The Real Training Begins

     My first two weeks back in the country could only be described as a flurry of confusion, excitement, exhaustion, and growth. When I came back to Jamaica this time for three straight months,  I decided to spend my first three weeks in intense training. I started off by participating in a ten day camp hosted by the "Sopreme Blazzaz", a "New Skool" male and female dance group in Kingston, and ended with a week long training with one of my mentors, Latonya Style. 

    My third time stepping off the plane in Kingston wasn't any easier this time around. Although I had done it two times before, the knowledge I had gained from my previous two times didn't exactly help me this time around. I was just as flustered and unsure sweating under the intense, Kingston heat. It didn't help that just the night before I had found out that the hostel I had stayed at the first time in Kingston was in transition, and as a result, I had to make last minute plans to stay at a motel by myself until the transition was complete. 

    When the taxi dropped me off at the entrance gate, and I made my way to my room, I was left once again with the flashing thought of, " Is this really the right decision, Johanna?" After all, I had no idea what the camp was going to be like, or if it was even happening, I didn't know when the new location of the dance hostel would be ready to go, and I was stuck alone in a motel room, in Kingston with no food, internet, or anyone to talk to. Despite this once again rocky start, it did get better. 

    I woke up early the next morning and was able to find a room in a house to rent temporarily, last minute. I was met at the gate of the motel by my familiar friend and driver, Autoy. He graciously drove me to the grocery store to get food, brought me to my new place, then waited for me to unload my things, and finally dropped me off at the camp. ( I often joked with him that he was my Jamaican dad since he dropped me off and picked me up everywhere, knew my schedule, and always made sure I had food and water at all times.)

    To my great joy, the camp was in fact happening. When I walked through the entry way of the property, I was immediately welcomed by all the team members with an uplifting combination of hugs and  verbal greetings. One of them pushed a shirt into my hand, and asked me to put it on, and hurry since the first class was starting. The moment the music started playing, and the warm up began, I had an overwhelming feeling of joy and euphoria; so much so, that I wanted to cry. All the stress of the previous day melted away, and was replaced with a sense of security that told me I did make the right decision. That's why I was there. 

    The next few days of the camp started and ended in a similar way. I would arrive at 10AM at the time the camp started, hang out, wait around, and talk for at least an hour until the first class actually started, eat lunch, take more workshops, hang out after, and finally make my way down the dirt road where Autoy was waiting for me to take me home. I'd enter his taxi completely drenched in sweat with at least five empty water bottles, and almost always needed to make another stop before home for more water and food. Every time I entered through the gate, I was overtaken with a nervous energy, but I would leave completely invigorated and inspired. 

    The property where the camp took place (or the Sopreme Blazzaz HQ, as everyone called it) began with a long dirt road, and led to a few houses spread out a few feet away from each other. In the center was a meeting area where members of the group, family members, and friends sat talking, drinking, eating, and smoking. Dance classes were held at the end of the property in a half built house with a shade covering over the top. Lunch was made fresh every day, bringing a new Jamaican dish that was better than the last.

     The very last day of the camp was an excursion to some waterfalls that were a little drive away from the HQ. Once again, I arrived at the set aside meeting time of 9AM, which really meant we all waited until the actual departure time of 11:30, so the car could eventually arrive to take us to our destination. In typical Jamaica fashion, instead of enjoying a comfortable, relaxing drive through the countryside, we instead jammed 10 people and a speaker into two separate cars and hoped for the best. As I squished in to the same seat as the driver with three more next to me between the middle and the passenger seat, we made our way down the road. As we passed by beautiful, towering mountains, and zig zagged through narrow, winding roads, we reached the entrance to the gate. In order to make it up the hill in the jalopy, everyone had to get out of the vehicle, and push it. This pattern was repeated 4-5 times before we made it up the hill, and into the driveway entry to the falls. 

Me and the other campers getting ready for our next workshop at the HQ.

One of the many amazing meals cooked for us. This was stewed chicken ( as you can tell by my emojis)

     The entryway was similar to that of a National Park. It had a ticket booth, and a cafe in the middle with a large space for dining, where the classes for that day would be held. After a long trip, and two energetic dance workshops, we ordered. food and headed straight to the falls. As I sat in one of the warm pools created by the falls, I couldn't help but be so overcome with peace and contentment in my new home. 

All the campers standing in the dining area of waterfalls after the workshop.

My 3 Month Stay

     Upon my return from my second trip to Jamaica, I made three pretty rash decisions. The first one, was I was going to go back to Kingston once again for an undisclosed amount of time. This, in turn affected my other two rash and risky decisions, which were 1) that I wasn't going to go back to my full time teaching job I had secured, and 2) that I was leaving Santa Cruz, the place I had called home for the last 10 years. It was a rush and a whirlwind. I knew full well that what I decided to do could definitely back fire because of  its riskiness. I also knew, however that I had to do it, and if I didn't, I would spend the rest of my life regretting it. 

    I finished up the school year and spent my summer squeezing in a summer school teaching job, preparing to move, and making loose arrangements for my stay in Kingston. It all happened so fast, and before I knew it, I was on the road, my car stuffed full to my new life. I stopped in San Diego to store random belongings in my family members' homes, and, before I knew it, was on a flight to Kingston the next morning. 

....

    My trip, of course, did not go the way I planned, but it did end up being one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I ended up staying there for three full months, which ended up making me feel like I actually came closer to living there more than anything else. In three months, I ended up being in both a music video and an extra in a British movie, lived in three different places, became closely familiar with the Kingston bus and route taxi system, and got seriously schooled in quite a few aspects of Dancehall culture, music, and dance. I hiked to the top of a mountain to see all of Kingston, went on a few rocky boat trips to the small island of Lime Key, explored, in depth, the beauty of Hope Gardens, crammed in a car with ten other people on the way to hidden waterfalls, and basked in the beauty of Paint Jamaica. I bought groceries in downtown, and became a regular at Uptown Mondays, Boasy Tuesdays, and Day Rave on Thursdays. 

I left completely alive, and thankful that I was lucky enough to have this opportunity more than anything. I'll go into more detail about this experience in the following posts.