How to "Make" Elf Shoes

Greetings, Earthlings!  (What?  Elves are earthlings, too.)

As you know, this time of year I do my same ol' busking routine, except in a home-made elf costume.  Since I first made it in 2010 it has changed slightly every year, and this was the year it was time to replace my shoes.  They weren't comfortable enough to endure many hours of foot-puppetry, and the curls on the toes kept falling over.  This project took two afternoons, and was quite easy, if you don't mind glue fumes!

Here's what my final product looked like, since I guess you're supposed to do that on DIY blogs:

Wow!  Perfect, flawless elf shoes!

Note: I recommend NOT driving a car in elf shoes, because (1) the curls will get all smooshed, and (2) if the curls don't get smooshed, they'll hook onto something then you won't be able to move between the gas and the brake and you will NOT have a holly jolly Christmas if that happens.  A sleigh is okay, though.

Materials:
-1 pair sneakers (I used Dansko Vedas that took a beating waitressing last summer but were perfectly refurbishable)
-Fabric of your choice, probably no more than one yard, but I didn't measure.  I went with green velvet leftover from my elf costume
-1 wire coat hanger
-A little bit of batting
-Laces (I used sparkly silver cord from Jo-Ann, I think two yards)
-Other "accents" (Fur for around the ankle, silver ribbon for around the shoe, etc.)
-Jingle bells for the toes, of course!

Tools:
-Heavy duty super glue.  Lots of it.  I went through a whole tube (For the original pair I used Fabri-Tac but wasn't totally satisfied with its strength.  This time I used Aleene's Super Fabric Adhesive which was better.  It smells really strong but I didn't feel woozy or anything, and it's great for peeling off fingers)
-Wire cutters/pliers
-Rubber bands
-Clothespins/clamps
-Scotch tape
-Awl, or other pointy thing
-Fabric scissors
-Sewing machine or needle and thread

Instructions:
Clear your afternoon, spread out some newspaper, make a cup of peppermint hot chocolate (you're an elf, right?), put on some Christmas music (just kidding, trashy pop music will do just fine), and get to work!  Oh, and I recommend balling up newspaper and shoving it inside each shoe for support.


STEP 1: Curls
The curls are the hardest part of elf shoes.  I just recycled the curls from my old shoes, so unfortunately my memory of how to make them is a little fuzzy, but it's pretty straightforward.

1.1 Draw your desired curl on the wrong side of a double layer of fabric.  I use chalk.  (This photo was me doing this step, then bailing and deciding to use the old ones, so make yours prettier!)

I really hope you can do better than this.

1.2 Cut it out, leaving room for a wee seam, and cut the "stem" longer than the curl will be to attach it.  Hand- or machine-sew it closed, right sides together.

1.3 Turn it inside out (this part will be hard, but I have full confidence that you'll figure out, and you'll have to since I forget how I did it--use a safety pin maybe?).  Stuff it with batting, sew jingle bell to the end (but do this at the end if you don't want jingling throughout the project!)

Note: when the bells fall off, and they will, I quickly put new ones on using plain, stud earrings.  You can get them on tightly and apparently the back will stay on the earring more strongly than stitches hold.  Also, it's a great surprise when you're looking everywhere for that earring then find it years later on your elf shoe!

STEP 2: Curl supports
On my old shoes, the curls kept falling over.  I had one L-shaped support, so the curls couldn't flop forwards, but they could flop left, right, and backwards, yanking the whole support out of place so I had wires sticking straight up.  This time, I did it right.

2.1 Using your wire cutters and pliers, make the two supports shown below out of the coat hanger.  Both are a single piece of wire folded in half in kind of a loop, approximately an inch and a half tall.  On one, bend the "feet" so they go forward at a right angle, so the whole unit is an L-shape.  The feet are about an inch long.  On the other, bend the feet 90 degrees to the sides, so it's two L's back to back.  Because of these braces, the curls won't be able to flop around at all.  Sounds like each piece is five inches long when you cut it.

2.2 Time for the glue.  I attached the front ones first, near the toe, and put a rectangle of card stock (cut out from the glue packaging) over the feet for extra support.  I put glue under each foot and under the card.  The big rubber band was great for holding it together while everything dried.  For the back one, I couldn't find means of extra support, so I just glued the feet themselves, which seem to be holding together.  The back braces kept falling towards the front ones, though, which I allowed.  They seem to be stronger when they touch, so no problem.

More like quail shoes.

2.3 Shove the braces through the batting of your curl, and smother the bottom of the curl in glue!

This is the only photo where it looks like I did a good job.

STEP 3: Cover shoes
My shoes had clear "sides" where the lace holes were, so I decided to just follow the design of the shoe while covering it.  If your shoes are different, do this differently!

3.1 The first part you'll be covering, if your shoes are like mine, is the toe and tongue, so it's useful getting the lace flaps out of the way.  I found that twist ties and a rubber band worked perfectly.

Ah yes, interior sweat marks from Cape Cod summer waitressing.

As you can tell, my footprints are awesome.

3.2 Cut out enough fabric to cover the tongue and toes.  Figure out where it will be placed and mark where the curl lies (I just pinch it with my fingers because precision is not my strong suit).  Fold that spot and cut a little slit so when you open it it will be a good size for the curl.  Don't make it too big or it will look bad!  Put the curl through the hole. 

Where's my shoe?  There it is!

3.3 Lift up the fabric (I think I bunched it around the curl and clothespinned it so I could use both hands to squeeze the bejesus out of the glue tube) and put a butt-load of glue from the curl all the way up the tongue.  Gently put the fabric back down, smoothing it as you go (like putting on a bumper sticker!) until that area is covered.  Then, one side at a time, lift the loose fabric and glue the sides, affixing the fabric.

