Women's Epics A to Z: Epics in general knowledge

As I was preparing for this year's challenge, reading several epics with women as protagonists, it kept occurring to me how unfair it is that most of these amazing, special stories didn't make it into the general consciousness (as much as I can tell with my Hungarian/American, generally Western educational background). Back when I was in high school, we got a pretty comprehensive look at a few of them: we studied Gilgamesh, the Kalevala, had to read the Odyssey, skimmed over the Iliad, and even the Ramayana and the Mahabharata got a mention. But that is still pretty narrow compared to the richness of the world's epic traditions.

So I put together a survey, asking people how many epics they recognized, and which ones they were generally familiar with.

I listed 50 epics in the survey, asking people to mark if they heard about them / read them.

The survey received almost 200 responses, mainly from people in Europe and North America. Here are some interesting things I observed based on these responses:

There were only 3 epics out of 50 that were universally known

As in, no one clicked the "Never heard of it" option. Wanna guess? 

The Iliad, the Odyssey, and Gilgamesh. Beowulf held on for quite a while, but then it got 3 negative responses. The Aeneid came close with only 11 negatives.

More importantly to this year's A to Z: none of the top 10-15 epics included a woman protagonist. We're gonna rectify that.

Some surprises

There were some epics on the list that I would have guessed are better known than they are. The Kalevala, for example, got 50 "never heard of it" replies, and 80 people only "heart about it". More than half of the respondents didn't recognize the Táin bó Cúailnge at all (although more might have, see below). Also more than half didn't know the Mahabharata or the Ramayana, which surprised me because I thought if any non-European epics were kinda sorta in the public knowledge, these would have been the ones. Great Chinese classics (Journey to the West, Water Margin, Romance of the Three Kingdoms) also didn't fare well, which surprised me, given that the first one especially has a lot of modern adaptations.

The least well known epics were mostly about women, and/or not from Europe

No surprise there. Out of the 50, there were 22 epics that received almost all "Never heard of it" responses. 12 of them were about women protagonists. Most of them were from Africa or Central Asia. The most generally unknown epic was Umesiben Mama (mentioned last week; makes sense, since it doesn't have an English edition). It only got two "heard about it" responses. Close behind her was Shirin Mama, which you will encounter in April, and it was one of my favorites. Also almost fully unknown was Bidasari (coming up in April), and Ibong Adarna, which I blogged about before. I am happy to report, that out of these 12 unkown women's epics, 9 will be included in the A to Z posts in April :)

People don't always immediately recognize epics

I often wondered, reading the comments to the survey, if people recognize these stories just by title. For example, Journey to the West didn't seem to get strong responses, but then people commented about "Monkey King" missing from the list later on. The same with people missing "Cú Chulainn" while the Táin was on the list, or missing "Jason and the Argonauts" while the Argonautica was right there. It seems like people recognize stories by the hero's name more so than the name of the epic.

There are a lot more epics than these 50, but people also don't always know what an epic is

I got a lot of great suggestions in the comments for many, many more epics that could be included. And then a lot of other comments added things that are not traditional epics by definition: anything from Lord of the Rings to Waterworld, from The Hunger Games to Star Wars to various folktales. There is an argument to be made for modern day epics, and stories that fill that role in our current popular culture.

Anyway, it was interesting to see how responses outlined general knowledge of epics. I know the sample was not nearly representative enough, but it was still a fun survey to do just out of curiosity.

Which epics are you familiar with? Which ones were mentioned at school?

See you next week for A to Z!

Important questions, great discussions: FEST 2024, Glasgow

This year's FEST (Federation for European Storytelling) conference took place in Glasgow, organized by representatives from four nations: Scottish, Irish, English, and Welsh. They created a great program in collaboration, running parallel to The Village Storytelling Festival with all its marvelous events.

Fun fact: this was my 10th FEST conference! I attended in 2009 for the first time. Even more fun than that, we had a whole lot of Hungarian attendees this year. I traveled with my long time friend Kata Orosz (who is a volunteer storyteller from Világszép). In addition, Meseszó was represented by Klitsie-Szabad Boglárka, Hungarian Heritage House by Sándor Ildikó, Holnemvolt (Onceuponatime) Festival by Szabó Enikő, and Világszárnya by Hajós Erika, Zámborszky Eszter, and Bedőházi Beáta. Three of us (Bogi, Enikő and I) even presented workshops. Although I didn't get to see the other two, I heard they were really popular.

I arrived in Glasgow Tuesday evening, missing the first evening's welcome events, but welcomed by friendly storytellers in the lobby of the hotel anyway. It always feels like coming home when I arrive to FEST, seeing friends from all over Europe. 

The conference program itself began Wednesday morning, with welcome speeches and keynote presentations. The organizers introduced themselves and welcomed us officially, then handed the stage over to the keynote speakers. Steve Byrne talked about intangible cultural heritage in Scotland, and the work it took to record and register traditions as such (my favorite quote: "Cultural heritage is not just what we used to have."). Dr. Stephe Harrop talked enthusiastically about creating storytelling spaces in Glasgow, and the work of women storytellers in this process. We also received a warm and friendly welcome presentation from Amadu Wurie Khan, who talked about identity as a "new Scot", as well as finding a place among cultural similarities and differences between Scotland and his native Sierra Leone. At this point, the conference program was running a bit late, but no one minded much - we heard a lot of fascinating things in one morning. During the breaks we were treated to coffee, tea, and pastries in the cafeteria; we even received reusable coffee mugs in the spirit of sustainability.

