Jet lag is starting to fade, as my regular life resumes. On Saturday morning, my two traveling companions and I got up at 3:00, Istanbul time, so we could catch the shuttle to the airport for a 6:10 flight. Just 24 hours later on the same day, we were on the last leg of the journey (and in case you're wondering, we're still friends).
It was a great trip! Though I made inquiries at several English-speaking schools, I had no paid work on the journey. I told a few stories to friends, in both English and Bulgarian, just for the heck of it. This was an actual vacation, a rare occurrence.
We went first to Istanbul for a few days. We easily could have spent weeks exploring this enormous and fascinating city. Of course we went to the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sofia, the Grand Bazaar, the Cisterns, Topkapi Gardens, and the Spice Bazaar. We also took a ferry to Asia for lunch (I love saying that!). Though it was not yet high season for tourists, we found ourselves constantly fending off offers to visit rug stores or eat in specific restaurants. We relaxed on the rooftop terrace of our guest house and watched dolphins in the Sea of Marmara from the breakfast room.
On Wednesday, we took a bus to Bulgaria. I had expected it to be awful: crowded, smoky, uncomfortable. It was the opposite. We each had our own pair of seats, there was a steward who brought us tea and a snack, there was no smoking on the bus (unlike the ride back, when the driver smoked).
First we went to Plovdiv. I hadn't been in Bulgaria since 1993, but I found that the language came back quickly. We visited the old city, where buildings are preserved or built in the style of the late 1800s. At the ethnographic museum my friend who is a blacksmith got to discuss her craft with a local artisanal blacksmith (many of those words weren't in my little dictionary). We drank espresso in plastic cups on the street, and tasted baklava, banitsa and gevretsi. Bulgaria is the land of street food.
From Plovdiv we took a bus to Sofia. In both towns, we stayed in comfortable apartments instead of hotels. The apartment in Sofia was not far from Sofia University, where I studied in 1983-84, and the National Library, where I did research in 1988. My neighborhood.
We toured around the city, but best of all, we visited my friends, who exhibited traditional Bulgarian hospitality. We enjoyed family dinners and were driven around the country to visit monasteries, museums, and other cultural monuments. If the weather forecast had been better, we would have gone hiking. We got to see real Thracian gold as well as archaelogical treasures from the 5th millennium BC. My American friends were as surprised to see the stunningly beautiful snow-capped mountains as they were to see the incredible busy-ness of Sofia (population has doubled to 2 million in the last 10 years). I was sad to see how poor the city looks, though I knew that behind the dilapidated external apartment walls, people take great pride in their homes.
I introduced my friends to my favorite Bulgarian foods: shopska salad (cucumbers, tomatoes, feta cheese), lukanka (a dried sausage), sheep yoghurt, kashkaval (a yellow cheese), sour cherry jam and so much more.
Normally when I travel, I look for collections of folktales. We didn't have enough time for me to browse at length in bookstores. Instead, I refreshed my own memories, so when I tell "Blood, guts, spies, and fat naked ladies" this July in the Kansas City Fringe Festival, my personal fiction will be fresher than it was last summer.
On the bus back to Istanbul, I thought about that story, about how it might be different from my telling last year at the National Storytelling Conference Lyceum. We'll see. I also thought about how I could get back to Bulgaria. I dream of going to the Festival of Humor and Satire, held only every few years in the town of Gabrovo. I'll let you know if I get there.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
More busyness
This has been a great month so far. I know, it's the 28th, so there are only a couple of days left. I expect them to be great as well.
In the middle of the month, I had a couple of performances for kindergarten, first and second graders at Sunset Hill Elementary School here in Lawrence, recorded for posterity by Bad Haircut Productions. The goal was to make a demo DVD, but of course I start thinking bigger--can I get a DVD good enough to sell AND a CD out of the deal? I'll let you know. The guys at Bad Haircut (really, they're perfectly fine!) are mostly done, but I won't be able to look at the final product until mid-May.
What else has been happening? I've been to some excellent schools, including a full day in Chetopa, KS, where the kids were wonderfully ready to hear stories. Last week I was in Missouri, first doing a puppet workshop in Columbia, then at the Mid-Missouri Storytelling Festival. The main goal of that festival is to take storytelling out into Jefferson City and environs. I got to tell in Frankenstein, MO. It's probably good that I didn't do the Frankenstein song I know.
