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. 

My Second Real Party

 Going to and arriving at a Dancehall party with mostly foreigners is a completely different experience than tagging along with Jamaicans. This is why I felt a separate account of my second experience was more than necessary. Going with my teacher and his teammates meant I truly was going to see this part of the culture through completely different eyes. 

When I went to my first party with my group of friends at the hostel, all who were white, foreign, and girls, everything was in tip top order, from us leaving our apartment all the way to the trip back home. We got ready together, put on makeup while talking loudly, and left at or around the same time we planned. Getting ready with my teacher was a completely different experience. When he told me we would leave at 2AM, I took that quite literally, and was all set and ready to go at 2:10. Of course, I didn't know him saying that actually meant that's when the alarm would go off after the pre-party nap signaling it was time to start getting ready, that the rest of the team would be there at 3, and the taxi would be there closer to 330 to drop us at the party by 3:45. How naive I was!

After spraying ourselves with half a gallon of perfume and cologne, my teacher, the rest of his team, (and his 14 year old neighbor that decided to tag along), piled into the cramped taxi and headed out into the night. I was given the low down that I would have to enter at a separate time as the boys, and wait for them inside, which I did with a little hesitation. As we walked in, I was told to stick with the neighbor kid, who was going to look after me while the rest of the group headed to the center of the party. 

Walking in to the party, I had a similar feeling as when I went with my friends a few months before; all eyes on me, entering with hesitation; nervous, excited, and a little overwhelmed. While last time I stayed with my girlfriends on the outside, observing, this time I was pulled to what was basically the outer core of the Dancehall. Just as the center of the earth holds the planet's energy, the inside circle does the same for the entire party. Dancing there, and observing everyone was an energetic overflow. I could literally feel it in my veins; the emotion and the fire that rose out of the dancing taking place in that circle was insane. All the while, the neighborhood kid, which in my eyes, age-wise, was a child, became more of an adult than me, transforming into my protector, watching over me as instructed by my teacher while he went to work.

When the party was done closer to 6AM, the exit was not as clear cut as the time before either. While my foreign friends and I made a smooth, clear exit the time before, this time, we stayed and participated in the entire post party mingling, greeting, and handshaking. When that finally ended closer to 7AM, we piled into the taxi once again to reach home just as the heat of the day crept in. 

After all of this, the dancing late at night, epic long party experiences, and sleeping and staying with a real Jamaican household it was still clear to me that I was not yet done. I still needed more time for this place to sink in. My teacher at this point had become more like my best friend, and his family soon became similar to my own, and now I knew I really and truly has a place to return to. 

A classic, post-party shot 

Staying in my first Jamaican household

 My experience in Jamaica very quickly transformed from a quick trip to take a couple classes into a full blown life experience that would transform the years to come. From almost the moment I touched down back in California, I already had my next trip planned and booked in less than a full season. Of course, this time was not any different from the last, in that the trip I had planned in my head was completely different than the experience that was thrown before me. 

This time around, I only had 6 full days in the country, which meant I had to pack even more in than I did that first time around. My "plan" was to stay with my teacher, and his family, and get a foundation in the Old Skool rhythms of Dancehall. It seemed simple in my mind, and, without much planning, I was stepping off the plane into the sweltering heat once again. Before I knew it, I was rushed into an old jalopy driven by my teachers' good friend and driven to the neighborhood that I was briefly introduced to a few months earlier. Stepping out of the car, I shed the whirlwind of my red eye flight and bumpy car ride, and could once again feel the calm that being in Jamaica brought me. 