 

3.4 Once it's dry, trim the fabric so it's not hanging everywhere.  Or tuck and glue it under the top and sides of the tongue if you're not a slacker like me, 'cause that would probably look nice or something.  Don't cut the sides too close to the lace flap, since overlap there will be okay.  Luckily my shoes have a red line on the rubber on the sides, so that was my guide in trimming the sides. 

3.5 Time to cover the lace flap and the back.  Cut out a piece of fabric big enough for all necessary parts, one for each side.  I started by applying glue just around the lace grommets, and affixing that part of the fabric.  This time, I do tuck it over by about an inch, so glue both sides!

There's something majestic about wet glue.

Getting there...

3.6 Once that's on, put glue on the rest of the exposed fabric, and on some rubber (up to the red line in my case), tucking it into the shoe over the sides.  Trim the excess, being careful to make it look nice where it meets the front fabric piece.  On the back I overlap the two sides by half an inch so the very back has a stripe of double-layer fabric, like a bowling shoe.  I used clothespins and other crap to clamp the tucked parts while they dried.  The highest clothespin there is where I had to fold a little triangle down where there was extra fabric due to the angle.  I'm too tired to find the words to explain that part; you'll figure it out, my dear elf.

STEP 4: Laces
The laces were really hard and annoying.  I chose to only lace them through every other hole, for reasons of both aesthetics and laziness.

4.1 As you'll soon notice, your holes are all covered up.  Use whatever tool you want (I did some with an Exacto knife and some with an awl after I accidentally put the knife in a puddle of glue) to just poke through the layer of fabric covering them, or two, if they're covered from the inside as well.

Got lazy and didn't take a "poking through holes" photo

4.2 Prep the laces.  I bought this fancy silver cord, and the ends were taped from the store.  Once I cut it in half for each shoe, those ends started unraveling.  I wrapped them in tons of tape to keep them secure, but then I couldn't get the damn things through the holes.  This part was very frustrating.  After much trial and error, I realized I was just increasing the diameter by too much with that much tape, so I dramatically sliced the old tape off and put a single piece of tape on each end, just long enough to go around once, and made it really tight.  This made it possible to shove it through a hole enough to then grab the end on the outside with the pliers.  Another reason to only do a few holes!

A perfect bow

STEP 5: Fur
If you want to be a REAL elf, you've gotta have fur around your ankle.   The annoying part is that you're working with a circle, and this material is stiff.  So just kind of bending it to fit isn't going to work.  Therefore, I cut one piece of fur long enough to cover the back half, and two smaller pieces that would go from the back fur to the laces.  I trimmed it to look less geometric, but as you can see in the final photo, it looks real bad.  Whatever.  My good glue ran out by this step, and the less hardcore Fabri-Tac kind didn't cut it with the synthetic backing of the fur, so I swore a lot and strained my thumb muscles to get more out of the good tube.  If you're getting low on strong glue, save it for the fur and use crappy, inferior glue for other parts.

Fur of a real baby polar bear

Ignore the ribbon!  I'm just showing you the fur, goddamnit!

STEP 6: Ribbon
We'll call it ribbon, but isn't it "bric a brac" or something in the crafting world?  Or is that only if it's zig-zag?  The nice thing about putting a silvery thing along the line where fabric meets shoe is that it can cover the crappy job of cutting you did.  This step is pretty self-explanatory: glue glue glue.  Then hours of fun peeling the glue that oozed through the holes off your fingers.

It's beginning to look a LOT like Christmas.

Voilá!  You're done!  I still have to trim the bits of green that ended up below the ribbon line, but my Exacto knife is too gluey so I need to find another means.  Elf shoes are best served with striped tights!

Trying out the multiple angles like in photos of shoes for sale online

Doesn't look like a Dansko sneaker at all!  Humor me here, folks...

Kicking some Christmas ass

Feel free to leave a comment with any questions.  Happy crafting!

 

Oh, just standing here.

Sophie's Smokin' Cheesebox

Happy Holiday Season, folks!  This December is sort of a milestone, because it's my fifth elf season.  Crazy that it's already been five years (actually, four, right) since I first bought green fabric and studied elf costumes online while designing mine.

Here's a throwback to my first-ever day elf busking, in Copley Square, Boston:

Let's see...no elf shoes, no elf ears, no petticoat, no hand warmers, no paint job on box (it looks so naked!), no pretty sign, and certainly no puppet.  I didn't yet own a backpacker backpack, since I ditched that red pack in favor of the day pack that came with my big pack that Christmas.  I was using these red nylon straps I bought on eBay and received in a re-used frozen pierogi box, and I was in my reddish hair phase.  When this photo was taken I had never played in Northampton, which is hard to imagine.

Oh, almost forgot, my accordion was a reindeer:

Fast-forward four years, and my act is very different.  I'm a real busker now!  And today, I proved myself to be "hardcore," and I am proud of it.  Here's the "after," split up, since no photo of the two of us together from this elf season has shown up yet:

It was a really fabulous day, which I needed.  Town was hopping since it's the penultimate Saturday before Christmas, the Nutcracker had two shows, and there was a Christmas tree lighting celebration around the corner.  So I set up at 11:30, to make sure I got a spot and to get the lunch crowds, and packed up at 7:00.  Phew!

I was quite uncomfortable at times.  The wind was gusting, and I lost some money as a result.  Be grateful, you Brits and Europeans, that you earn mostly metal!  I alternated periods of being fine to periods of being cold, even after I ran inside to add more thermals while a kind passerby who also happens to be my mother guarded my setup.  My feet hurt, my ears hurt with the pressure of the hat, and my left fingertips were getting inexplicably split open.  My body generally ached from both playing accordion and doing foot-puppetry and the added fatigue of bending my knees and elbows through 4-5 layers of clothing.

And this is why it's a job; why I can call it "going to work," and why I'm satisfied when I come home tired.  Last night, as I was walking to the car, I was following three young guys who had just exited an open mic holding guitars.  One of them suggested "we should play on the sidewalk sometime this summer," and the others enthusiastically agreed.  Right, "this summer."  I resisted the urge to tell them that you're either a busker or you're not, because nobody likes a contrary elf.