This week I went back to Sunset Hill for Asian Day preparation, telling stories to the entire school. Big group, but I think it worked. Then I was part of the Kansas City Storytelling Celebration, performing in a few venues around KC. That's still going on--if you're reading this before Saturday, April 29 and are within range, you might consider going to the big concert at Unity Temple on the Plaza in KC. I won't be there, but I'm sure it will be good.
Why won't I be there? Why won't I be able to see the demo until mid-May? Tomorrow I'm off on an adventure. I'm leaving for two weeks to Turkey and Bulgaria, with a couple of friends. It's not even a work trip, either. Not to say that there won't be any work, but it's not the purpose. We're just going to have a good time. I haven't been back in Bulgaria since 1993, and I've never been to Turkey. Can't wait!
Speaking of the trip, I'm not packed yet, so I'd better go do that. I might be able to send reports from the road, but no promises. It's all too possible I'll be busy drinking Turkish coffee and eating real yoghurt (among other things). One of my friends just sent me the schedule for the central puppet theater in Sofia. He knows one of the puppeteers. Hee hee!
In the middle of the month, I had a couple of performances for kindergarten, first and second graders at Sunset Hill Elementary School here in Lawrence, recorded for posterity by Bad Haircut Productions. The goal was to make a demo DVD, but of course I start thinking bigger--can I get a DVD good enough to sell AND a CD out of the deal? I'll let you know. The guys at Bad Haircut (really, they're perfectly fine!) are mostly done, but I won't be able to look at the final product until mid-May.
What else has been happening? I've been to some excellent schools, including a full day in Chetopa, KS, where the kids were wonderfully ready to hear stories. Last week I was in Missouri, first doing a puppet workshop in Columbia, then at the Mid-Missouri Storytelling Festival. The main goal of that festival is to take storytelling out into Jefferson City and environs. I got to tell in Frankenstein, MO. It's probably good that I didn't do the Frankenstein song I know.
This week I went back to Sunset Hill for Asian Day preparation, telling stories to the entire school. Big group, but I think it worked. Then I was part of the Kansas City Storytelling Celebration, performing in a few venues around KC. That's still going on--if you're reading this before Saturday, April 29 and are within range, you might consider going to the big concert at Unity Temple on the Plaza in KC. I won't be there, but I'm sure it will be good.
Why won't I be there? Why won't I be able to see the demo until mid-May? Tomorrow I'm off on an adventure. I'm leaving for two weeks to Turkey and Bulgaria, with a couple of friends. It's not even a work trip, either. Not to say that there won't be any work, but it's not the purpose. We're just going to have a good time. I haven't been back in Bulgaria since 1993, and I've never been to Turkey. Can't wait!
Speaking of the trip, I'm not packed yet, so I'd better go do that. I might be able to send reports from the road, but no promises. It's all too possible I'll be busy drinking Turkish coffee and eating real yoghurt (among other things). One of my friends just sent me the schedule for the central puppet theater in Sofia. He knows one of the puppeteers. Hee hee!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Busy April
The month has begun well. This week I told stories at the Lawrence Community Nursery School (many small groupies there), at the library of the McConnell Air Force Base, at Oak Grove (MO) Elementary School, at the Village Presbyterian Church Child Care Center in KC and at two schools in Eudora, KS. Tomorrow I'll drive over to Columbia, MO for a performance at the public library, always a great venue.
I had a good time at all of these gigs. Some audiences were mostly little tinies, some were older kids.
The longest day was Tuesday. I left home at about 6:15 a.m. to drive to Wichita (around two and a half hours), did a 10:00 a.m. show at McConnell, then got in the car and drove to Oak Grove, MO for a 7:00 p.m. performance. I considered coming home in between, but I realized that I'd have only about an hour or two and I was unsure about rush hour traffic around Kansas City. I had a chunk of time anyway, even with having a nap in the car (yes, I do lock the doors, Mom), so I went to Cargo Largo. That's a gigantic odd-lots store, where you can find the weirdest stuff for low prices. Last year my friend Joyce and I found some Frankenstein boots with rubber spikes and two-inch platforms there. I still regret not buying them.
I had no such luck on this foray to Cargo Largo, though I did find Airborne for pretty cheap. I stocked up, as I'll be traveling a lot in the next few months.
Anyway, I went on from Cargo Largo in Independence, MO to Oak Grove, where I performed at a Family Reading Night. The gym was packed with kids and their parents, all lounging around on blankets and pillows. Very fun. It reminded me of how nice it is to let kids listen in whatever posture they find most comfortable, as long as they're not bugging anybody else. I do understand (and appreciate) teaching kids to be a good audience, but it's nice to let them relax sometimes.