I chose to attend a fascinating presentation after the break. Peter Chand and Aoife O'Connor promised us "a provocation and a discussion", and that was exactly what they delivered. They dropped some hard truths about diversity (or lack thereof) within FEST and the larger storytelling community. The talk revolved around representation of marginalized identities (by race, nationality, gender, sexuality, ability, language, etc.), and the ways FEST and other storytelling events in Europe could be more inclusive in general - especially to young, upcoming tellers. They also touched on the topic of cultural appropriation, and doing justice to stories from other cultures - from learning to pronounce names all the way to dealing with people from colonizing countries telling stories from the groups they had colonized. The presenters didn't only open up a lot of important questions, but they also allowed time for feedback, discussion, and expressing feelings (even uncomfortable ones). The entire presentation was just the start: whoever wanted could sign up to a mailing list to continue the discussion. It was a very important session, much needed for the European storytelling community - and all the while honest, friendly, and open. The presenters held the space well. I am glad I attended.

After the lunch break there was another selection of workshops. In the first half hour I did my presentation on MythOff and bringing mythology and storytelling to new audiences. I got some great questions at the end. After my time was up, I hurried over to Dougie Mackay's workshop on wolves. This is a topic near and dear to my heart, especially because the reintroduction of wolves to Hungary sparked some debates (not to mention the shooting of a Swiss wolf by a Hungarian hunter recently...). And I love stories where wolves are not evil or dumb. Dougie led a great discussion on wolves, their importance to the environment, and the responsibility of storytellers. He also told us about his adventures tracking wolves in the wild.

I doubled down on environmental storytelling in the next session: after a coffee break I attended Cara Silversmith's workshop on environmental literacy and storytelling. Cara is passionate and enthusiastic about nature, and educating people - through stories - about our relationship with it. We got to touch some leaves and try to guess what tree they came from; we talked about different types of knowledge, and the emotions nature can evoke in us. It turned out the leaves were from an elm tree (and I was a little ashamed that I once wrote a whole article on elm trees in mythology, and yet I did not recognize the leaf). It was a lovely workshop, and great discussion.

After having dinner, we returned to the Centre for Contemporary Arts for the evening shows. Kata and I arrived early, so we got to sit and chat with people in the cafeteria - among them Ronni Gurwicz who runs a really fun podcast series, and also published a book alongside Arjen Barel and Stu Packer (yes I bought it). The evening performance I got to attend was Queens of Albion by Stephe Harrop. She masterfully combined personal stories with the foundation legends of Britain and some Greek mythology. She is a sparkling, humorous storyteller who owned the stage with minimal props - a few rocks, and a shiny jacket that transformed into various things in her hands. It was a stunning performance. I was too tired to stay for the late night shows (toddler mom), but I was happy I made it to that one.

The second full day of the conference also had a lot to offer. I chose the workshop titled Finding Your Voice run by Irish storytellers from the Leprechaun Museum. They had done a project on Erasmus+ funding, reworking traditional stories with LGBT+ youth. We got to go through a shorter version of the workshop they designed, and had great fun with it. We discussed what queer stories do exist in tradition, and what storytellers can do to queer other tales - also, what kinds of heroes and plots we would love to see in stories 100 years from now. We had a great group of people at the workshop, and it was lovely to see folklore research combined so well with creativity.

The second half of the day was Open Space - attendees could suggest topics of discussion, and we gathered in small groups all around the Centre. I joined the table where the topic was "how much can we change myths when we tell them?" We sat in the cafeteria, and we were "violently agreeing" with each other. It was great fun. Sadly, the program was running a bit late, and we soon had to return to the main room to share our thoughts.

All that was left now was to close the conference, and pass the torch on to Paola Balbi - next year we will be in Rome!

We ended the conference with singing, laughter, and gifts - but the day was not over yet. In the evening we had a gala dinner at the National Piping Centre (with some great Scottish music). We heard stories between courses, and after dessert a surprise guest appeared: a Mari Lwyd came dancing, and we all sang and cheered. It was a great way to celebrate us being together. The evening was so lovely that in the end I only said a few goodbyes and slipped out to go sleep. 

Kata and I spent the remaining day on the Isle of Arran, walking the beach, enjoying the sunshine, and visiting the Bodick Castle botanical gardens. It was a gorgeous place to visit, with friendly people. On the morning before we returned to Hungary we also got to browse some bookshops around Glasgow, and have lunch with folklorist Maggie Mackay. We made the most of our time to the last minute.

This was my second time in Scotland, and I was once again enchanted by the place, and by the storytelling community. I am sure I will be back. And next year, I'll see you all in Rome!

Storytellers' Secret Santa 2022

Who wouldn't want to receive a shiny, new, exciting story for the winter holiday of their choice - from a fellow storyteller?

After last year's success, Storytellers' Secret Santa is back this year! :)

Here's the rules:

1. We are sending stories as gifts to each other. You draw another storyteller's name in secret (I'll take care of this), and you send them a story. Someone else sends a story to you. That's it. Joy all around. (No, this is not a chain email!)

2. YOU GIVE A STORY, you get a story. This is important. Secret Santa kinda sucks if your gift never arrives. So, only commit if you are sure you can send your gift out in time! Don't ruin someone else's miracle.

3. Please observe copyright (see below*). This means it is easiest if we mostly work with folktales, or stories in the public domain. Be mindful of cultural appropriation.

4. We are doing this in English. For now. Only do another language if you are sure the person you send your story to shares your native language.

5. With that said, this will be extra fun if the stories are not easily accessible in English! Translating something that most people don't have access to is a very nice gift!

6. In fact, MAKE AN EFFORT. Don't just copy-paste a text from the Internet. Find something rare. Old. Shiny. Not readily available. Do some digging. Make it fun. Share the fun! Give the gift of research.

7. Many of you asked last year if you have to send the story in writing, or whether you can record it in audio/video. This year, I put the question on the form. If the person you are gifting to wants the story in writing, it will be marked for you in the email. Otherwise, all media are ok, dealer's choice!

8. It is assumed that the story you gift to someone is theirs to tell. No strings attached. (Do check with your Santa if you want to publish it in the future, though!)