It is sessions like today's--marathons, cold, or both--that make me LOVE being a busker, not loathe it, and want to play even more, once my biceps stop spasm-ing.  I am also pleased to call today my second-longest outing ever, at 7.5 hours, just behind the 8 hours on New Year's Eve 2012.  Phew!  I put a lot of time and money into my act, into making it look good, and especially into costumes.  I recently spent more than I made last weekend purchasing more lights, velcro, fabric glue, ribbon, elastic, etc., and was wondering if it was really worth it.  And with quotes like "You deserve something for your costume alone" and "I don't usually give to buskers but you've obviously put a lot of work into this" and just "you look fabulous," I'm sure that it is.  I love my goddamn elf costume.

Before we get to the goodies, I must mention how wonderful the men at Ted's Boot Shop are.  Since I abandoned my old regular spot two weeks ago and set up in front of their shop, they have been welcoming, supportive, and encouraging.  Various employees have invited me to come in and warm up and one reportedly returned to the shop after his break, around my hour six, and announced "Sophie's hardcore!"  It's nice to be appreciated!

It's been a long time since I've written a post full of numbered tidbits, and I've got a whole page of notes.  Here we go!

Saturday, December 13, 2014

1.  I often hear people read my signs aloud, and today included a good one: "Sophie's......smokin'......cheesebox!"  Close!

2. I've discovered the limit of how many movements the human body can do at once: playing accordion, doing a foot-puppet, and smiling are okay, but don't try to additionally wink!

3. Sometimes people will compliment a song, then say "Keep it going!"  And it's often unclear if it's just a "keep up the good work" or if they actually want me to keep that song going.  If they don't and I re-start it, they're like "Uhhh you just played that."  Can't win!

4. There's an old lady in town who often stops by with her walker, and always wants me to play Christmas songs.  I began Jingle Bells for her, and she just lit up when she saw the puppet dancing.  So she gave me strict instructions: "Make her dance faster now!  Faster!!"  I'm going, I'm going!

5. So....my dream came true.  One of my many busker fantasies, this one active since the summer.  A man, just a normal white-haired middle-aged man, not even a metal dude, came up and asked, "How about some Iron Maiden this Christmas?"  !!!!!!  I actually asked if it was a joke, since I have so badly wanted someone to request it.  So I gave him the main riff of "Fear of the Dark" and we were both extremely happy.

6.  Speaking of which, I've been trying to determine which of my songs is least Christmas-y.  "Twin Peaks" and "Werewolves of London" are both in the running, but "Fear of the Dark" is disqualified due to its relevant solstice themes.

7.  I was talking to some "fans" when I heard one of the Ted's Boot Shop guys addressing my crowd as well.  He was saying, "Look at her outfit.  Now look at her marionette's outfit!  They match!"  Aw, thanks, John!!

8. I can't believe I hadn't thought of this before: when you're taking a selfie with someone and that someone is an elf, you're taking a freaking ELFIE.

9. "Game of Thrones...love it!!!" says a passerby.  A really old lady, that is!  "Love it" is right!

10. I had a request for Beer Barrel Polka late tonight, when I had full gloves on, a combination I usually don't agree to, but I was able to do it!  Go figure.

11.  The best part about having a marionette, just saying, is that when you reach down to grab money or whatever you can talk to her, compliment her performance, point out a passerby, etc.  Tonight I secretly fist bumped her, and quickly tried to make it look like I was adjusting something.

12. It was a good night for song recognition: I got specific compliments for Twin Peaks, Wallace and Gromit, Downton Abbey, and Werewolves of London.

13.  How could I forget the clementines!  When I left the house this morning, I put a clementine into my bag to eat later.  When I started playing it was clear that I needed an extra paperweight for my money, so I  implemented the clementine.  Later, I was fishing around for gloves #1 in my bag, and found another clementine, so I added it.  When it was time for gloves #2 I found ANOTHER clementine.  At various points looking in my bag, I found a total of five clementines.  No wonder my bag has been so heavy!  I bring them when I busk, but then never eat them.

14.  It's no secret that beggars don't like me.  My first weekend back, I set up not far from a lady who was begging.  After a while her co-beggar walked by, and when she reached their setup I clearly heard the first one say, "You see what I'm up against?"  I do feel a little guilty, since they'd probably make more money if I wasn't there.  So I've begun giving them money sometimes, since it's in my best interest to be on their good sides, if possible, and I've begun a nice camaraderie with the woman  who sells her crocheted goods.  She stays out late so I walk by her on the way to the car, and I've started giving her my hand-warmers since they still have hours of warmth and I'm done with them.  There isn't a point to this bit here, just thinking aloud, I guess, about the busker vs. beggar debate.

15. Lastly, I saw so many wonderful people that I know, which is always fabulous.  High school people, teachers, former co-workers, parents of friends, "fans," neighbors, you name it.  These people, in addition to strangers, warm my heart and bring me hot chocolates!

This is getting a little too cheesebox, so I'll sign off and go to bed.  I'll feel this in the morning!  (The busking, not the blogging.)

Till next time.

Praha, Prosím

We're moving right along!  Since the weekend in Antwerp, I had a lovely four days in Berlin where I did not busk, but did get to know this amazing city, with all its street art, speakeasies, fusbier, and vegan cafes.  This morning I boarded an orange and blue Flixbus, a bit shakily due to the previous two nights' speakeasies and fusbier, and woke up a few hours later in Prague.  Seeing signs in Czech made me all warm and fuzzy (or maybe that was the Dramamine); I was coming back to one of my homes.  I was excited to "speak" Czech again, even if it just meant talking about potatoes.

Now that I'm in the third country since I left the UK, I'm really feeling like I'm on tour.  I forget which language to speak.  I'd be lying if I said I liked setting up in new places every week; I waste so much time wandering around looking for a spot.  Tonight I finally found something and was nearly set up when I was told to move on.  Nooo!