While my last trip had been an introduction to Jamaica as a whole, this trip was my up and close introduction to the way of life in Kingston. The house was small, with three makeshift rooms that each led into one another. At least two people slept in every room, except if there was family visiting, which increased the number to 3 or 4 . The yard, where classes were held, was all dirt, leading to a pathway of chicken coops and clotheslines. With music playing at least 12 hours a day, and the almost twice a day video game gatherings, personal space was considered a luxury. Despite me being a complete stranger, I was welcomed as a member of the family. My six days were spent eating an Easter dinner of fried chicken and pasta salad, playing video games with the group of neighborhood boys, kicking a soccer ball with the little kids, hanging up laundry, and participating in the occasional class led by my teacher in the yard to a group of foreigners passing by. So much was packed in, with time flying by and standing still at the same time. 

When the lively chaos of the day time subsided, the magical evenings set in. My first night of learning took place on top of the entry gate to the house. As people in the community passed by under the darkness of the night, my teacher explained to me the different time periods in Dancehall music. We started with the beginning, with Old Skool and Rock Steady, to the Mid Skool era recounting the radio war between Vybz Kartel and Mavado, ending with the New Skool era we are in right now. The next few evenings panned out the same way, this time dancing to the steps. We covered about 20 in total, with my teacher struggling to break down the barriers of my current movement style, often throwing up his arms, confused why I moved like a "cardboard box". We were able to break through some, thankfully. I learned to pick my feet up more, put more detail into my movement, and actually started to feel the tiny nuances that went into step. 

We skimmed the surface, which was the best that we could do in 6 days, and although I wanted to come back from this trip completely transformed, I knew the depth at which I wanted to explore Dancehall would take significantly longer. 

But first, I had to go to another party...

A Quick Note at Being a Guest in Someone Else's Culture

Taking into consideration what is going on in our world right now, I thought I would address the topic of cultural respect and acknowledgement as it pertains to Dancehall. I personally operate in a distinct realm because I am a foreigner who has a strong passion for a cultural dance that is not my own. The harsh truth is, is that there are many people in my same position. Some people do acknowledge that, and consistently pay respect to the creators within this movement, and when confronted with the reality of the racial inequity that exists within the United States, will actively fight against it.

 There are some people who don't, however. Some people will dance the steps, create choreography, and not realize the bigger picture they are existing within. They will never travel to the country where the dance originated from, they will never give credit to the creators of the movement, and when it comes to a political movement, they will remain "neutral", and try to not get involved. This is why this is a necessary dialogue to have.

This problem doesn't solely exist within Dancehall, of course. There are many people that dance Hip Hop, Salsa, and even Jazz, without fully recognizing the cultural context in which they are operating. Dancehall just pertains to me, and my own journey. The real root of this issue remains, ( and is universal), which is that if you dance a dance of Afro peoples, you need to be deliberately anti-racist by: consistency paying respect to that culture, checking your knowledge, and your training, and being on the front line of the Anti-racist fight.

Dancehall itself is not just a dance. It is not just music. It is a culture. Dancehall rose from the ashes of poverty as an expression of the hardships of daily life in Jamaica. The movement is rich with history, and characteristics of the streets of Kingston. Many dancers don't only dance because it is their passion or because they are following their bliss, they dance because they have to. It's a means of survival, and a way of bridging the gap, and creating a better life for themselves and their families. So, when foreigners begin learning the movement from Youtube, or another foreigner, and then start teaching, and never step foot in Jamaica, or take a class from a Jamaican, they are only adding to the problem.

They forget that, ultimately, they are a guest in this culture. When you're invited over for dinner at someone's house, you don't just ring the doorbell, take the food and leave. You come in, you pay respect to the person who invited you, you dine with them, hold a conversation, and when you leave, you give thanks. This is how we should approach our position as foreigners in Dancehall.

For me personally, I never wanted to teach Dancehall, because I loved it so much. I thought it wasn't appropriate to teach it because it wasn't mine to share. I only started teaching because I had two master teachers in Jamaica who told me that I, out of anyone was a good person to share the movement in my city because I could properly educate my students on it. When I eventually did for this very reason, I made it my mission to educate my students not only on the steps, but who created them. As of now, it is my goal not only to do this, but to take my students there too, and bring Jamaicans to my city to teach as well.

