On giving a lecture on storytelling in Bulgarian

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I did it! Today I gave a lecture in Bulgarian at the Institute of Ethnology and Folklore Studies with Ethnographic Museum (IEFSEM) here in Sofia. Some of the research I'm doing is in the archives of this institute, so I was asked about a month ago to do a presentation. Here's the invitation to the talk:

First I told a short story, then explained how it happens that I speak Bulgarian. As many of you know, I lived in Sofia in 1983-84. Sitting in the front today was my roommate from that time, Elka. The last time I saw her, before today, was 1988! We've just both been busy, but plan to meet up soon. 

I told how I became a storyteller in my job as a children's librarian in Connecticut, and about leaving that job in 1993 to be a full-time storyteller in Kansas. There is no such thing as a professional storyteller here, so I explained that I am my own boss, with my own business, and that I tell stories in schools, libraries, festivals, museums and other venues, to listeners of all ages. 

As an example, I told The Ghost with the One Black Eye first in Bulgarian, then in English.

I explained the core of storytelling, how for me it's about connection: the storyteller connects with the story and the listeners, the listeners connect with the story and the storyteller, and the listeners connect among themselves. I talked about why it's important and various applications of storytelling, and about storytelling in the US. 

From there, I moved on to my project, collecting Bulgarian folktales, primarily animal stories and trickster tales.

Of course it was time for another story. I told the first story I fell in love with in the archives, The Wedding of Bai Kotaran and Kuma Lisa. Bai Kotaran is a cat who is chased from home because he keeps eating the butter. He meets the tricky fox, Kuma Lisa and they decide to get married. The other animals get ready for the wedding, but Kuma Lisa suggests that her new husband is kind of a bad guy, so they should hide and see what he's like first. He comes to meet them, but they are hiding. He sees the boar's ear poking out of the leaves where the boar is hiding and thinks it's a mouse. He pounces, the boar squeals, Bai Kotaran jumps into the tree in fright, the bear in the oak tree throws herself out of the tree but lands on the wolf's back and an acorn falls into the rabbit's ear. All the animals run, except Bai Kotaran.

"He cut me on the ear with his sword!"

"He almost got me in the tree!"

"They hit me with a huge stone!"

"I heard the pistol. It was like a bullet in my ear!"

They agree that he really is a bad guy. They head home, disappointed not to have a big wedding feast. And Bai Kotaran and Kuma Lisa? They eat the delicious food the other animals brought and celebrate for a week.

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While working on this story, I pictured Bai Kotaran as similar to my own cat, Frankie Bacon, who is being well cared for by friends Liz and Chris: 

I then told the audience about the widening of my Fulbright project to include encouraging a Bulgarian "storytelling renaissance." Then one more short story and questions, lots of questions. 

I've been working on this talk for the last week. I'm deeply grateful to my friend Tzveta, who helped me prepare, and to all who came to listen. While I stumbled a bit with the language, it was mostly intelligible. It was also a great challenge—and quite fun.

I think I'll sleep well tonight. 

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

Old and new

Lately I've been noticing the mix of old and new that is Sofia. It's a fascinating place, full of contradictions. Architecture is tremendously mixed, as you can see from this old building sandwiched between two newer structures:

From my kitchen window, I see an old building reflected in a new building (this was a few weeks ago, when we had snow):

At the same time, there's a modern trolleybus that goes by the high-tech audio store a few doors away:

The old trolleybuses used to make a sort of singing sound as they went by, but they don't anymore. As I think I've mentioned, public transport includes trolleys, trams, buses, minibuses and metro. Private transportation includes the usual cars as well as the older forms of transport: 

Speaking of old technology, I've been searching through this card catalog drawer for stories, which are in the archives in paper files:

All that said, Sofia has wi-fi everywhere: in the parks, in the metro station, at cafes and restaurants, and most helpfully, a strong connection in my own apartment. 

Old and new.

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

Cats!

A few weeks ago I went to visit my friend Barbara in Veliko Turnovo as she was finishing up her Fulbright. It was fun visit her and to walk around the town that was my introduction to Bulgaria in 1982, when I went to a summer seminar there. 

As we were walking up the hill in the old part of town near her house, we noticed a few cats on a wall. Then there were a few more. 

There must have been some sort of a signal, because cats began to pour down the hill.