But along with the frustration of learning the ropes in a new city is the excitement of being seen for the first time; of playing for all new people, surrounded by different scenery.  And so once I got going, tonight was really nice.  Being a busker, I do most transactions in cash, usually coins, and I don't like straying from this.  When I pay with my card or withdraw currency, it means I haven't been busking enough, and I'd prefer if my savings stayed put.  I have been using my euros earned in Antwerp, and it was a nice feeling having a surplus to change into koruna upon my arrival in Prague. Hopefully I'll continue to earn more than I'm spending, and pay for the rest of my Europe trip on the go.

I did have some trouble with police tonight, though.  In my first spot, a police car drove up and stopped near me.  I kept playing and glanced in the car, where one seemed to be doing something on his lap.  The only answer I could think of was that he was writing me my first busking citation.  Guess that's my busker initiation done!  Why else weren't they coming to talk already?  It maaaaay have been because they were letting me finish my song (Twin Peaks, Laura's Theme), which is super nice, but who knows.  When they finally exited the car, it was just to nicely tell me that it was forbidden to play there, but that I could play on the street around the corner until 22:30.  It was annoying to pack up, but it was fine.  So I set up around the corner, and after another hour a different cop came by, and asked me, "What's this?" What does it look like? "It's my puppet."  He said that that street was forbidden for music, and that I had to stop at 21:30 anyway.  Come on, cops, get your story straight!

I had one suitor tonight, who asked what time I was finishing.  I told him, thinking he wanted to take over at my spot.  But instead he invited me to have a coffee with him, citing his reasoning as, "I love you.  I love girls who do hobbies."  I'm definitely his girl, then!  (I'm currently at my hostel writing a blog post, not romantically strolling across the Charles Bridge with him, in case you were wondering.)

One British teenage boy saw my sign and said, "Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox...I wonder what she's smoking!"  Hey-oh!  So his friend said, "Yeah...WEED!"  Good one.  And the girl in the group sarcastically said, "Oh you're SO funny."  Youth!  

The nicest part of the evening for me was the two little girls who watched me play for a while.  They were there when the second cop shut me down, and they lingered while I packed up.  We confirmed that they only mluvím Český and I only mluvím Anglický, so they couldn't engage me in adorable conversation.  But we had a nice interaction anyway: I handed them Sylvie while I put some stuff away, then began picking up coins to put in my bag, and conjured up my basic Czech numbers I learned this summer to count: jedna...dva...tri...then let the girls take over, which they did enthusiastically.  Every once and I while I yelled "Sto!" (100) but it was not #sto.  They ended up picking up all my money for me, which was a big help!  

Hopefully the Indian summer will continue, and I'll have a few gorgeous days to enjoy my beloved Vltava River, practice my Czech, and earn some travel money.

Dobrou noc!

Alstublieft Again

Due to some complicated travel-related circumstances, I had to rush from London to continental Europe last Friday.  With just a few hours to prepare I spent my pounds, topped up my UK phone, and then found myself back in the land of ubiquitous bicycles and signs that look like they had been typed by my cat: Belgium.

I tended to some business in Ghent, then took the train to Antwerp, the home of my great-grandmother until circa 1920 when she took a Red Star Line ship across the ocean to New York.  Her siblings stayed behind, so we have cousins there: my grandmother's firsts, my mother's seconds, and even a few of my thirds.  I made the "pilgrimage" to visit them in April of 2012, during my first Europe busking tour, and I was happy that the silver lining of this fiasco, or "chocolate lining," in Belgium, meant that I got to see them again.

These are kind, generous people, with many travel experiences, and I really enjoyed visiting them again.  They took great care of me and my accordion!

I was also happy to be back in Antwerp because I remembered doing quite well busking last time.  In April 2012 my act was in the middle of a short-lived "one woman band" phase, in which I strapped percussion instruments to my feet and played a kazoo, accompanied by accordion.  There was no dancing puppet; there was merely a puppet (Flaca) sitting near me with her own tip box because kids liked to give her the money.  Here we are then, playing in front of the then-closed Frituur Number 1.

Here's my blog post from that first time in Antwerp.

Because of recent fiasco-related expenses, I really needed to start making money, so the rain cleared on Saturday and I set up for what was a really good night.  The Frituur is open now, so I pitched right across the street.

I had a nervous moment when two police vehicles pulled up and parked right next to me.  I hadn't gotten a busking permit!  Uh-oh!  But it turns out, being the good Belgians that they are, they just wanted french fries from the Frituur.  Phew!  You can faintly see their vests in this year's Frituur photo, taken from my spot across the street:

It was just a really good Saturday night, followed by a really good Sunday afternoon.  People were everywhere, and they were generous.  I went home with more €2 coins than €1 coins.  Kids were dancing.  After an hour the french fry lady gave me a gesture to request that I move on, and I continued around the corner which was even better.  The street was quiet, except for the quarter-hour church bells, and the cobblestone streets and old buildings gave the scene its character.

I had a major score on Sunday: I went to the chocolate store and the girl working said they were low on change.  So I went back after playing and swapped coins for bills, and since she thought I was doing THEM a favor gave me some Belgian chocolates!  Yessss.

Here's Sylvie, with her brand-new Poundland "stagelights," in front of the building with all the flags:

I try to take a minute to reflect when I find myself busking where I've busked before, after time has passed.  I tried to summon up the spirit or whatever of 2012 Sophie, across the street with her auburn hair and old piano dress.  The fact that she didn't know what would happen on her trip, but I do.  Her slight cold would turn into a bad case of strep, wiping out her upcoming weekend in Paris and sending her to family friends in Switzerland for antibiotics and R&R.  She would spontaneously decide to go to Israel, have a fabulous eye-opening experience, and go snorkeling for the first time.  About a month from that day busking, she would spend six hours detained at the Ediburgh airport, having no idea if she would be allowed to finish her adventure there. 