9. TIMELINE: Sign up on the form below by DECEMBER 1st (midnight, wherever your midnight is). The day after, you will receive an email with the name of the person you are gifting to. Then, you have until DECEMBER 24th THE LATEST to send your story, in an email! Make it nice. Put a bow on it.

10. On the form, you will get the chance to give 3 keywords about what kinds of stories you generally like. This will be a guideline for your Secret Santa, but not a guarantee! Be open to new stories.

11. Keep the stories family friendly, unless explicitly stated in the keywords otherwise.

Are we good? Good.

Here's the form:

https://forms.gle/DckEyUd8wLrW1qeY9 

Please, don't troll this. Just, don't be a troll. Seriously.

* On copyright: In many countries, folktales are not under copyright. However, someone's retelling of a folktale can be. Also, specific translations can be protected by copyright too. It is worth checking the rules in your home country. Look for sources that are in the public domain (also depends on the country, but online archives are a great place to start!). If you work with a folktale, try to find multiple versions, and craft your own telling of it.

You can also craft your own story. But be aware that this is a Secret Santa for storytellers, so no novelettes or literary short stories, please. We are sharing tellable tales. Fairy tales. Fables. Legends. You get the idea.

Storytelling Cities: Return to the Story Marathon

After two weeks of rehearsals we said goodbye to Sigüenza, and on a Thursday we drove over to Guadalajara. We arrived around five in the afternoon, and didn't waste much time lazing around: we left our stuff at the hotel, and immediately headed to the theater for one last rehearsal. The Teatro Moderno is the venue for the featured stage performances during the Marathon; for these, people have to purchase separate tickets, and due to the popularity of the shows, and the 30 year history of the festival, they are almost always sold out.

While in Sigüenza we had a nice 27-28 degree weather the whole time, Guadalajara greeted us with scorching summer heat. The theater was a bit cooler. After rehearsal we headed to the city hall to meet the (very kind and friendly) Mayor, for the signing of the official founding document of the European Network of Storytelling Sites and Towns. It was an exciting, delightful moment.

After the formalities were done, we gathered on the terrace of a restaurant, having a drink before dinner. From there, we could see the open-air exhibit of all the posters of the past 30 Marathons (see the pictures above). This is where I finally felt like I have arrived: after ten years, I was in Guadalajara once again. It made me giddy.

Friday morning we had another rehearsal. Pepito wanted us to rehearse in the afternoon as well, but we gave him the puppy dog eyes until he gave us the rest of the day. At five, we went to the palace courtyard to witness the opening ceremonies. The Marathon was opened by the Mayor himself, who delivered a short speech, and then told a Ukrainian fairy tale. Entirely by heart, like a real storyteller (with the Ukrainian name of the hero written on his palm, just in case, which I think was adorable). It was the perfect opening. He was followed by various school groups on stage, equally lovely.

After a while, with the Marathon up and running, we walked out of the palace to browse books at the marketplace (yes, I bought quite a few). From there, we headed out to have a drink of lemonade, and then moved on to the courtyard of a local school for the evening "Unheard Storytellers" show, where new performers are introduced every year. It was Susana's idea, and it was a good one. Not only because we heard amazing storytellers (among them my personal favorite was Sandra Rossi), but also because most of the Marathon's tellers were in the audience, checking out the newcomers. The mood was friendly and familiar.

(Spanish organizations have left FEST a few years ago, and I have missed them sorely ever since. I loved meeting Spanish tellers at conferences, and I finally got the chance to hang out with them again. Guadalajara, during the Marathon, is home to us all: storytellers are walking the streets, sitting in the cafes, lingering in the doorways, always steeped in excited conversation. I love it.)

Saturday morning we had one very last rehearsal at the theater. After that, I had time to run to the bookstore and buy more books, and then we decided to sit in on the theater shows before our own. They were all full house, and they were totally worth it. My favorite was Eugenia Manzanera's performance, who was witty, funny, and entirely enchanting.

While the last (musical) show was happening on stage, we all moved backstage to get ready. We were excited and a bit nervous - but our performance went really well. The audience was lovely. No one can wish for a better audience than a full house in Guadalajara: they applaud, they cheer, they laugh, they sing along with us, they answer every question. While we were on stage, I kept thinking we should have put more interaction into our show. This would have been the perfect audience to play with.

Our show started at nine in the evening, and we left the theater around eleven, in a very good mood: laughing, singing, accepting many warm congratulations. And this was not the end of the day yet: after a lovely dinner at the library, we headed over to the palace once again, for nighttime storytelling on the Marathon's main stage. For me, this was the hardest part of the festival: I usually go to bed around 10pm. This time, I was on stage, telling in Spanish, at 2am. Now I know I can tell in Spanish even when I am half asleep... But it was worth it. The Guadalajara audience, even after midnight, was cheerful, friendly, and surprisingly alert. I loved playing with them.

After passing out late at night, we only had one last day to go. In the morning we gathered in a conference room in the palace for a round table discussion. The audience was made up of some very sleepy storytellers, but we have a lovely conversation about our experiences, the project, and storytelling in general. This was what closed the festival for us. Those of us who were not heading straight to the airport went back to bed in the afternoon. In the evening, we gathered one last time for dinner, drinks, and conversation.

It was incredible to be in Guadalajara once again, after ten years. It's one of my favorite storytelling festivals in the world. I immersed myself in stories, in the company of fellow storytellers, and the beauty of the Spanish language. I was absolutely privileged to participate in the performance project, and work with a great group of tellers under Pepito's direction. I was proud of the show we got to bring to the stage in Guadalajara. I hope I won't wait another ten years before returning...

Storytelling Cities: 8 storytellers, 6 countries, 3 weeks, 1 show

This spring I participated in an incredible European storytelling project.