The black and white one seems to be the hall monitor, making sure everybody is keeping up. I was glad I had my camera ready.

Here are a couple up close:

All these cats live on the street, finding food where they can (such as at Barbara's door).

This reminds me of a Bulgarian folktale I've told for years, which I call The Village of No Cats.

There was such a village, where the people had never heard of cats, but they certainly had heard of mice. They had mice everywhere: mice in the houses, mice in the barns, mice dipping their tails in people's coffee, mice running across their toes and their noses in the night. It was terrible.

One day Clever Peter was passing through this village and he asked why they didn't have cats.

"Cats? What are cats?"

Clever Peter saw a chance to make a little extra money. He went to a neighboring town and gathered up a sackful of stray cats, which he sold to the village of no cats. The people were pleased to see these creatures make quick work of the mice, but Clever Peter began to worry that he'd be discovered as a cheat. He started to leave town, walking quickly and looking back as he went.

The villagers began to wonder if there was something Clever Peter hadn't told them about the cats

One said,  "What do they eat, once the mice are gone?"

They began to follow Clever Peter, to ask this serious question. "Peter! Peter! What do cats eat?"

He walked even faster, but called back to them, "Meat!"

The villagers, though, misheard him. "Me? He said 'Me!' These are man-eaters! We're in danger!"

So they took their brooms and chased the cats out of the village. Of course, the mice came back, but that was certainly better than those bloodthirsty cats.

And now I think I know where the cats went when they were chased out of town: Veliko Turnovo. 

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

©2015 Priscilla Howe

Happy Granny March

In English, we say, "In like a lion, out like a lamb" when we describe March. In Bulgaria, the traditions around the first of March are more dramatic. Baba Marta, or Granny March, ushers in spring--if she feels like it. She's a cantankerous character, so we need to find ways to please her, so she really will bring in warmer weather and flowers. I was at a school on Friday where Baba Marta came to visit. The elementary school kids had made videos with songs, dances, pictures and chants to please her. If she is, she'll smile and the sun will come out. I read that the last snow of winter is Baba Marta shaking out her feather bed in her spring cleaning. 

Bulgarians give each other martenitsi, red and white tasseled bracelets, pins and decorations, to celebrate March 1 and Baba Marta.

Many of these have two figures, a boy and a girl, Pizho and Penda. Starting in the second or third week of February, martenitsi are available from stalls on the streets and in stalls. These days, many are made in China. My favorites are handmade. I bought some from a charity the other day, with lovely felted figures, including a bumblebee, a flower, a lemon wedge. My friend Tzveta and her children make them, just as I used to make Valentines for friends in elementary school. She told her children that only unfortunate people have to buy them. They're given to friends, family and coworkers in the first few days of March but especially March 1, with the phrase "Chestita Baba Marta!"

Here are some on my wrist:

After martenitsi are exchanged, people wear them until they see the first flowers of spring or a stork. Then they hang the martenitsi in a tree or hide them under a rock. Here are some that are still hanging in a tree near my house from last year (I'm guessing):

The red and white are symbolic of health, growth, fertility, good luck and happiness. Children compete to see how many they can collect. 

Честита Баба Марта! Chestita Baba Marta, with wishes for health, happiness and luck!

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

Settling in to Sofia

Soon, I promise, I'll get back to storytelling. There's quite a bit of settling in to do first. I thought I'd show you my apartment, which is a work in progress as I make it my own. 

Welcome to my building! This is along the side. My building is the middle of the three you can see. That's a trolleybus that goes along this busy street. In Sofia, there are buses, trams, trolleybuses, metro, taxis and minicab taxis (these go along set routes and cost more than regular public transport and less than taxis). I'm in the heart of Sofia, what is called "top center." 

Come on in the front door. That is, press the doorbell for my apartment and I'll buzz you in from upstairs. You can take the elevator or the stairs. I most often take the stairs down. 

It's not a fancy elevator, but it works well. Make sure you close the grill, or you'll sit there for a long time. Like the rest of the building common areas, it's clean and safe.

In Bulgarian fashion, there are slippers and flipflops just inside the door. Help yourself. I bought four pairs for guests today. This way I can keep the floors reasonably clean. 

Here's my bedroom, the lightest and warmest room in the house. It doesn't look that way from this picture, as I didn't have the light on and the sun wasn't shining in. You'll just have to take my word for it. I'm writing this from the bed, my current office. There are new windows in the apartment, making it warm and quiet. We'll see what happens when I have the windows open in the spring. 