I am once again at the beginning of a trip, with so many unknowns.  Maybe in two years I will go back to Antwerp, set up in the same spot again with an awesome puppet act that can do all the things I want it to do, playing complete Iron Maiden albums, and I'll have a similar reflection.  I'll know whether or not I got my India visa in time, I'll be able to picture Budapest, and I'll know if it was indeed a bad idea to send my fleece jacket home this early.  Maybe that spot will remind me of what was on my mind in October of 2014: the fact that I was sad to rush out of the UK without seeing some key friends, or not enough of them; the amazing guy I left behind in Glasgow; how overjoyed I am to have bought this beautiful blue leather jacket for £10 at Camden Market; trying to figure out how to use my new smartphone.

I know I've changed since last time.  I had a way better haircut then, and I didn't have these bullshit eye wrinkles.  I know who I am as a traveler and know what I hope to achieve.  I don't mind long bus journeys as much.  I have more friends around around the world than I did two years ago, and I know how to say "Do you speak English?" in many more languages.  In other ways, I'm the same.  I'll still survive off of bread, cheese, and raw carrots on this trip; I still have a "bus bag" stocked with motion sickness pills; my 2007 iPod nano is still trucking along; and I tow the same, painted accordion box, only it's now joined by a Batman lunchbox full of puppet supplies.

So now I'm off on the trip that will get me my 30th country, and hopefully achieve my first four-continent year (come on, India visa!!!).  Stay tuned for updates from Hungary and Slovakia, possibly Slovenia and Croatia.

Till next time!

The Festival Fringe

There it is: a second Edinburgh Fringe under my belt!  As my piano outfit gets laundered and my biceps, well, do nothing, I'm taking a moment to reflect on, and explain, this experience.

A Day in the Life, in my case, begins at City Cafe, where we squeeze as many buskers as possible into a booth for breakfast (or just espresso, if you're Tommy Brando), and I do my hair and makeup downstairs in the bathroom, having rushed out of the house for the draw.

A little history:  
The Edinburgh Festival Fringe is the largest arts festival in the world, with over 3,000 acts from around the world.  It began in 1947, when, according to the official website, "...eight theatre groups turned up uninvited to perform at the (then newly formed) Edinburgh International Festival, an initiative created to celebrate and enrich European cultural life in the wake of the Second World War."

And so the city is packed: every bar turns into a venue, filling basements and attics with fold-out chairs.  The Royal Mile is a zoo as performers flyer for their shows, a necessary task given the magnitude of the show catalog.  Every night at 22:30 (21:00 and midnight on Saturdays), fireworks erupt from the castle as the grand finale of the Military Tattoo spectacle. 

My job, in addition to ooh-ing at the fireworks, keeping the Scottish breakfast industry alive, and seeing shows like everyone else, is to entertain people on the Royal Mile by performing.

Here's how it works: You register to be either a [walk-by] "busker" or a [circle-show] "street performer."  Each category has its own draw.  Statues, balloon artists, caricaturists, etc. have a different system.  You additionally register to be part-time or full-time.  Part-timers get a handful of slots pre-assigned throughout the festival.  Full-timers attend the draw every morning at 10:00.  We drop our passes into a tote bag, sometimes sprinting the last hundred yards as the church bells chime, and await our names to be pulled to choose the day's slots.

Actually, it does give us super powers.

People really do come from everywhere.  At the busker draw, we had people from around the UK, Ireland, Italy, France, Sweden, Poland, Germany, Portugal, the Netherlands, as well as the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, and various Asian countries.  There are performers of all ages and levels of experience, with a variety of talents.  We had a traditional Scottish trio, musical saw player, rhythmic guitarists, jugglers, contact jugglers, magicians, a country singer, a saxophone player, a didgeridoo player, a spandex-wearing high-energy dancer (how do you describe Spandy Andy anyway?), and so much more.  There was another [awesome] puppet act: Dave sits in a puppet theater like Sylvie's but bigger and puts his arms through Mr. Pee-Wee's sleeves.  Mr. Pee-Wee, as you may have guessed, is a puppet, and he plays a drum set along with music.  And it all attaches to a bicycle.

Here's the group picture, although it's missing a lot of awesome performers:

 The street is staffed by stewards wearing red t-shirts, red hoodies, or, most frequently this year, red raincoats.  They hold a big board in the morning with sign-up sheets where we sign up for half-hour slots at six busking pitches on the Mile and the Mound with their own distinct set of regulations regarding amplification.  Throughout the day, the stewards regulate volume, keep track of time, and get rid of unruly flyerers.  The Street Events staff also provides three big storage containers that are securely locked overnight.  These things are what make busking at the festival luxurious: not having to fight for spots, having someone to deal with confrontations for us, and not having to haul gear around.

But I'll be honest: busking at the Fringe is hard.  Here's why:

1. The street is loud.  Between show promoters, passersby, and fellow performers who are much closer than they'd be ordinarily, it can be hard to be heard.  I was feeling it in my aching biceps as I tried to pump my accordion as loudly as I could. 

2. Not everyone realizes we're performing.  The street is mobbed with people in costumes--nuns, construction workers, Hitler--doing whatever it takes to draw attention to their shows, often including singing and dancing.  So some passersby think we're merely promoting shows so they don't tip.  I really think they ought to mark the pitches to make them look like performance spaces.

3. There's competition.  I mean that people spend a lot of money here on shows, so you have to do something to stand out; really impress people to earn tips.