So, I personally wanted to make it clear that my documentation of my dance journey, and my journey within Dancehall is not just a surface approach. For me, properly sharing the culture goes hand in hand with my passion, which goes hand in hand with the anti-racist fight happening in our country,    ( and our world) at this very moment.

I have included a link with resources about how to take action in this fight below.

https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co

My New Love for Kingston

Mara's class was the catalyst for the complete shift of energy during my first experience in Kingston. When I left her neighborhood, I immediately made plans for my next set of classes. I had reached out to a few groups on my own before I left, so I decided to follow up with them before my friends arrived.

The very first group I had reached out to before I left was a group called Kriptic Klique. When I had messaged them when I was still in California, and the leader of the group, named "7ven" immediately responded back with the class location, price, and what would be covered in the class. I soon learned that this was rare for dancers down there to do. Most of the time, I got a response that was very similar to "Yes, we can have class"... or an even shorter version of just "Yes"with no detail about time or place.

The next day, I called Autoy, who was available and drove me to 22 Ricketts Crescent in the heart of Kingston. The neighborhood was slightly different than the one I had experienced before. There were more houses cuddled by a few corner stores and patty shops, and not as many people in the street. When we pulled up to the house, 7ven was there waiting at the front gate. As I looked out, I noticed a brightly painted wall with blue lettering that read " Kriptic Klique". As he welcomed me inside, I could see he had two other teammates with him, along with Jay C Val, a well-known international Dancehall teacher from France. They were all training and practicing together for a video. I thought that was super cool, and watched them in amazement. When we got settled, we began class.

7vens class was very different from any class I had ever taken. He began by explaining the history of Dancehall and where all the steps originated. Not only did I learn his steps, but I got introduced, for the first time,  to different Old and Mid Skool steps. I finally started to recognize some of the moves I had seen Colo Colo and everyone from the hostel doing that night we went out. The class went for two hours, and it would have gone longer had Autoy not pulled up with one of my newly-made friends from the hostel and said it was time to go. Before I left, I made plans with 7ven and his crew to come back with my friends and get another class.

The selfie I snapped with 7ven before getting whisked away into the taxi. ( I don't know why my teeth are blue).

The reason why my friend pulled up with Autoy so abruptly was that she was on the way to another class and wanted to know if I was interested in joining. This one was with "Dancing Rebel", probably the most well known female dancer in Jamaica. When we pulled up, we saw two other girls waiting outside her house, and decided to wait as well. When Rebel finally came, it was almost as if we got graced by the presence of a celebrity. She was definitely Jamaica's Beyonce, rolling in with a solid crew, and a swag that spilled out into the whole neighborhood. The warm up was fast and energetic, which was only a precursor to the class that sped past my eyes. She taught two different portions. The first part was her "female" steps, where I felt like I could hold on, and the second part was a complicated, fast-moving gun choreography, where I felt like I got left behind at the gas station down the road. While the other girls in class looked so fierce, I looked like a tornado in a cartoon.The truth was, I didn't care. I was in Jamaica, dancing behind Spice's main back up dancer!

Class at Rebel's compound

The next day, my friends arrived, and I immediately planned a class at the hostel with a group of dancers called "Xqlusive Dance Crew." The class was planned for 4:00 PM, but they all seemed to arrive a little late. Even in the dark, you could feel their energy as they approached the gate. Class was a riot, to say the least. They all taught class one by one, and as one dancer came up front to break down the move, the other four would sit in the corner, and contribute to the most rambunctious peanut gallery you have ever heard in your life. Their addicting moves were full of energy, which were only outmatched by their hoots and hollers from the sidelines.