And the living/dining room. You can just barely see the sofa and the large wall unit (etazherka) across from it. Lovely high ceilings and parquet floors, aren't they? I do love old buildings. 

Here's the kitchen, from one side and then the other.

Yes, I have a washing machine! There was a problem with a leak under the sink the first time I used it, but the plumber was just here and fixed it. Oddly enough, I had a similar problem with the pipes under my sink in Kansas before I left home and had them all replaced. May my kitchen sink karma be paid now. 

Off the kitchen is a small balcony. 

There's also a bathroom, but you don't really need to see that, do you? Oh, okay.

 It has something special: a shower curtain. I'd never seen one in the time I've spent in Bulgaria. In most bathrooms, there's a drain in the middle of the floor and the whole room gets wet. Not here.

It's a good apartment. I feel lucky to be here. Huge thanks to Ana and her son Georgi, who own it and who are taking great care of it (and me). 

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

Under the yoke

In this first week, not only am I settling in to my apartment and life in Bulgaria as a Fulbrighter, I'm also settling in to the language. One way to do this is of course, to speak it as much as possible, from little conversations with the building manager (from whom I cadged some plant clippings for my windows) to chat with old and new friends, to banter in the shops. I also came across a film festival celebrating one hundred years of Bulgarian film about four blocks from my apartment. On Wednesday, I went with Eireene, another Fulbrighter, to see the film of the epic Bulgarian novel, Under the Yoke. I read the novel 30 years ago in the original Bulgarian. I slogged through it for months, wrestling with author Ivan Vazov's now-archaic words. I'd stumble upon a word I couldn't find in the dictionary and would ask my roommate for a definition. "What on earth are you reading? Oh, Pod Igoto. That word is obsolete," she'd say. 

It was fun to see it on the big screen, from 1952. Full of high drama, significant looks and not a little bloodshed. Here are a couple of clips. The first is a lovely musical scene, the second is the entire film. 

Today I went back to the theater to watch a film about the first Bulgarian communist uprising in 1923, Septemvritsi, or Heroes of September, also from the 1950s, also full of high drama, significant looks and bloodshed. I may go back for some more movies this weekend.

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

The end of the Belgian trip, the beginning of the Bulgarian adventure

Transitions are always a bit tricky, aren't they? In general, this one has been smooth. Two weeks ago, I was in Belgium, seeing scenes like these: 

I had a great time, telling stories, hanging around with my good friends, even learning how to take the intercity bus to a couple of schools, something I had rarely done in Belgium. Soon, though, it was time to leave. I got to the Brussels airport early, which I much prefer to late. Here's the front and back view of a laptop and phone charging station that had a different spin to it (pun intended): 

I flew from Brussels to Frankfort to Sofia. In Brussels, I noticed a man reading a Bulgarian book and then I heard him speaking Bulgarian to another traveler. It turned out we were seated next to each other on both flights! I'd changed my seats on the flights, so this was a strange serendipity. I joked that I really wasn't following them. 

In Sofia, my good friend Vesko was waiting for me. He drove me directly to his apartment, where his wonderful wife Lidia was ready with supper, a real Bulgarian welcome. We had lukanka (dry sausage), feta cheese sprinkled with paprika, homemade sauerkraut and pickled mushrooms (picked by Vesko and Lidia!) and rakia (liquor made of fruit) and raspberry juice to start, then giuvech (stew made with chicken, potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and spices) with bread. I know I'm forgetting a few other things. We ate and talked and talked. I've known Vesko and Lidia since 1988 and am always struck at how we pick up our conversation just where we left off last time.

The culinary welcome continued with a fantastic breakfast the next morning: banitsa (pastry with feta and egg in phyllo dough) and yoghurt with preserved wild blueberries. Oh, and Turkish coffee. Delicious!

Vesko had a surprise for me: he had recently come across an article I wrote in 1988, which he reworked so it could be published, as well as some letters I'd written to them in 1989, when I had left my job as a Slavic librarian for a post as a children's librarian. That's when I first started telling stories.

After breakfast, Vesko drove me to my new apartment in the center of Sofia, where we met George, the son of my landlady. At last, I'm home! That is, for the next five months.