They were all quite relaxed at the end, when I told The Gunniwolf--that story often calms listeners down after some of the wilder stories. I suspect many of the younger kids fell asleep in the car on the way home. I didn't, fortunately, though I had an hour and a half to drive home.
I was away from home for about 15 hours, so when I finally did get home, I fell right into bed. Zzzz.
I had a good time at all of these gigs. Some audiences were mostly little tinies, some were older kids.
The longest day was Tuesday. I left home at about 6:15 a.m. to drive to Wichita (around two and a half hours), did a 10:00 a.m. show at McConnell, then got in the car and drove to Oak Grove, MO for a 7:00 p.m. performance. I considered coming home in between, but I realized that I'd have only about an hour or two and I was unsure about rush hour traffic around Kansas City. I had a chunk of time anyway, even with having a nap in the car (yes, I do lock the doors, Mom), so I went to Cargo Largo. That's a gigantic odd-lots store, where you can find the weirdest stuff for low prices. Last year my friend Joyce and I found some Frankenstein boots with rubber spikes and two-inch platforms there. I still regret not buying them.
I had no such luck on this foray to Cargo Largo, though I did find Airborne for pretty cheap. I stocked up, as I'll be traveling a lot in the next few months.
Anyway, I went on from Cargo Largo in Independence, MO to Oak Grove, where I performed at a Family Reading Night. The gym was packed with kids and their parents, all lounging around on blankets and pillows. Very fun. It reminded me of how nice it is to let kids listen in whatever posture they find most comfortable, as long as they're not bugging anybody else. I do understand (and appreciate) teaching kids to be a good audience, but it's nice to let them relax sometimes.
They were all quite relaxed at the end, when I told The Gunniwolf--that story often calms listeners down after some of the wilder stories. I suspect many of the younger kids fell asleep in the car on the way home. I didn't, fortunately, though I had an hour and a half to drive home.
I was away from home for about 15 hours, so when I finally did get home, I fell right into bed. Zzzz.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Going Deep, first annual
We did it! From last Thursday to Sunday, about 20 storytellers were completely immersed in the world of long traditional stories, in the first ever Going Deep Festival, held at the Storyteller's Riverhouse in Bethlehem, Indiana.
For years, Liz Warren, Olga Loya and I had dreamed of having a festival where we could tell these epic stories and then have in-depth workshops about them. I told anybody who would listen about this idea. Last year, I mentioned it to Janice del Negro, who said, "Why don't you do it at Cynthia Changaris' bed and breakfast?" Brilliant! We knew--and this was confirmed in the doing of it--that Cynthia and Mary Hamilton of Scheherezade's Legacy would be fabulous at hosting the event.
Skipping over the details of how we got there, here are some reflections on how it all worked.
The first evening Liz Warren told us the story of the Grail. Aaah. We all basked in the warm, strong, evocative telling of a story that is so much a part of Western culture and yet felt new to us. Liz's performance set the tone for the festival--we knew we were in for a rich and satisfying experience.
After the performances each night, we went back to the bed and breakfast (in fact, people stayed in three houses, but the B and B was the hub) for cake and conversation. My dreams that night--and the subsequent nights as well--were full of images.
In the morning, Liz presented a meaty workshop about the story. Ideas pinged around the room as we talked and thought and learned. Some of the participants also tell long traditional stories, some are new to the long form, so we had a wide range in our discussion.
The afternoons were free for massages, palm readings (two massage therapists and a palm reader were there), collage, naps, reading, walks by the Ohio River or through the (O) little town of Bethlehem. Then dinner before...
...we went on to Olga Loya's splendid performance of the Aztec creation myth. Thank goodness she introduced the characters to us first. It was a joy to listen to a story so unfamiliar, so multilayered in a way different from Western tradition, and yet full of the common themes of humanity. We wailed like the Hungry Goddess, we snaked around the room in procession, we were IN the story for the whole time. Wonderful.
The morning workshop was yet another meaty experience, as we explored the intricacies of working with a challenging story from a culture most of us know little about, understanding the layers of the gods and goddesses, understanding our own layers.
More rest and relaxation in the afternoon (I had a continuation of my palm reading from the day before!), and then I told "Tristan and Iseult." I can tell of this only from the perspective of being on stage. It was incredibly cool to be able to perform this story that I love and have worked on for so long to a group of (mostly) storytellers. I felt great support from the audience.