The following day, I had class with Latonya Style, the queen herself. Before I came to Jamaica, I had been following Latonya on Youtube, and learning her dance steps from her at a distance. She was the owner of the Dance Jamaica academy, and the CEO of her own company, called Stylish Moves, a fusion Dancehall program aimed at empowering women in Dancehall, and finding your own flow in the movement. While this class was different from the rest in that it had its own sense of calm, it was informative, fun, and as it was prescribed, empowering. The end of class was followed by a video along with our own photo shoot doing various Stylish Moves steps. Since I had gotten there by myself, she offered to give me a ride home. On the trip, I expressed my interest in becoming certified in her teacher training program. She encouraged me to apply, saying I would be a good fit. She waved good bye to me as she honked for Charlotte (her first student) to come out and say hi to her.

This was the photoshoot that proceeded class. I'm obviously not making the right duck face.

The next morning, I woke up energized for the day. Our first class was located in the heart of downtown Kingston in a sea of towering buildings with a small New Skool group called the Fantastic Steppaz. We soaked in their steps while looking out onto the streets of the swarming city. That night we had class with another group called Overload Skankaz, another New Skool group, this time, in the pouring rain.

Class in the pouring rain with Teroy from Overload Skankaz. (Don't worry, it's still hot AF outside.)

While each and every class took my breath away in a new, intoxicating way, the last two classes we had in Kingston left the real impression for the months to come. The first one was with Colo Colo, the character from my first night at the party, and the very last one was the second class at the Kriptic HQ.

Before our class with Colo Colo, I ranted and raved to my friends about how were about to have class with a LEGEND. After all, he was a legend. Colo ate from the same table as Bogle, the father of Dancehall. He walked around even the worst streets of Kingston like a king, with no fear. He entered every party for free, and everyone knew his name. That's how respected he was in the Dancehall community. When I saw him dancing my very first night in Kingston, I assumed that we would be getting an experience that we would never forget....and I wasn't wrong. He explained before that the class would consist of an hour of steps followed by a lecture. To be fair, the first half of class was learning steps, and the second part was, technically a lecture, just not in the way I thought it was going to be. Colo started the class without a warm up, making Charlotte control the music, as he danced the first step. When he finished, he turned around, and shouted " now, you do it!" As we gave our best attempt, he sat in a chair in the corner rolling splifs, and chain smoking, asking why we didn't get the move on the first try. The rest of the class played out just like this, with only a few more exclamations about how bad at Dancehall we were. In what we lacked in a real learning experience, we gained back in pure entertainment.

 Next came the lecture. My expectations of a lecture filled with the history of Dancehall were replaced by a detail by detail account of his first experience sleeping with a white woman. I honestly do think we wouldn't have been able to hold back our laughter if we weren't all waiting for the part when he was going to give an actual account of the history of Dancehall... but it never came. The experience, while it had every opportunity to be regrettable, was one of the best we all had. We had our true Jamaican cultural experience, right there in the flesh. But instead of a class, it was a performance.

Our final class was memorable in a completely different way. I got to introduce my friends to Kriptic Klique, and have another class with everyone together. In what Colo's class lacked in the history and culture, the second class at the Kriptic HQ made up for it in more ways than one. We stayed at the HQ most of the day, laughing, dancing, and getting immersed into the culture of Dancehall. When class finished, 7ven pulled me aside, and asked me how far I wanted to go with studying this dance form. In this moment of being completely present and immersed, I couldn't help but be 100% candid with him. I told him I wanted to improve my skills, so much so that I could know and dance any Dancehall step at the drop of a hat. I wanted to create choreographies, and have real, uninterrupted knowledge of the culture. When I said this he took my hand, and said that he saw a lot of potential in me to go far because my drive was so strong. He offered me a place to stay next time I came to Jamaica, and a pact to teach me everything I wanted to learn. At that moment, I knew I had no other choice but to return, and gain that knowledge I had so desperately craved. And I did, very shortly after.

Our final pose in front of the famous Kriptic wall

My friends and I golfing around at the Kriptic HQ

When I left Jamaica, and returned back to California, I had thoughts racing through my head at the speed of light. I couldn't get over how I had just had the experience of a lifetime packed into ten days of madness.

