makes you lose track of time. Because in that moment, you’re not counting years. You’re counting beats, smiles, and shared memories.

And that, to me, is the secret to aging well: not just adding years to life, but adding life—and dance steps—to the years!