An interesting thing happened after my performance. As on the other nights, we went back to the house. The cooks had kindly saved back my supper, so I sat with Liz, Olga and Rebecca (the palm reader) in the dining room. Little by little, many of the participants drifted into the living room. They had a long discussion about the story and about the process while we stayed in the dining room playing dice. It was at least an hour conversation. This hadn't happened in the same way the other nights, and I think that was because by this time in the festival, a strong community had formed. Also, the pattern of discussion in the earlier workshops facilitated the conversation. Margaret told me later that it was probably good that the performers weren't in the room, because they needed to explore the topics without the "authorities" (Margaret, did I get that right?).
We ranged around a little more in my morning workshop, from the story itself to specific techniques for working on these behemoth stories, to venues for the long-form story. We also had evaluations and a closing Grail blessing, before heading in to lunch. I was sorry that many folks had to leave before the end--and sorry they missed the most excellent jokes at lunch.
If you've read this far, you'll be interested to know that we have plans to do it again. As with everything else about this festival, our plans are a bit unorthodox. I'll keep you posted.
Huge thanks to Cynthia, Mary, the cooks, the massage therapists, Rebecca, and of course Olga and Cynthia, and everyone who made this festival happen.
I'd love to hear other participants' reflections on this festival!
For years, Liz Warren, Olga Loya and I had dreamed of having a festival where we could tell these epic stories and then have in-depth workshops about them. I told anybody who would listen about this idea. Last year, I mentioned it to Janice del Negro, who said, "Why don't you do it at Cynthia Changaris' bed and breakfast?" Brilliant! We knew--and this was confirmed in the doing of it--that Cynthia and Mary Hamilton of Scheherezade's Legacy would be fabulous at hosting the event.
Skipping over the details of how we got there, here are some reflections on how it all worked.
The first evening Liz Warren told us the story of the Grail. Aaah. We all basked in the warm, strong, evocative telling of a story that is so much a part of Western culture and yet felt new to us. Liz's performance set the tone for the festival--we knew we were in for a rich and satisfying experience.
After the performances each night, we went back to the bed and breakfast (in fact, people stayed in three houses, but the B and B was the hub) for cake and conversation. My dreams that night--and the subsequent nights as well--were full of images.
In the morning, Liz presented a meaty workshop about the story. Ideas pinged around the room as we talked and thought and learned. Some of the participants also tell long traditional stories, some are new to the long form, so we had a wide range in our discussion.
The afternoons were free for massages, palm readings (two massage therapists and a palm reader were there), collage, naps, reading, walks by the Ohio River or through the (O) little town of Bethlehem. Then dinner before...
...we went on to Olga Loya's splendid performance of the Aztec creation myth. Thank goodness she introduced the characters to us first. It was a joy to listen to a story so unfamiliar, so multilayered in a way different from Western tradition, and yet full of the common themes of humanity. We wailed like the Hungry Goddess, we snaked around the room in procession, we were IN the story for the whole time. Wonderful.
The morning workshop was yet another meaty experience, as we explored the intricacies of working with a challenging story from a culture most of us know little about, understanding the layers of the gods and goddesses, understanding our own layers.
More rest and relaxation in the afternoon (I had a continuation of my palm reading from the day before!), and then I told "Tristan and Iseult." I can tell of this only from the perspective of being on stage. It was incredibly cool to be able to perform this story that I love and have worked on for so long to a group of (mostly) storytellers. I felt great support from the audience.
An interesting thing happened after my performance. As on the other nights, we went back to the house. The cooks had kindly saved back my supper, so I sat with Liz, Olga and Rebecca (the palm reader) in the dining room. Little by little, many of the participants drifted into the living room. They had a long discussion about the story and about the process while we stayed in the dining room playing dice. It was at least an hour conversation. This hadn't happened in the same way the other nights, and I think that was because by this time in the festival, a strong community had formed. Also, the pattern of discussion in the earlier workshops facilitated the conversation. Margaret told me later that it was probably good that the performers weren't in the room, because they needed to explore the topics without the "authorities" (Margaret, did I get that right?).
We ranged around a little more in my morning workshop, from the story itself to specific techniques for working on these behemoth stories, to venues for the long-form story. We also had evaluations and a closing Grail blessing, before heading in to lunch. I was sorry that many folks had to leave before the end--and sorry they missed the most excellent jokes at lunch.
If you've read this far, you'll be interested to know that we have plans to do it again. As with everything else about this festival, our plans are a bit unorthodox. I'll keep you posted.
Huge thanks to Cynthia, Mary, the cooks, the massage therapists, Rebecca, and of course Olga and Cynthia, and everyone who made this festival happen.
I'd love to hear other participants' reflections on this festival!
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