I'll describe more in my next blog post.

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

A short note from Belgium

Hello! I'm in Belgium. No, not Bulgaria, not yet. It's confusing, as I'm a fan of both countries and have lived in both. I'll head to Bulgaria next Saturday to start my Fulbright adventure. In the meantime, I'm in Belgium staying with my good friend Marie, who lives here but who I got to know in Bulgaria more than 30 years ago. Oh, dear, that wasn't clarifying at all, was it? 

As the eastern part of the US prepares for a storm, the first snow of the season hit us here on Saturday:

You would think from this picture that Marie lives in the country, but in fact there are houses all around. It rained all day, so here's the view now:

It's a good day to stay inside and catch up on paperwork and naps. I've been busy, telling stories in schools and at a house concert. Most of my listeners have been English as a second languag speakers, ranging from age 3 to adult. I'm always learning how to do this better, even after more than 400 performances for non-native English speakers in my career. The listeners help me by asking questions, by telling me what isn't clear to them. They also help by telling me what they do like. 

Though it has been a fun trip so far, there have been a few hiccups. As I left my house in Kansas, ready for my new tenant, we smelled gas. Uh-oh, had to call the gas company. My excellent neighbors were on hand when they arrived, so now there's no gas leak. I made the mistake of booking a school on the day after I arrived, so I was jetlagged. I took the wrong train on Tuesday, not the express, so was late for school. I hate being late! Fortunately, the teacher in charge had added a 15 minute buffer to the schedule, so I did a full show. Everybody was very kind. My sandwich at a different school didn't arrive, so a student was sent out quickly for another.

I'm reminded that usually things like this work out.

More soon, probably from Bulgaria.

Schools in Colombia

I'm home from Colombia, having had a great time telling stories for four weeks. I did 63 school performances in English, from preschool to high school, and took part in a public performance at a lovely park. Here are some miscellaneous pictures of the schools. 

This was over the door of the libary at St. Bartolomé La Merced. It's from the book The Little Prince, and the quote is "What is essential is invisible to the eye." You can see the flying dragon through the door. 

This is the same school that has this cozy reading nook.

Here is the mascot of the school, a magpie (I think) that looks remarkably like the early Kansas Jayhawk. This school backs up to a huge wooded park.

I spent five days at Gimnasio Vermont, where I told the kids that I moved to the state of Vermont in the US when I was 11. They practically gasped in disbelief. The school has an immersion program for their students with St. Michael's College in Colchester, VT, near Burlington, where I went to the University of Vermont. 

At this school, I began with the 4th through 7th grades, then went to preschool and kindergarten (up to age 7), then 1st to 3rd grades. The other two storytellers touring Colombia will visit  the high school. One of the things I loved about this tour is that I was at fewer schools, for more days. 

At Vermont, the young children have a garden, in which they plant lettuce and chard. These plants are labeled with each child's name and the students take them home at harvest. 

I was fed a snack and lunch at most of the schools I visited. At these private schools, the food was fantastic, and the kids had plenty of time to eat, unlike the standard 20-30 minutes kids in the US usually get. Here is what I had for elevenses (morning snack) at CIEDI, a great school not far from where I was living: 

This delicious arepa (corncake) filled with cheese went nicely with the capuccino.

And here are some girls working peacefully together in a spookily-decorated spot in the library at St. George's School, where I spent three days. 

I was pleased to tell stories in several libraries, including at St. George's School. 

But in the preschool and kindergarten of Gimnasio Vermont, I was in the dance studio. I've rarely been able to see myself in a mirror as I perform!

I moved to the primary school library for the rest of the performances at Gimnasio Vermont, which was decorated with illustrations from children's books.

I hope this gives you a taste of the experiences I had at the schools. Questions?

Halfway point, Colombia tour

I can hardly believe I'm at the halfway point in the tour. I've done 32 shows in the past two weeks, compressed into eight school days. It has been great fun! The teachers and other administrators at the schools have been unfailingly welcoming. I especially love it when the teachers and students are prepared in advance for my visit, as they were at Colegio San Bartolomé La Merced in Bogota. 

The posters at this school advertised my visits as well as the visits of Ursula Holden-Gill and Keith Donnelly, the other two storytellers here. It has been great to get to know them in our off time. 

I was in the library at this school, one of my favorite places to be. This particular library is amazing, with a flying dragon and anthropomorphized trees.