I traveled to Sigüenza, Spain, on May 26th to take part in a project organized by Spain, Italy, France, and Slovakia. These four countries have created a collaboration named the European Network of Storytelling Sites and Towns (ENST). Since Spain was represented by the same organization that also organizes the Maratón de Cuentos in Guadalajara, part of the network's inauguration was a project within a project: getting storytellers together from all the countries and creating a multicultural, multilingual stage performance for the Maratón.

Each country delegated tellers. I was invited along by Bohdan Ulasin from Slovakia, whom I met in Guadalajra at the Misterios de Europa conference ten years ago. The lineup of our colorful team was as follows: Pepito Matéo (France), Clara Zénoun (France), Julien Tauber (France), António Fontinha (Portugal), Bohdan Ulasin (Slovakia), Roberto Anglisani (Italy), Susana Tornero (Spain), and yours truly (Hungary). Seven of us participated in the performance, and Pepito took on the role of director.

We had two weeks to put the entire show together. As soon as I stumbled into the hotel on May 26th, we immediately headed to the theater to start rehearsing. We worked hard all day almost every day, until June 8th, when we had our premiere in Sigüenza. The next day, we packed up, and headed to Guadalajara for the Maratón, to prepare for the big show.

The performance we created was whimsically titled "Il était una vez jeden utopická viaggio a történeteken keresztül em seis línguas" - and this title reflects the actual creative process. All of us selected short tales ahead of time, translated them to all the other participating languages, and selected the ones we wanted to include in the show. Pepito created an outline that we got to fill with stories, songs, rhymes, and playful interactions as we went along.

Our common language was Spanish. It took me a few days to switch my brain over to it (in my everyday life I only have the chance to read and watch TV in Spanish), but once it happened, I loved the opportunity to speak it, and listen to the others. Our little team had a whole lot of languages in common: multiple people understood French, Italian, and even English, although we barely ever spoke the latter. After a few days, we were all speaking some strange pan-Mediterranean mixed language, and my brain gave up trying to understand what language a word was spoken in, as long as I understood the meaning. Susana, as the only native speaker on the team, was super helpful and patient with our efforts to speak better and tell better in Spanish.

It was a joyful, playful experience to be a part of such a multilingual, friendly group of people. We shared meals every day, and our conversations often turned to "how do you say this in your language...?". We went around the table, comparing phrases, proverbs, riddles, and animal sounds, celebrating our differences and similarities. I learned a whole lot of fun new things - such as Antonio's comment on how these were "cherry conversations." Just like you can't eat just one cherry (he explained, as we were all feasting on ripe cherries from the market), you also can't just have one response in these conversation. One example inspires the next.

(Our theater stage in Sigüenza - first a medieval church,

and then a grain storage building)

We had rehearsal from 10 in the morning till 2pm every day, had lunch, and then started again at 4pm. We usually finished work around 8 in the evening (and headed to the town square for drinks and conversation). We played drama games and warm-up exercises in the mornings, and then launched into working on the performance. In two weeks, we created a 90 minute long storytelling show. The first half of it featured individual tales. We opened with a song, and proverbs in many languages, before we started on the storytelling. I told the old Hungarian legend Golden Bridge, Silver Bridge; Julien told the legend of The City of Ys. Roberto brought us a story by Gianni Rodari about roads not taken, Susana a Catalan version of the Musicians of Bremen, and Bohdan the story of legendary Slovak highwayman Janosik. Clara told the Armenian tale of Queen Anait, and Antonio brought us a lovely Portuguese version of The boy who could speak the language of animals. After the individual tales, we told some stories together, mixing multiple languages. We did Stone Soup (with each ingredient in a different language), Sennin (a literary tale by Akutagawa Ryunosuke), and the legend of the Journey of Malei from the Zhuang people. We closed the show with folk songs in all our various languages.

It took very intensive work to craft the show and create a flowing performance. It is not easy at all for storytellers to work together in this many languages, with this many different styles. We negotiated and compromised, and found creative solutions to fitting all the pieces together. Sometimes we grew tired, and sometimes we ran into communication barriers, but in the end, we all enjoyed the experience way too much to get hung up on the technicalities. It was something that allowed me (us) to experiment with different styles and techniques of telling. For example, I have never told a story before to empty chairs this many times... but after the initial discomfort of speaking into the void, I was beginning to see the upside of repeated rehearsals. The good news is: this project is a great experiment, and it is not over yet! We will take the show on the road to France, Slovakia, and Italy, changing things around every time to fit the new languages and new audiences.

We premiered the show in Sigüenza, in front of a very appreciative local audience - many of whom we got to know over the course of the two weeks spent in that lovely city. Among them were Fernando and Mirta, our gracious and lovely hosts from La Casona de Lucía - honestly the best little hotel I have ever stayed in, with definitely the best food. But they were not the only ones we got to spend time with while in Sigüenza: we also told some stories in other places!

One of those places was a center for refugees hosted by an organization named Accem. It was a lovely experience. We told some tales, and the people living there also told us some of the stories from their countries (such as Afghanistan and Burkina Faso). Then we had dinner together, someone put on music, and the whole evening turned into one big party, where we all danced and laughed together. Many of the children and adults from out audience later came to the premiere too - and whenever we met on the streets of Sigüenza, we always exchanged happy smiles.

We also got to visit the two high schools the town has, and tell stories at both. The kids were friendly and curious; suspicious at first the way all teenagers are, but they warmed up to be a great audience. I told to them in English so that they could hear a tale in another language too, and they followed along enthusiastically. After the tales we had conversations with them about storytelling as an art form and the importance of stories. I still love telling to teenagers. Such a great audience, wherever you go.

These two weeks in Sigüenza flew by, but they will stay with me forever. The town itself is beautiful, all pink stones and medieval buildings, and the people who life there were friendly and welcoming. And I cherish the experience of working with this international group of storytellers: the conversations over wine, the tales we exchanged, the laughs we shared. In a time when differences and conflicts get so much attention, it was good to be among people who seek connection through stories.

Thank you, all! See you on the road!

