How Zouk Accidentally Took Over My Life

This wasn’t the plan. Not even close.

If you told me a few years ago that I’d be living in São Paulo, Brazil, running a dance school for Zouk, I would have assumed you were either hallucinating or trying to sell me a scam.

It started, like most questionable life decisions, with a trip to Mexico City. My buddy told me to check it out. Cool food scene, good nightlife. A few days in, feeling kind of aimless and lonely, I wandered into a salsa class. Just for fun.

Then I discovered bachata. Then salsa cubana. Then... well, I spiraled. I went from zero to full-on dance addict. I was taking privates daily, training with anyone who would suffer through my beginner awkwardness, hitting every social I could. It worked. I went from absolute nobody to someone who could actually hold his own on the dance floor.

For context, I wasn’t new to movement. I’d run a Tae Kwon Do school before. I dabbled in breakdance, hip hop, house. Grew up playing soccer, running cross country, doing all the sports. But partner dance? This was a different beast. The connection, the presence, the emotional charge—none of my solo sports prepared me for that.

Then one day, my bachata sensual teacher introduced me to something new. "This is called Zouk," she said. We did six hours of privates. I didn’t fully understand what I was learning—but I knew I wanted more. The vibe of the dance pulled me in immediately.

Cue the impulsive decision: buy a one-way ticket to Brazil. Specifically, to São Paulo. Did I know anyone? Nope. Did I speak Portuguese? Also nope. Did I know which dance schools were good? Which neighborhoods were safe? If the internet worked? If the water was potable? Nope, nope, nope, and... kinda.

But this wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew the rules now. I knew to record my privates. I knew to ask questions, even when it felt awkward. I knew how to spot the difference between a famous dancer and an actual good teacher. I knew to push through the social anxiety and ask for people’s Instagrams, to find training partners at socials, to stumble my way through Google Translate conversations until things made sense.

My goal wasn’t just to dance. It was to really learn. To train. To prove that with focused effort, you could come from nothing and actually get good at this thing.

After living in São Paulo for about a year and a half—training, dancing, and soaking in everything I could—I was preparing for a promotion at my remote job and wanted a space to train more seriously. At the same time, I couldn’t find a venue that had the right conditions for my training schedule and I wanted to help a friend who needed a place to teach her classes. So I thought—why not just build it myself? I cleared out the living room, ditched the couch and TV, installed mirrors, laid down a floor, added some plants. Nothing fancy. Just functional.

I didn’t plan to build a school. At first, it was just to create a space for my own growth and development. But once I started inviting people in—friends, dancers, professors—I realized this could be something more.

That’s how Zouk Refugio was born. A dance school. A training house. A co-living space. A refuge for zouk addicts from all over the world.

If you’re reading this and thinking about coming to São Paulo to train zouk, check out Zouk Refugio. It’s the place I wish existed when I first got here.