The children were excited when they came into the library.

For each of the eight shows I did at this school, the fabulous English coordinator, Margarita, had asked a different teacher to research me and from that research, do a full introduction. They even knew the name of my cat!

I had two days of work in Medellín, where one of the schools had a small taxidermy museum outside the hall where I performed. 

The most terrifying was some kind of a wild cat. 

In truth, that was a lovely school, where the (mostly) girls were excellent listeners. They sent up a collective "Awwww," when my puppet Peeps and the baby came out of the puppet bag. 

Here are some children from a different school in Medellín, waiting for their schoolmates and ready for the show to begin.

They are lucky enough to go to a school that has its own stream and also that backs up to a forest. 

That's the news for now. More soon!

First post from Bogotá

On Friday, I arrived in Bogotá, Colombia, for a four-week tour, during which I'll be telling stories in schools for kids who are learning English. I've got three days to adjust to the elevation before the school visits begin. I also need to adjust to the idea of being here. Usually, when I've done DreamOn Production Tours, I've focused solely on the trip. This time, because the tour is sandwiched between two trips to Bulgaria, my attention has been split. I'm here, now, though, and am ready to dive in.

The picture above is of my tour manager, Sofi, and me in the square near our temporary homes. We're staying in lovely apartments in La Candelaria, a beautiful old neighborhood.

The building style is Colonial, with tiled roofs, bright colors and heavy doors.

Just inside this door is an atrium, which leads into a long hallway. The atrium and some of the hallway are open to the sky.

Sofi's apartment is upstairs, I thought my blacksmith sister-in-law Kate might be interested in the railing.

To get to my rooms, I pass through a second plant-filled atrium. This picture is taken from above, up the stairs near a little rooftop balcony. 

Even the plain hallway is pretty! Just outside my door is this wall niche with a lovely plant. 

It's a studio apartment, so the bedroom is connected to the sitting room, which is connected to the small kitchen. These are turmeric colored, while the bathroom is the color of Dijon mustard (not as bright as yellow mustard). 

There's a grill on the window, so the picture I tried to take didn't quite come out. Here it is anyway:

Tiled roofs with some modern buildings in the background, and best of all, a view of Cerro Monserrate. I'm hoping to go to the top of this hill (cerro=hill) tomorrow, if the line for the cable car isn't as long as it was today and if the weather is clear. I took that picture yesterday, when it was cloudy. Today was lovely, sunny all afternoon and warm. 

More to come!

Happy October!

I promised more pictures of Bulgaria in this post, but those will have to wait until I go back for the Fulbright in February. I'm currently preparing for four weeks of storytelling to kids who are learning English in Colombia. Look for pictures from that South American tour in the next posts.

Yesterday I had a fantastic time in Clay Center and Wakefield, KS doing three performances for elementary school students. The kids in the first two schools had never seen me, but the fourth and fifth graders (9-10 year olds) remembered me from three years ago. No, not true. They didn't necessarily remember me, but when I pulled Trixie out of the bag, they knew her, and when I reminded them of The Ghost with the One Black Eye, they cheered. If there is one story for which I'm known, this is it. It works all year, not just in October, but as long as we're in the lead-up to Halloween, here it is, yet again.

And if you're interested in how to tell funny-scary campfire tales, check out this blog post from 2009 (on my old blog). 

Happy October!

Fulbright International Summer Institute Miscellany

To whet your appetite for more pictures, here's Alexander Nevsky Cathedral in downtown Sofia. When I flew in, I saw the gold of the domes glinting in the sun from the plane. 

First, a little more about the Fulbright International Summer Institute (and please note the disclaimer at the bottom of this blog). This summer institute is a unique project run by the Bulgarian Fulbright Commission, in partnership with Sofia University. This was the 13th year for FISI. The Bulgarian Fulbright Commision received a Fulbright Innovator Award for FISI in 2010. It's kind of a big deal.

So the question I've been hearing lately is "Were all the participants Fulbright scholars?" 

No. In order to answer the question, I have to explain about Fulbright scholars in Bulgaria. There are Fulbright Senior Scholars (I'm one) who do research and/or teach for five months.There are graduate student Fulbrighters, who do research and/or teach for ten months. There are English Teaching Assistants, who spend ten months teaching in Bulgarian high schools.