P.S.: The performance, and the rehearsal process, were documented by a professional film crew. Hopefully, there will be a video to share soon!

(I will write about the Maratón in a separate post, to keep from going on too long.)

A wake for a storyteller

Today is World Storytelling Day. And also, very fittingly, the birthday of my paternal grandfather, Zalka Ottó. He would have been 86 years old. He passed away on January 7th this year.

I have mentioned him often in interviews, books, and on social media. He was the great storyteller of my family, personally responsible for me becoming a professional one (he was never paid for his stories, although many people would have given him cash to shut up every once in a while). His funeral was well attended, but the wake ended up short, before we could bring out the stories about him. To me, storytelling is an integral part of mourning a loved one. They live on with us through their stories. And luckily, I have many about Grandpa Ottó. Not only from memory, but also in recording. In the past decade, he had more than one health scare (as the family saying goes, he died twice but survived both). After the first one, I started recording his stories and recollections on my phone.

Grandpa was always telling stories. Tales, anecdotes, memories. He was a real life trickster, always up for a joke and a prank. When I was a kid, my two cousins and I spent weeks at my grandparents', and grandpa was always in charge of our entertainment. In the evenings, when they managed to wrangle us into bed (after drinking, peeing, drinking again, etc.), grandpa told us endless bedtime stories. As an adult, whenever I visited, we were always talking, always chatting. Grandpa could make a story about anything, from last week's meeting of the Gardening Club all the way to his own childhood, or embarrassing things about the neighboring village. Sometimes he even told folktales - always dressing them up as if they had happened just around the corner. I remember when I first read Baron Munchhausen tales, I felt greatly offended that someone had stolen my grandfather's true stories... Since then, I have encountered many of those "true stories" in various places, including the Irish folklore archives and a Nasreddin hodja folktale collection. Trickster tales travel well. And real life tricksters keep them alive.

Here are some stories about Grandpa Ottó. About him, for now. I'll break our the actual tales later on.

1. It was impossible to upset grandpa. Three children close in age can do some serious damage to a household and a garden: we broke a cherry tree in half by climbing it, we fed green walnuts to the pigs, we made a mud bath in the vegetable patch. We often took Grandpa by surprise, but he always laughed about it. I don't remember him ever snapping or yelling at us for anything.

2. Children had free reign of the gardens. We could eat any fruit or vegetable, climb any tree, use anything for our games. He actively helped us with the latter: he taught us how to make horns from squash leafs, whistles from elder branches, bow and arrows from reeds, and... how to impale a potato on a sharpened stick and then fling it very far. Yep, not all our activities were child safe, to say the least, but we mostly got away unharmed. (My dad, on the other hand, managed to hit my mom with a corn cob arrow once. They have divorced since.) My husband, who works at a kindergarten, paled a little when I told him that I spent autumn days as a child sitting on a porch with a basket of chestnuts, a drill, a knife, and a box of matches, making little figurines...

3. Grandpa practiced the wisdom of Tom Sawyer, and liked to trick people into doing tasks for him by making them seem very exciting. Those people were usually us children. He would take us to the cucumber sorting machine, and we spent hours hauling cucumbers onto the conveyor belt and then squealing excitedly as we watched them fall. He also bestowed on us the privilege of accompanying him to weighing raspberries, or organizing raspberry picking contests about who got the most full buckets. (My grandparent sold produce on the side.) My favorite, however, was the time when he convinced us that you could find dinosaur bones in the backyard. There were indeed bone fragments there, from pigs long past, and as a result we dug a whole new vegetable cellar for him.

4. When I was a kid my grandparents had pigs, chickens, and ducks. The chickens gave a lot of eggs, supplying the whole family. Grandpa had a story about the secret of the abundance, and he happily told it to anyone: He claimed that all you have to do is when a hen lays an egg, you have to snatch it up quickly. The hen looks back, sees no egg, and quickly lays another one... We always wanted to try this trick, which is why it was usually our task to crawl into the chicken coop and gather all the eggs. He also told us that he fed the chickens with beets before Easter, and got red eggs. We believed him.

5. Our grandparents' garden shares a fence with  a castle on one side, and a nursery school on the other. Whenever grandpa worked in the garden, the nursery kids would run to the fence and yell his name. He goofed off for hours for them. He told Snow White often, and lined up the kids, telling them they were the Dwarfs, and naming each one from Grumpy to Bashful. Once a father complained angrily that the neighbor was calling his kid dopey... Grandpa had some explaining to do.

6. There were three basic rules for us kids: 1. "Kids are allowed everything." 2. "A kid should eat ten pounds of dirt a year." (But not at once, my poor mom pleaded.) 3. "Grandpa doesn't only look, he also sees things." It was true, he was a good observer, and taught us the same.

7. He was also good at math, and liked puzzles. Till the end, he loved to do his daily crosswords. Once, we were on a bus with him and he overheard some teens struggling with their math homework. By the time we got to our stop, he patiently and kindly explained it to them. (Anyone who tried patiently and kindly explain math to teens knows this is a memorable feat.)

8. One of the central characters of grandpa's storytelling repertoire was a man named Szabó István of Sokorópátka, the stereotypical dumb and vain local politician. There were many stories about his stupidity (and some where he was actually witty). Grandpa told the same stories to my dad and aunt when they were kids, and the whole family kind of believed he'd made them all up. Until one day my aunt walked into an exhibit, and there he was, Szabó István of Sokorópátka, a real historical figure! (Wit a Wikipedia page.) Whether he was really that dumb or not... that's another story.

9. Grandpa was also not above making a fool out of himself for our entertainment. Once we took a hike and came across a boat on a small lake. We all had to get in the boat, and then get out - but Grandpa, leaving last, tripped, and fell dramatically into the water. He walked, dripping, all the way home, and we laughed until we cried. I only realized much later that he probably did it on purpose. Similarly, whenever we were stung by nettles, Grandpa always made a show of explaining how it is very healthy, and then rubbing his arms and legs with nettles all over. It seemed liked the coolest thing at the time.