4. Flyerers.  Some flyerers promote their shows quietly and respectfully.  Others make life extremely difficult for buskers.  Seriously, groups stage entire musical numbers right in front of a busking pitch.  They play musical instruments, sing, dance, or theatrically drop dead.  I had repeated trouble with a group of French acrobats who would put on a show in front of me, rendering me playing to the back of people's heads.  Most flyerers ignore requests from buskers to stop, well from me at least.  Stewards with clipboards and walkie-talkies are successful shutting them down, but in the case of the acrobats, they take their sweet time ending their promo.  I've lost half a slot due to loud, disrespectful flyerers.  A fellow busker and friend Pockets, drummer for "Affordable Chocolate" and "Jen and the Gents" had the great idea of arming himself with a water gun for such incidents.  However, one day, he unsuccessfully asked a stubborn flyerer to stop, let loose with the water gun, and got punched in the face.  This should indicate the tensions on the Mile sometimes.

5. Weather.  This August was particularly cold and rainy.  It rarely got past 65 degrees (18 celsius), and it rained at least once pretty much every day.  So I missed a lot of slots.  

But...finally, the last week, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to play anyway.  I remembered that I successfully bungeed an umbrella to my body last summer, so I did it again, but with my new piano umbrella.  This looked pretty awesome, which of course caused more people to take photos without tipping.  And soaked my signs, set list, cardboard puppet accessory box, etc.  Probably not worth it, but the acoustics were great under the umbrella!  Here's the soggy set list and umbrella action:

And here's Geordie rescuing Adam:

So I wasn't making loads of money, especially during my slots.  Many of us tended to do better in other parts in town, and I returned to my old farmer's market gigs, which were much more lucrative.  I'm leaving with a profit, albeit small, which I'm planning to blow on a trip to the Highlands this week.  This is okay; I'm here for the experience.  I'm here to meet new friends and reunite with old ones, be in an amazing city, and soak up inspiration from all the creative minds.

The best part of the Fringe by far, for me, is the people.  It really feels like summer camp for performers.  We all rendezvous every morning for the draw, then often go out for breakfast after.  There are inside jokes and pranks.  Lots of laughter, and ample hugs.  We hang around all day on the hang-out steps and just chat (and complain about the rain).  We go for drinks at the end of the day, and sometimes see a show.  Here's Matthew eating anchovies with a stalk of celery on the hang-out steps:

My Personal Experience
My Fringe wasn't perfect this year.  There were some days I "did it right," and others I didn't.  I wish I had seen more shows, and done more with my own show.

The main mistake was that my act was and is not ready for a festival like this yet.  I planned to use last November and December making my act really good for the Fringe.  But I didn't.  I planned to use last April and May making my act really good for the Fringe.  I did make my new outfit and prepare a new marionette, but there was so much more I could have done.  Finally, I planned to use all my free time in the Czech Republic in June and July writing a show and practicing it, so I'd have a killer act when I got here.  But I didn't.  My act evolved a bit during the festival, but not to where I want it to be.

I did attract crowds.  I'll give us that: blondes in matching piano dresses, one twelve inches tall, can draw a crowd.  But I don't have a show to hold their attention; I just have songs.  Sylvie is adorable, but she only has two movements.  Once she does them, that's it.  I did some little changes, like dramatically looking at her when she hits the bell, to make it more interesting, and reducing the percentage of each song in which she dances to keep it special. 

 Through my own ideas and suggestions from others, I now have a plethora of new features to implement.  I'll say this again: I now plan to use September in Edinburgh to get my act where I want it to be.

The main new addition during the Fringe is the platform.  Because there's so much foot traffic, passersby can't see the puppet theater if there are already people stopped.  So I bought two fold-up stools, scored some scrap plywood at a theater, cut it to size using Edgar the Musical Saw Player's saws, and covered the whole setup with black fabric.  It really looks much better now, although the extra setup is time-consuming and my laden trolley is cumbersome.  Here's the new setup, during a rare bit of sunshine:

I also started talking to my crowds, which really made a difference.  My revenue almost doubled the second half of the festival when I began addressing crowds.  My goal was just to convey the message that I was playing for tips, since apparently it's not always clear.  At its shortest, if I chickened out, my speech was "Hi folks, I'm Sophie and this is Sylvie and we hope you like our show."  At its most convincing: "Hi folks, my name is Sophie and this is Sylvie.  This is what I do for a living and this is my creation; it's one of a kind.  I appreciate any contributions if you like the show."  And at its "funniest:" "Sylvie and I met at the Fringe last year.  She asked if she could join my act, so I'd told her I'd see if I could pull some strings."  Eh? Eh?  Ahh, puppet humor.

One day in the Grassmarket a man jokingly remarked to a child, "The puppet dances and that causes the lady to play the accordion."  Love it!  So I worked that into my banter too.  During the last week, I started remembering some of the stuff I used to say to crowds last time.  Like asking a very small child if they prefer the Rolling Stones or Queen.  Anyway, stay tuned for a whole new Sophie and Sylvie show full of banter, jokes, and complicated puppet movement.

So, friends, here are my "rules for next year."  I'd call them "tips," but not everyone has the same goals.  Some of these I did well this year, others I did not:

Tips for a Successful Fringe if You're Kinda Like Me:

1. Come prepared.  With a solid, interesting act.  Do something to stand out, and have it ready in time.  It can be hard to find time to develop anything other than a beer-belly once the Fringe has begun.

2. Do your best show.  Simple as that.  There's so little time to convince people to stay and watch and tip.

3.  See good shows.  This year, I saw a lot of bad free comedy at the last minute.  Next time, I will research shows, seek recommendations, take advantage of half-price tickets and preview dates, and spend money on good, reputable shows rather than winging it and ended up at crappy shows.

4. Meet venue performers.  There are simply so many performers here in venue shows, and I met some fun ones at the very end.  I wish that I had made the effort to meet performers, either through seeing their shows and talking to them after, or just at Fringe Central, and reaped the benefits in the form of having more friends in cool places, performance connections, and discounts on show tickets!

No, this doesn't count, since we didn't become BFFs.

5. Pack food.  Busker breakfast is a magical thing, and it's important for social aspects.  However, any other food I purchase throughout the day is just to satisfy hunger.  A busker who packs food saves more money.