Nine of us at FISI fit these categories. The other 100+ FISI participants were American, Bulgarian, Dutch, German, Russian, Pakistani, Indian, Azerbaijani, Greek, Italian, Kosovan and Slovakian. Included were PhD. students at Sofia University, undergraduates from the US, people just interested in the course offerings. The classes were taught in English, by instructors from several countries. It was a wonderful mix of cultures, rich and satisfying.

Now let's move on to pictures. 

We stayed at this incredible hotel out in the country, RIU Pravets, about 50 minutes from Sofia. On the other side of the hotel was this small lake. 

The hills reminded me of Vermont. The hotel was a short walk from the town of Pravets, best known as the hometown of Todor Zhivkov, who had the distinction of being the longest-ruling dictator in the Eastern Bloc. There's a statue of him in town still.

On one of our walks to town we came across this candy stand on the street, with an orange awning that tinted all the wares. This is mostly Turkish Delight.

And lest you think that it was all candy, here's a picture of breakfast on the last day. Yoghurt with muesli, cucumbers, feta, roasted tomato with cheese, dates and a chunk of honeycomb. This was the only day when honeycomb was available, hung on a frame right at the breakfast bar. Delicious! Just out of the picture is my cup of double espresso.

And did we do nothing but eat and lounge by the lake? In fact, I had five hours of class each day. I took Bulgaria in Literature and Film, Peace and Conflict Resolution, Project Writing and Project Management. I took part of a class on negotiation and part of a class on globalization, education and cultural diplomacy. The classes were interesting, of course, but I learned quite a lot from sitting at the dining room table or walking into town or hanging out during break time, chatting with the other participants and instructors.

And was this worthwhile for my larger Fulbright? YES! I got to know the wonderful people at the Fulbright Commission and the other Fulbrighters, got answers to some of my pressing visa questions, talked about strategies for finding apartments, buying phones and other practical matters. I made friends with participants who live in Sofia, so I won't feel completely alone when I arrive in February. As I mentioned in the last post, I've already said yes to several performances. I'm also thinking about starting a writing group when I'm there. 

Here is Dr. Julia Stefanova, the Director of the Bulgarian Fulbright Commission, kicking us out of the FISI Garden of Eden with a wink and a smile at the final ceremony. We went on to the farewell party, which included plenty of dancing.

It was a gray morning as we rode the bus back to Sofia, having had a sparklingly wonderful time at FISI.

More Bulgaria pictures in the next blog post. 

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

Storytelling at FISI

I didn't intend to tell stories at the Fulbright International Summer Institute in Pravets, Bulgaria. True, I'm always ready to tell stories, but I didn't go with that idea. I took a couple of puppets, on the chance I might need them, but that's something I do whenever I travel. Hmm, now this sounds like a case of "I just happened to have brought my sheet music..." 

On the first evening, a couple of the American students who had heard me introduce myself waved me over to their dinner table. "Would you tell some stories?"  I promised a performance outside the next evening. We began to spread the word. 

I found a little tower as a backdrop, with a wall for seats. By the end of the performance, there were around 20 listeners. I told a mix of stories, from the old favorite Ghost with the One Black Eye to The Twist-Mouth Family to Blood (a piece of personal fiction with an embedded Bulgarian folktale). It seems this last was the siren song for the mosquitoes, as they chased us inside. 

The response to the stories was good, but because many people hadn't heard about the performance, I got more requests. For the second show, I chose Sunday morning at 11.

There were around fifteen listeners. I mixed it up, with the South African folktale Unanana and the Elephant, The Crooked Little Finger by Philippa Pearce, The Portraits (another piece of personal fiction) and Marina, a story I wrote in the voice of a Bulgarian woman in 1986 in NYC. I was nervous about it, anxious that the Bulgarian listeners understand that I tell it with great respect for Bulgaria and Bulgarians.

On Sunday evening, there were new arrivals to FISI. Some of these asked if I would do another performance. I set up a Thursday evening show, after supper, which had another twenty or so listeners. We were indoors, in a lounge a floor above the lobby. It was loud and a little challenging to perform in the space, but fun.

Because there were three listeners who specifically wanted to hear stories for young children, I began with The Gunniwolf, but then shifted gears to the gruesome Bluebeard variant, Mr. Fox. I also told The Great Sharp Scissors by Philippa Pearce and a few others. Some of the University of Michigan undergrads were there, at first doubtful and then completely engaged. Two of them afterwards asked for tips on doing presentations. 