10. It was one of Grandpa's personal stories that back in his soldier days a sergeant decided to order all recruits to paint the sky. One by one they stepped forward, received the order, and decided it was impossible. When Zalka Ottó came up, he stepped forward, saluted, and asked the sergeant what color he wanted. I think this says a lot about him in itself...

Bonus: Grandpa often told us that when he died he wanted to be buried with his teeth in a bag around his neck. So that when an archaeologist finds him in a hundred years, they would be surprised to see a man who had all his teeth inside his chest. As an archaeologist, I appreciated the thought, although we did not end up complying with it.

Archaeology, on the other hand, brings me to paraphrase my favorite Roman epitaph.

He has died many times, but never quite like this.

I hope you are well in the world above.

The Storytellers' Secret Santa

Who wouldn't want to receive a shiny, new, exciting story for the winter holiday of their choice - from a fellow storyteller?

This winter, I am giving a new idea a try: Secret Santa for storytellers around the globe!

Here's the rules:

1. We are sending stories as gifts to each other. You draw another storyteller's name in secret (I'll take care of this), and you send them a story. Someone else sends a story to you. That's it. Joy all around. (No, this is not a chain email!)

2. YOU GIVE A STORY, you get a story. This is important. Secret Santa kinda sucks if your gift never arrives. So, only commit if you are sure you can send your gift out in time! Don't ruin someone else's miracle.

3. Please observe copyright (see below*). This means it is easiest if we mostly work with folktales, or stories in the public domain. Be mindful of cultural appropriation.

4. We are doing this in English. For now. Only do another language if you are sure the person you send your story to shares your native language.

5. With that said, this will be extra fun if the stories are not easily accessible in English! Translating something that most people don't have access to is a very nice gift!

6. In fact, MAKE AN EFFORT. Don't just copy-paste a text from the Internet. Find something rare. Old. Shiny. Not readily available. Do some digging. Make it fun. Share the fun! Give the gift of research.

7. It is assumed that the story you gift to someone is theirs to tell. No strings attached. (Do check with your Santa if you want to publish it in the future, though!)

8. TIMELINE: Sign up on the form below by DECEMBER 6th (midnight, wherever your midnight is). The day after, you will receive an email with the name of the person you are gifting to. Then, you have until DECEMBER 24th THE LATEST to send your story, in an email! Make it nice. Put a bow on it.

9. On the form, you will get the chance to give 3 keywords about what kinds of stories you generally like. This will be a guideline for your Secret Santa, but not a guarantee! Be open to new stories.

10. Keep the stories family friendly, unless explicitly stated in the keywords otherwise.

Are we good? Good.

Here's the form:

https://forms.gle/4rSuFzXfiknfAvci9

Please, don't troll this. Just, don't be a troll. Seriously.

* On copyright: In many countries, folktales are not under copyright. However, someone's retelling of a folktale can be. Also, specific translations can be protected by copyright too. It is worth checking the rules in your home country. Look for sources that are in the public domain (also depends on the country, but online archives are a great place to start!). If you work with a folktale, try to find multiple versions, and craft your own telling of it.

You can also craft your own story. But be aware that this is a Secret Santa for storytellers, so no novelettes or literary short stories, please. We are sharing tellable tales. Fairy tales. Fables. Legends. You get the idea.

Storytelling on the shoulders of tradition: FEST Storytelling Conference, 2021.

After a missed year, and half a year of further delays, this October we finally had a FEST (Federation for European Storytelling) conference again! Until the last minute there was a lot of excitement and anxiety around whether we can travel and gather, since everyone is still sad about having to cancel the conference in Turkey last summer - but in the end, we got the green light. The conference took place in Denmark, on the island of Fyn, in a lovely town called Svendborg. The island, among other things, is famous as the birthplace of Hans Christian Andersen.

I arrived to Svendborg Wednesday morning, after a long and pleasant train ride. Since we could not check into the hotel till the afternoon, some of headed to a restaurant for lunch and catching up. I got to meet Isabelle Hauser from Switzerland, who was at FEST for the first time, and I immediately wanted to be her friend. By the time we returned to the hotel, the other participants were also gathering: we had more than 100 storytellers, despite the travel and pandemic complications. It was amazing to see friendly and familiar faces again; the conference hall echoed with chatter and laughter. Some countries were missing or underrepresented this year for various reasons (I missed seeing more English, Spanish, and Turkish tellers), but it was still a great gathering. 

After a short welcome speech we got to hear Henrik Lübker, curator of the Andersen Museum, talk about the museum's renovation and future plans, preparing us for our visit on Friday. After a noisy and happy dinner (storytellers had a lot to catch up on after 2 years), we had an evening lecture as well: Vigga Bro, one of the iconic persons of Danish storytelling, talked to us about her life and her art. She invited Abbi Patrix on stage for a conversation, and they discussed theater, storytelling, and even Andersen's tales (which were a topic of varied opinions throughout the weekend). It was an enjoyable way to start the conference.

The real work began Thursday morning. We had a General Assembly, where the board and EC of Fest told us about projects, plans, and budgeting, and then we held elections for new board and EC members. After the heavy lifting was done, we moved on to the professional workshops in the afternoon. There was a lot to choose from, but not for me: I did my workshop twice, 90 minutes each. It was titled Carrying the Story Bag: Continuing the oral tradition in the 21st century. I basically lead a discussion and brainstorming session with 20 people each time, about what tradition is, how we define traditional storytelling (do we need to?), and what we can do with it in the 21st century. I had a list of open-ended questions to spark thoughts and opinion (e.g. "What do you think of other people telling stories from your own tradition?" or "What would you like to pass on to the next generation?"). The discussion was lively and fascinating. We had a good mix of people, from traditional tellers to personal tellers, from Croatia to Sweden. I think we all learned a lot from each other, and I received a lot of enthusiastic feedback for the topic.