6. Utilize Fringe Central.  Although it's not really central, the Fringe participant headquarters is awesome.  There are sofas and beanbags (yep, I took naps), chairs and tables, a cafe, computers, printers, bathrooms, and office supplies.  I did a lot of work on my act--big things like velcroing plywood and small things like restringing my puppet--when it was just too cold and windy to work outside.  So I'd set up shop in Fringe Central for a while. 

7. Busk a lot!  "Guerilla busking," "fly-pitching," "top-secret spy stuff"...whatever you call playing outside of your slots, go do it.  There are so many extra people on the street during August, and it's a great time to make extra money.

8. Befriend the buskers.  This year, I flocked to the buskers I met last time I was here, and didn't start talking to unfamiliar people until far too long.  Once I did I expanded my busker friend group which was great, but there were still so many that I didn't talk to very much.  I could have contacts in so many more places if I had made more of an effort.  Course, we can only fit so many at one booth for breakfast.  Due to the draw, my competitive and territorial tendencies are gone, so there's no excuse to not all be friends.  It's great to have people with whom to go to shows, share a drink, walk home, etc.

....and a Day in the Life ends in City Cafe, exhausted, in the bathroom, where I observe how smudged my makeup has gotten over the course of the day.

I'm sure I'll be back someday, maybe not next year, but before too long.  Those of you reading this: add "Go to Edinburgh Fringe" to your bucket list!

Day-After burritos with some favorites

Kisses for My Barbie

July 4th marked one month here in Cesky Krumlov!  The busking continues to be solid, despite some rainy days.  The one hiccup has been having to move five feet to the left due to a puddle of urine on my exact favorite spot.  Ah, well.

I'm going to skip an intro, because this post's anecdotes are numerous, and they say it all.

Only a minor preface:
The hunt continues for the perfect name for my puppet.  Since the last update, these are the names that have come to mind.  Let me know if you like one a lot or have a new idea!  They are: May (busking mentor in Ptown, month I bought her), Eve (in honor of busking mentor Jaia), Clementine (because she's my darling), Sylvie, Poppy, Estrella, Greta (because she was originally Gretel), Dagmar (because it has family significance and the cool Czech girl in this cafe I'm writing in is named Dagmar).  I'm sure I'll have a whole new batch by the next post.

Anyway....June 19-July 6, 2014

1. People continue to be absolutely flabbergasted that I am American.  I'm serious, people ask where I'm from, I tell them, and their eyes widen; their jaws drop.  "Are you kidding me?" (Seriously, people learn that phrase in English.)  "No way." This one Italian family looked at each other for moral support.  Everyone who assumes I'm Russian looks like this when they learn the truth:

I told one person I speak English, and he said, "Are you from England?" "No." "Russia?"  Really?  Russia is the second guess for an English-speaker?  I'm expecting the Cesky Krumlov Times to publish this front page: 

A man stopped by to ask my hours for the following day.  After a quick conversation and performance, he revealed that he's a tour guide for an American group, and he thought his travelers might like to hear me because I speak English and I know American movies and songs.  Even he didn't put it together; there's a reason I speak English and know American movies and songs.

2. On multiple occasions people have offered me licks of their ice cream.  And most days someone offers me a swig of their drink!  Hey, it's sort of a beach town.  One night, a group of young Czech men stopped by.  One approached me holding a bottle of rum in one hand and a bottle of Coke in the other.  He offered me a swig of both, which I declined.  He then bent down to extend them to the puppet, and humorously said, "For you or your bike!"  Yeah, that's just not what that is.  "Doll" or "girl" is okay, but she is not a bike.  I wonder if the words are similar in Czech.

These guys asked where I'm from, so I said "The USA."  One said, robotically, "Are you kidding me?"  I specified, "Massachusetts."  Another guy spoke up and said, "Boston, Massachusetts!?  I am a lifelong Celtics fan."  So I asked him, "Why are you a lifelong Celtics fan?"  He replied, "Bill Russell!!  And Larry Byrd is my white basketball hero because I am a white man." Fair enough.  I played "Sweet Caroline" but I guess he's not THAT much of a Boston-er.

The next night these guys came by again, this time in full red, yellow and black apparel, clearly headed to watch World Cup.  Not following the game schedule, I asked them, "Belgium or Germany?"  They replied, "Colombia!"  Guess it was blue.  These guys are full of surprises.
3. A guy asked for metal and did a detailed drumming mime.  Others asked for Metallica and ACDC.  Guess I have to fill this gap in my repertoire!

4. A textbook fantasy-entertainment-type nerd walked by, so I confidently played the opening chords to Game of Thrones.  He kept walking, expression unchanged.  I couldn't believe it; he looked perfect.  I was like this:

But then he got it, grinned, and turned around.  Yes, nailed that one!

5. Speaking of which, I'm trying to think of a term for when I play G of T thinking someone will recognize it, but they don't.  A "King's Missed Landing?"  "Harren-fail?"

6. Some young guys in Lederhosen stopped by.  "I have the number for a taxi, will you tell me where is the nearest strip tease club?"  Seriously, you ask the girl in the modest piano dress?  Not any of the dozens of young drunk men harassing me?  "Prague!"

 7. Just a nice thing: I got caught in the rain.  I felt it in the air, eyed the cloud, and planned to pack up BEFORE the rain started.  Of course I didn't, and quickly scooped up everything and went under a tunnel thing to pack up properly.  This was a nice little happenstance, because the tunnel led to a tiny covered porch behind a Pension that had about three picnic tables full of drinkers, and a musical duo or trio including lovely accordion wafting through the air.

8. A shocking thing happened: someone interrupted G of T, my most popular song!  That never happens!  But it was okay because he requested....Twin Peaks!

9.  A guy stopped to talk and revealed that he's a musican as well.  He had a strong accent, and asked if I like "tone ways."  "Sure!" I said, not a mega-expert on music theory.  Who doesn't like tone ways?  Turns out he meant "Tom Waits."  Ohhhh.