I thought that was it. On Friday, people kept apologizing that they hadn't been able to come, as they were finishing projects for the last day of classes. I offered to tell one story at the final party, but there wasn't a good time or place for that. The music was playing and it was time to dance. Afterwards, back at the hotel, I was asked again. I told a short one, The Porcelain Man, a love story by Richard Kennedy. 

There were a couple of other times I performed: I went into the Bulgarian class for beginners twice, once with my puppets and once to tell a Bulgarian folktale. I practiced it in advance with Stefka, the teacher, to get the tenses right. (This picture is of that class. The baby showed up for the photo, asking for her "biba," also known as her binky.)

So I didn't intend to perform at FISI and did only in response to requests. All the same, I had a good time sharing the stories in my head. 

Thanks to Megan Lueneberg, Kalina Georgieva and Rada Kaneva for pictures.

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

On my way to Bulgaria

 I'm taking a break from obsessively packing, unpacking and repacking for my short trip to Bulgaria. This is for the Fulbright International Summer Institute, not the larger Fulbright which will take place next February-June. For the current trip, I'll be gone for a little over two weeks. I'll be outside of Sofia for most of this first trip, but will live in the city on the Fulbright. Thank you to everybody who has supported me emotionally, financially and physically.

Along with the baggage preparations, I'm making sure the house is okay for my house sitter, paying all my bills, doing laundry and pacing. I might need to go for a swim to get rid of some of this excess energy. 

I'm tremendously happy that I'm going on this trip. I just found this music video with views of Sofia, reflecting my mood. 

Goldie

Don't worry, this isn't going to become the story poem blog. I'm on a roll, though, so here's the second in my series. Story poems don't have to be only about familiar folktales. For me, this was a natural jumping-off point. 

Jessie Wilcox Smith, Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Goldie

 She saw them go out,

Bumbling, mumbling, stumbling.

Took a gamble.

What it would be like

To live another life?

Not tall, blonde and angry,

But short, dark and─

Hungry.

For porridge, clawmarks and all

For marriage and children or none.

Honey, sugar, sweetie.

Satisfied.

Dawdle into the den

Crochet hook near the ladderback,

Fishbones under the rocker,

Jug of mead by the recliner.

Relaxed.

Clamber up scarred stairs,

Drifts of fur, scuffed treads

Past the clawfoot.

To the bedrooms.

Mothballs and cedar.

Futon, feather, trundle,

Bundle

of

dreams…

Exit, pursued by a bear.

©Priscilla Howe 2014

Comments? Which familiar stories would you like to see a poem about?

Story poems

I've got a new rabbit trail I'm following these days. I love that my work allows me to do this. I'm playing with story poems, leading to a residency with third through fifth graders (ages 8-10) that will take place this fall. What's a story poem? Exactly what you'd think, a poem that tells a story. Have I ever written a story poem? Not that I can remember. One of my goals, in preparation for this residency, is to write one narrative poem each week. I'll also be looking at advice on teaching poetry to kids, which I'll meld with my own teaching techniques, honed for the last 25+ years.

Here's the first one:  

Little Red Riding Hood, by Jessie Wilcox Smith, 1

If Little Red Had Followed Her Intuition

Feet tap,
tappity tap

Down the street.

Crack, back,Wolf pack.

Wait.

There—By the wall.

Skinny, tall

Whiskers twitch.

Sharp teeth.

Pants sag.

White tee.

Dirty paws.

Nothing to do.

Nothing to be.

Nothing to lose.

"Nice hoodie!"

Look away.

"What's the matter?

Cat got your tongue?”

Head shake.

“I’m not the bad guy.

Just looking for fun.

”Run, run!

Fly, fly!

to the gate

to the steps

to the door

find the key

"Gran, it's me!"

Wham, slam

Safe.

©2014 Priscilla Howe

I'll keep you posted on how this project develops. Suggestions?

Five top tips for beginning storytellers

Doesn't Frankie look wise? 

Today I answered an e-mail from a fairly new storyteller, asking for advice. It occurred to me to post my top five tips for beginners. I've posted these in other forms in the past, but never as succinctly. 