After the workshops Elena Asciutti from Italy organized a radio interview for Diffusione Fiaba with me and with Agnieszka Aysen Kaim. We discussed folktales and oral tradition, and had a lot of fun sharing our thoughts. We caught up with the other participants at dinner at a lovely restaurant, and that was not yet the end of the day. 

We got quite the bedtime story. Two Danish tellers, Jesper la Cour és Troels Kirk Ejsing performed their telling of Beowulf in 90 minutes. We were not only listeners, but also all active participants in the storytelling: we sat along the two sides of the stage, facing each other, and sometimes we were guests in a feasting hall, while others we were rowing a ship on the sea. The music and sound effects of the performance were supplied by a watering can, which was both hilarious and creative. It was playful, participatory storytelling at its finest, with a lot of fun moments and improvised jokes. I loved every minute of it.

We spent Friday at another location, in Odense. In the morning we heard lectures in the local university's building, had lunch at a street food restaurant (loved it), and then returned for some more presentations. Dr. Ane-Grum Schwensen told us about her work with Andersen's manuscrips, and let us in on a few secrets about how he changed his stories multiple times before publication. Swedish storyteller Göran Hemberg gave us a philosophical yet enjoyable lecture about how storytelling creates shared space. Frank Belt and Paul Groos from the Netherlands expanded the FEST competence model, working on descriptions of levels of what each competence entails. This was especially interesting because it helps storytellers define professional development, but doesn't try to constrict it. Last but definitely not least Mimesis Heidi Dahlsveen gave us a talk/performance on how digital storytelling has shaped our lives in the past two years. It was thought-provoking and unexpected.

After the lectures came the treat of the day: a visit to the Andersen House. Because renovations have not been quite completed yet, we could visit at a reduced price, and we even got a few glimpses behind the scenes. At this point, I have to confess that I have never liked Andersen stories (they made me cry and feel miserable as a child), but the museum managed to be a fascinating experience even for me. It presents Andersen as a person with a hint of humor, and the spaces designed by a Japanese architect were really beautiful. The museum is filled with interactive things, from a touch screen to explore Andersen's drawings all the way to a two-way mirror for the emperor's imaginary clothes. We also got to visit the children's play room, filled with tiny houses, crochet food, and colorful costumes. All of us immediately turned into children and barely wanted to leave the place at all.

Friday night concluded with an elegant candlelit gourmet dinner, singing, and dancing. The Danish organizers handed the flame of the conference to Lithuania. We drank wine, talked, and laughed together.

Saturday morning had another round of workshops for those who were not leaving yet. I joined Trine Krarup's three hour workshop on environmental storytelling, but could only stay for the first part. It was interesting to exchange our thoughts on stories and en environment, and how storytellers can reach new audiences. I left a little early, because I still had storytelling to do in the afternoon...

The conference officially ended with lunch. We said our goodbyes. Many people headed back home, but some of us stayed. Parallel to the conference there was also a week-long Danish storytelling festival in town, and we got invited for the closing day. After lunch we gathered at a local cultural center for a lively, crowded International Story Hour. Five of us performed: Susanne Schoppmeier from Germany told a "clever maid" tale; Kathleen Rappolt also from Germany told Barking Mouse and also a touching tale about a bird and freedom; Milda Varnauskaite from Lithuania told a gorgeous Lithuanian legend (I have never heard her before but now I am a total fan); Mattia Di Pierro from Italy told a funny story about a little gnome-like creature. I told last: a Hungarian legend about a fairy woman who turned people into flowers to save them from an invading army.

I spent the afternoon at a nice cafe with Pintér Zsolt and Kántor Szilvia, who were there representing the organizers of the 2023 FEST conference in Hungary. From there, we moved on to another cafe where we got a dinner of panini sandwiches in the company of happy and talkative Danish storytellers from the festival. And the day was not over yet: the closing performance took place in the harbor, in the building of a costume museum. We got to hear a lot of good stories, some in English and some in Danish. My dear friend Annemarie Krarup helped me understand the latter. I was especially happy to hear Maria Junghaus tell; she was the main organizer of the conference, and spent her time running around getting things done, so it was good to hear her tell a story as a treat. In English we got to hear Paul Groos from the Netherlands who told a local legend about the Devil's Mountain, and Paola Balbi from Italy who told us a stunning myth about the Mother Goddess. On my part, I added the Florida folktale about Mockingbirds on Fridays.

We walked back to the hotel late at night, taking the scenic route. The four days of the conference had flown by. I was filled with happy memories, new stories, and the excitement of being the part of a colorful and friendly storytelling community. As well as we managed to adapt to the digital world, nothing quite measures up to spending time together in person.

See you all on the road!

StorySpotting Extra: Folktales of Elsa and Naruto

StorySpotting Extra is a new thing I just invented: a report from an actual gig where I got to use my pop culture experience. Because I like sharing fun moments when theory gets put into practice.

This summer, luckily, we got to have our camps with the Világszép Foundation where I work full time as a storyteller. We take children who live in the state care system to our campsite in beautiful Paloznak for a week (per age group, seven camps total) filled with games, adventures, and storytelling. The latter is very important: we tell stories every night - yes, even to the teens, and they get lullabies too! -, and sometimes in the mornings. Kids who have known us for years look forward to these events, and some of them like to give me requests for what kinds of stories they would like to hear. While the "official" stories are selected in advance, there is always ample time in the afternoons and evenings for some extra storytelling. This year, I got two requests: they wanted "Naruto stories" and "Elsa stories." 

The quest was on.

It is always a precious chance for a storyteller to connect to her audience through their fandoms. We can learn a lot from the stories and characters that kids these days are invested in. It is even better if it is a fandom we happen to share: Naruto and anime culture was a part of my childhood too, and I also adore Frozen.