My story of my first trip to Jamaica did not start out the way I imagined. The beginning was rocky, discouraging, and full of uncertainty. It made me question every desire and intention I had with pursuing dance, and the specific type of dance that fed me the most. When it was over, every negative feeling I had felt before was reversed, and thrown back into the vault.  I had a new consciousness; a new way of looking at the world, and an even stronger passion for the thing I was already so passionate about.

But, isn't this what pursuing your passion looks like?

Pursuing the thing that you love the most is, most of the time not the easiest venture you will take in your life. I should have known this already going into my trip, because of the experiences I had in the past when I decided to pursue a career in teaching dance. That wasn't easy, so why should this be? In 2017, Jamaica was new to me, a completely unchartered territory where I knew no one. Why did I expect to conquer it immediately? There wasn't a whole lot I could have to done to make those first few days in Kingston easier, but because I stuck with it, and trusted my gut, the experience rewarded me in the end. This story, while unique in itself, began to actually be a pattern that I would see emerge in my journey time after time when I pursued the things that I love.

In fact, it came up again the next two times I returned to Kingston....

My First Dance Class in Jamaica

The very next morning after the party, I started to book more classes with dancers in Kingston. I got some recommendations from the people I was staying with at the hostel, so I felt more confident in these classes than the first one I took. Quite honestly, the classes that I took following after the party, I considered to be my first real experiences. Dancing in the streets of Kingston, I got my first real introduction to the culture and way of life in this new place.

The first class I booked was with Mara Jackhammer, a New Skool female dancer who was part of the group, Jackhammer girls. I sent her a very informal message on Instagram, and she responded telling me to come at 12pm, and gave me the address. Not knowing anything about the part of town she lived in, I jumped right in. I tried to make it so Autoy, my trustworthy driver from the first part of my saga would drive me, but since he was busy, I rolled the dice and called "On Time Taxi." When the driver pulled up, and I gave him the address, he gave me a look like I had just told him to run his taxi into a tree. I wasn't sure why he was acting like that until we pulled into the neighborhood,  and I slowly understood. ( Just a note, I recognize I am telling this part of the story from the perspective of a white foreigner with absolutely no knowledge of this city at this time. My account about this first experience was primarily influenced by my own fears, not the actual environment.)

The neighborhood was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I had traveled to other countries of the world, and seen how other people live, but I had never seen this level of poverty in my life. Everyone was staring at me as the taxi pulled in. When I called Mara to let her know I was there, she left a voice note saying she was at the bank, and would be there soon, which apparently was the catalyst for setting the driver off into an angry panic. All of a sudden, he held nothing back from me, shouting wonderful things like, "You shouldn't have made me drive you to this neighborhood", "I can't leave my car parked in a place like this, how dare you make me do that", ( and the best one I heard) "As a white girl, you shouldn't even be in Kingston. This place isn't for you!" When he finished with his cacophony, a very pregnant Mara came walking up to the window, rescuing me from the horrible angry awkwardness that was sitting inside that taxi.

When I came out of the car, she pulled me over to the side of the street where a few guys were sitting on top of a speaker drinking some juice. I looked around me and saw pieces of metal held up by concrete walls, piles of burning trash, and kids holding hands with their mothers as they ambled down the street. My mind cleared once Mara turned on the music. She gave a brief introduction, then we got to dancing. She taught me her steps, then we combined them in an amazing choreography as the whole neighborhood watched.

A caption of Mara and I dancing in the street for the first time

For the first time since I had walked off the plane, I felt like I was exactly in the right place. I understood why I was there and why learning the steps right from the source. That class was the most amazing class I had taken in my life. We were in the street, sweating, dancing to music that was made RIGHT THERE. It was incredible. I no longer felt scared or disappointed. If anything, I was upset at that taxi driver for making me feel unwelcome and like I was doing the wrong thing.

This was actually taken after the second class with Mara. Notice the crowd of onlookers.

And it only got better from there.....