• Only tell stories you like. To me, that's the one big rule. All the rest are just suggestions.
• Tell, tell, tell. You'll learn and improve the more you do it. As storyteller Papa Joe says, "If you want to be a storyteller, tell stories. If you want to be a better storyteller, tell more stories."
• Listen, listen, listen. Go hear as many storytellers as you can, so you can get an idea of which styles you like and which you don't. 
• Find your own voice. In the beginning, we all imitate other tellers, but as you mature, your best work will be in your voice, not an imitation.
• In the beginning especially, don't be too concerned about building a large repertoire. It's better to learn one story a year than to have fifty half-baked stories.

Oh, wait, there's one more...Have fun!  

Storytelling keynote speeches

I couldn't help myself—I had to throw in this visual pun. And no, that's not really the key to the city of Varna, Bulgaria, just a corkscrew made to look like a key. 

From time to time, I'm invited to give keynote speeches. What is key in a keynote? Here are a few things off the top of my head: knowing what the organization stands for, what the organizers want, and how storytelling fits in, finding points of connection with the listeners, being relaxed so the audience can listen easily, remaining both friendly and professional, staying within the time frame, choosing appropriate stories, and serving the whole experience up with a generous dollop of good humor. Hmm, this list applies to performances in general.

In the past year, I've given three keynotes. Because I tailor each keynote to the group in front of me, these were three very different presentations:

A keynote for early childhood educators was a mixture of why and how to tell stories and use puppets with young children, along with story stretches thrown in for good measure. I had ninety minutes to bring the listeners into the world of story and puppets. This was a keynote/workshop, with lots of audience participation.

In a talk for the Kansas Museums Association I encouraged museum curators to connect with their visitors through stories. I told some of my polished performance pieces as well as short snippets about story-filled museum visits.

My keynote for The Whole Person, an organization that helps people with disabilities live independently and fully, was a thank-you for volunteers. My goal was to remind the audience that we connect through our stories. Between my own stories I coaxed the audience into telling stories to each other. After suggesting that they continue to tell their stories after the talk, I then finished with a funny story. 

Each of these keynotes had its own flavor, but the main dish was story.

Looking for an interesting, fun and engaging keynote? Shoot me an e-mail! 

Bringing old stories to light

[This blog post was first published on the National Storytelling Network blog in May 2014]

What is that? See it, down there, under ages of dust and grime, just a glint of gold? Pick it up, use your shirttail to wipe it off. Wow! What a marvel! Needs a bit of cleaning, polishing, maybe a small repair or two, but it’s all there, a new story from the depths of tradition.

I’ve found great satisfaction in bringing old stories to light, specifically (though not limited to) long-form traditional stories. I started with Tristan and Iseult, not a terribly obscure story but one that is rarely told. In a remainder bin at a bookstore, I’d found a paperback edition by Joseph Bédier. One day while casting about in my office for a new story to tell, I picked it up and read it in one gulp.

Despite an archaic quality to the written language, I fell in love with this epic tale of good luck, bad choices, giants, dragons, fools, betrayal and of course, Romance. Call me fickle, but I later fell in love with another Medieval tale, Queen Berta and King Pippin, and now have a dalliance with Amleth, better known to audiences since the 1590s as Hamlet.

Falling in love with the story, though, is only the first step. From there, we have to go farther, to create a story worth telling and worth hearing. Long-form traditional stories, generally at least an hour long and sometimes much longer, can be a rewarding challenge.

How do you tackle a long traditional story? What are the cultural considerations? How do you craft the language for modern audiences without jarring them or boring them? What do you do with conflicting versions? How do you practice the story? How do you break the work into manageable bits? How do you find the stamina for the performance? Where are the venues for stories like this? Will people really listen? What works? Those are questions we’ll consider in my workshop this summer at the National Storytelling Network Conference in Phoenix, Bringing Old Tales to Light: Long-Form Traditional Stories.

Many years ago, Liz Warren, Olga Loya and I started Going Deep, the long traditional storytelling retreat, because we wanted to tell long-form stories and play with the questions they raise. We found many storytellers who yearned to tell and hear this kind of deep story, but didn’t know where to start. We found storytellers who already tell long traditional tales and wanted a place to perform them and to talk about the process. We can’t cram an entire retreat into a workshop session, but we can at least catch a glimpse of that gold under the dust and grime. Hope to see you in Arizona!