I spent the next few weeks with intensive research. Elsa seemed like the easier ask of the two, since it is a fairy tale adaptation (although pretty far from the original). However, I have never liked Andersen's Snow Queen, and did not want to tell it. Instead, I looked for other tales about powerful women with cryokinetic abilities who are portrayed in a positive light. Suddenly, the search got a lot harder... I returned to one of my old favorites, the legend of Queen Virignal from the medieval German Dietrich cycle. I also tracked down a gorgeous picture book titled Snow Princess, by Ruth Sanderson. This latter is a retelling of a classic Russian folktale, not very close to tradition, but it does have a happy ending (which was very important to me). An American friend helped me track down a copy in time, so I could head out to camp with two "Elsa" stories in my repertoire.

Naruto turned out to be the easier of the two. I started with brushing up on my Japanese nine-tailed fox folklore, which I'm very familiar with from earlier trickster research. Teens and middle schoolers can handle longer, more complex stories, so I added the legend of Tamamo-no-Mae, a fox lady who brought down several dynasties over the centuries, and kept hopping from kingdom to kingdom until he was imprisoned in a rock in Japan, and convinced to change her ways. In addition, a previous StorySpotting article led me to the legend of Jiraiya, a famous ninja whose story inspired several characters and elements of Naruto. It is an epic tale with giant frogs, evil snake demons, and thrilling battles.

All the research was absolutely worth it. The kids asked for the ninja stories right on the first day of camp, and it turned out more than one of them were Naruto fans (I don't know if it's playing on Hungarian TV again, or if it's Boruto nostalgia, who knows). The Jiraiya legend found its perfect audience. I spend more than half an hour telling it. Sometimes we stopped the story and discussed how it had been adapted into the anime, what changed and what stayed the same. We also played with the idea of the legend's rock-paper-scissors concept, where giant toad beats giant slug, giant slug beats giant snake, giant snake beats giant toad. It was very amusing.

The other ninja story was told the next evening. It also took a good half hour while Tamamo-no-Mae rampaged her way across Asia and reached the final battle. After the story, we looked up photos on my phone about the places (and the rock) mentioned in the legend. By this point, the kids got so ninja-happy that they made up a whole ninja movie for their filming workshop. It was an instant blockbuster.

The Elsa stories hit a more personal note. A girl had asked for them in advance, and when we arrived at camp she checked to see if I had them. I told Virginal's legend just to her, sitting on the living room couch. She listened in rapt attention. This legend is very male-focused, but it did not need much creative finagling to focus on the character of the Queen of the Mountains instead. I really enjoyed retelling it from a different point of view, and found new things in the story even though I have worked with it before. 

The second story found itself an even better context. At the end of the week we could bid for pictures taken in the photo workshop by the kids. I bid my dessert for one, and for another, I bid the second Elsa story to the same girl. I got to tell it the last morning before the end of camp, just to her. She loved the Snow Princess, and noticed things in the story that I did not. It was a lovely, personal storytelling experience. And I got a lovely photo for it.

There kinds of "gigs" are my favorite. They have everything I love about storytelling: personal connection, cozy moments, enthusiastic listeners, traditional tales, and geeking out over shared fandoms. I can't wait to see what themes they will ask for next...

Down the Rabbit Hole: More questions about researching stories

Today I taught my storytelling research workshop (Down the Rabbit Hole: The How and Why of Researching Stories) as part of the FEAST webinar series. I had a lovely group of people attending from around the globe, and a wonderful team helping me run the workshop (thanks to Sheila Wee, Roger Jenkins, and Krupa Vinayagamoorthi!).

As usual, there were a lot of questions, and I did not have time to answer all of them. Luckily, people typed them into the chat, so now I can go back and address the ones I've missed.

Here we go!

How often do you find a folk tale does not fit an ATU number?

Often. Especially when I venture further outside of Europe. In these cases I try to use other sources that might help, either regional tale type and motif indexes, or other handbooks. Here is a very useful one I didn't mention, that deals with African folktale types that also appear in the Americas. It that fails, it's back to keyword search...

Does anyone have resources for folk tales from the Punjab Region of India/Pakistan in the original language? I mostly have been finding English.

I don't, but I'm putting this out here so that other people might respond. All the sources I can come up with are also in English (like the India/Pakistan tale types and motif indexes I mentioned in the slides). 

How to search for the F number E number or H number story from the search result of storyseeds.org/storysearch?

I talked about this in the workshop, but I want to share the resources. If you want to search by number, here is the motif index online (and here is the bibliography of sources it refers to). As you can see, the letters mark different groups of motifs, such as Tests or Magic. I did a really fun blog series about the weirdest motifs, you can read it here.

Also, when you have the number of a motif you are looking for, and you have already checked the motif index's own bibliography, I usually type the number into Google Books search, with quotation marks and an additional search term. For example: "S31" + "folktales"

What is your recommendation for pronunciation resources?

Usually other people, who speak the language as their native tongue. But there are also resources online, Forvo is a pretty good one for example, because people can add to it, and it gives you where the person is from.

What if I read a story in a book or watch a video of a story, and want to tell that...is it enough to just mention about the author and the publisher or do we need to take permission from the author/publisher?

This is a whole long and complex conversation that revolves around copyright laws, and also around professional ethics. Checking whether you need copyright permission for a story is one of the main reasons people do background research. But even when something is a folktale, and not under copyright, storytellers tell the same tale very differently. We all make them our own, and out favorites become our "signature stories", as the Americans call it. Because of this, I feel it is polite to ask a teller if you like their signature version of a tale - or ask for the sources, so you can go, do your research, and come up with your own signature version! 

And finally, as usual: if anyone has any storytelling research questions, or specific stories you are looking for, feel free to reach out here, or through my Facebook page! And check out Girl in the Chair, my blog series on storytelling research. :)