Dance in Poland can be as tasty as borscht. Just ask Philly-based dancer and choreographer Leah Stein. She’s just landed from Bytom 2002, a two-week whirlwind dance fest in southern Poland, where beets and dances reign aplenty.

Noted for her offbeat outdoor dance productions and site-specific choreography, the veteran of Philadelphia’s dance community joined forces with Polish dancers and musicians for a 10-day workshop culminating in a festival performance.

“It was an opportunity to wake up culturally,” Stein says. “Contemporary dance in Poland is so brand-new. I enjoyed the challenge of being so foreign, just seeing who I am and where I come from in a place that felt really different. I learned about myself, my work and what I do just by having such a contrast.”

Going strong in its ninth consecutive year, the festival thrives on an array of teachers and nightly performances that attract some 400 aspiring dancers. They flock to soak up the buzz generated by an international bevy of instructors, which this year boasted American performing artists like Gus Solomons Jr., Yoshiko Chuma, Risa Jaroslow, Eiko & Koma, Stein and other Philadelphia dancers.

“The freedom of improvisation seemed really new to them,” Stein recalls. “The students appeared open, and yet they were surprised and perplexed by the format. Even things like making contact with people while dancing and improvising felt really foreign to them.”

There was a mixture of flurry and excitement as 40 students poured into Stein’s opening class. It was a rain-swept, muggy day, and one large bowl sat on the gym floor rhythmically collecting water. Always improvising, Stein scouted her environment for sound and dance potential. The slow dripping, leaky ceiling quickly became a bass drum for impulse movement and hollers of nearby schoolchildren were transformed into music.

“It was like breaking barriers,” commented one student. “At first we didn’t know people, maybe just a name. But when we started to dance, it was like opening to the outside, and that gave us impulses from inside.”

The group varied in dance experience and age, but all were eager to learn, swift to follow and hungry for creative experience. There was a real group spirit and no competition between dancers, Stein says, noting that the American tendency to focus on individual success wasn’t apparent in Poland. “It was less of a star system, which I appreciated a lot.”

Stein’s biggest challenges were the language barrier and time constraints. These were easily overcome by her non-authoritative and democratic teaching style. “I trusted the situation. I really loved the site. I got ideas very quickly,” she says.

As the production gained momentum, the choreographer kept her ears peeled for local musicians. One Saturday afternoon, she heard two violinists playing Mozart and quickly descended her hotel stairs to the street. “As it turned out, they were Russian. They looked so perplexed when I talked to them,” she explains. “I think it was out of their realm of experience. I don’t think anyone had ever offered them a gig for a dance performance before.”

Stein also engaged a flute player and a couple of ardent Polish hand drummers, who, in their broken English, also doubled as interpreters during their first and only musical rehearsal with the Russian violinists. Ideas were conveyed through a hilarious exchange of words and hand motions.

Unfortunately, relentless rain forced cancellation of their fourth and last outdoor rehearsal. Undaunted by the downpour, Stein secured a room in a community theater. The troupe of musicians and 30-plus dancers were ushered to an indoor studio where they collaborated with impressive speed to re-create a makeshift replica of their outdoor landscape. “They were amazing. I never dreamed I’d make a dance in Poland with so many people,” Stein says.

On performance day, sun rays beamed against the sloping alleyway, grassy courtyard and dusty parking lot that made up the outdoor stage. A large audience followed the procession of dancers, while a drove of adolescent hecklers scaled nearby roofs to steal a better look. Students danced along graffiti-spotted buildings, over rugged walls, between trees, and ended in a dynamic finale to the sound of African drumming.

“For the first time it felt so good that the movement was my own,” a dancer said. “It was as if the people watching were just part of the set and I was going on a journey somewhere else with my herd.”

Immediately following the show, Stein darted inside to perform a duet with Solomons, a short improv with her Polish flutist and a humorous solo of her own.

In an exercise of total trust on closing day, dancers led each other with closed eyes through the studio at various speeds and intervals. Students swapped stories and laughed about their first taste of improvisational dance. “I really liked that the group was formed here and we got to know each other,” said one student. “It allowed us to trust one another, and this isn’t happening in most dance workshops. It was something I hadn’t seen before, and it was really, really beautiful to me.”

As for Stein, she was loath to admit she’d been so busy dancing that she missed the boat on beet soup. “I can’t believe I went to Poland and I didn’t have borscht!”