10. One unpleasant character is this drunk disheveled guy who wears a leather vest and has a mohawk.  I think I've already posted about him.  He walks by and tips me, then walks by again and asks for some money.  Last time he walked by three times, leaving a tip each time, and the third time hesitated before also throwing in a Snoopy eraser.

On a particularly drunk-or-worse night, he stood a few feet to my left and leaned against the bridge's rail, beginning to doze off.  It was dark out and I was playing slow songs, so I don't blame him.  I tried to suddenly come in loudly and rouse him, like this:

11. During "Paint it Black" a girl walked by and enthusiastically exclaimed what sounded like "Sal drooy antoony!"  Any Czech speakers have an idea?

12. Last week included both Canada Day and U.S. Independence Day.  Canada Day in particular tends to be good for busking wherever I am.  After a few rounds of "O Canada" I have it down well enough, and normally it brings down the house.  But it was a quiet night and my neighbors to the north were few and far between.  Next year!

On the 4th of July, there happened to be some random fireworks, so I limped through the difficult "Star Spangled Banner" and got a celebratory fist in the air.  We'll count that!
  
13. Speaking of which, there is always a single firework at 9:30, before it's dark enough to see.  Not sure what that's about.  Maybe it's the "buskers go home" alarm.

14: Just a recap for Future Me to remember the people I see every night: Filip from the restaurant at one end of the bridge, the guy who drives the Hotel Anděl van, the super nice guy with the blue car, the friendly cop, the nice lady from the toy store, the lady who maybe goes swimming but ignores me, that guy who comes from the left and says dobry den, the fat guy who comes from the right and says dobry den, the Czech girl who works at the Chinese restaurant, the cute guy with the dog.

15. I saw a heavily-primped guy walk by wearing a t-shirt into which he had cut a low neck to show off his chest.  First time I've seen a guy do that.  Other interesting fashion: the lady wearing jaguar-print pants with cow-print crocs; the pretty, made-up otherwise stylish [Asian] tourist wearing huge khaki overalls with factory-added multi-colored paint dribbles all over; the girl with a velour track jacket with "Noxious" written on the back in rhinestones; and other questionable English shirts on foreigners ("Balls Deep.")

16. A group of hooligans walked by, and one guy pointed to another and said, "His name is David Seagull." It wasn't that, but that's the closest I can get.  I asked, "What?" several times, thinking it might be a famous person.  The fourth time, the guy said, "His name is David Seagull, he's twenty-two years old, and he's a good person."  :)

17. Young drunken asshole across the bridge mockingly bowed at some Asian tourists. Classy.

18. I've been mentally drafting a list of "Things Not to Do to Buskers" for a future blog post.  An older Italian man with a mullet in a ponytail gave me an idea for another when he stood next to me, puckered his lips, and headed for my cheek.  Don't worry, I dodged it.  Thou shalt not kiss thine buskers.

This has actually become a thing now: people (men) wanting me to kiss their cheeks.  So I started saying "Sorry, I only have kisses for my girl," motioning to my puppet.  For one guy, I pointed to the puppet and started to deliver that line, and he interrupted me and said, "Only for your....[thought of word and discussed with friends in Czech]...Barbie!"  Ha, close enough.

19.  Cesky Krumlov does sort of have a beach town vibe, since people come from out of town to go rafting on the river and drink all day.  It's common for people to walk around with plastic cups full of beer or mojitos, so liquid landing in my box is a concern.  I've started to be strict about this, and made one guy step off the sidewalk before I would play.  I went as far as to take off my accordion and put it down, behind me, and repeat that I wouldn't play until I had some personal space.  I should learn "The reason I want you to get off the sidewalk is that I do not want beer on my things" in Czech.

20. "Where are you from?"  "The USA."  "CALIFORNIA!!!!!!!"  "No, Massachusetts."  "......MASSACHUSETTS!!!!!!"  "[Babble babble Czech Czech] The Beegees!"  Right, I keep forgetting to learn the Beegees' "Massachusetts."

21. I constantly worry that I am going to indirectly kill somebody this summer.  I play on a relatively narrow bridge where people walk in the street.  When cars come by, pedestrians clear out, unless they're distracted by me.  And drivers usually brake for pedestrians, unless they're distracted by me.  Uh-oh!

22. A dwarf walked by while I was playing G of T, and I was worried that he thought I was playing it because of him and was offended!  That's a new one.

23. I was speaking English with a group of travelers I know from my hostel, and this older German (?) man invited himself to the conversation.  He thought he recognized G of T and asked what it was.  He asked what other movie songs I do, and I rattled off the list.  He said, "You should really learn 'Last of the Mohicans.'"  Noted.

24. Speaking of songs to learn, I had the idea to learn "Land Down Under" for Australians.  I ran this by an Australian, and he suggested "Waltzing Matilda" as well.  I don't think it's the old traditional one; rather a popular Aussie song.  I also thought to learn "Let's Get it On" for the times people are hardcore making out.

25. I played "Stayin' Alive" and an older man within a group grinned and said "Wreck me, baby!"  What?

26. Aw, I lied to a nice German lady.  She stopped me on the street to ask where I got my dress, and I said that I had made it.  She asked where I got the fabric, so I told her it was at a store in my small town in the United States.  It's from the internet.  I can't have someone walking around Germany in a matching dress!!

27. Apparently "accordion" in Czech is "harmonica" which is confusing.  But I'm getting used to it.

28. Maybe I said this in the last post, but some young people study Spanish!  So I offer it as a language I can communicate in, and once in a while the people summon their children to speak with me.

29. There is a young (eight-year-old?) gypsy-looking boy who walks by a lot, often stopping to listen.  This time, he stood to the right of my setup for a while, enthusiastically clapping and smiling after every song.  He speaks a tiny bit of English, and asked me for some money.  I said no.  Slippery slope.  But he stuck around for a while, and whenever I bent down to adjust something, he asked if he could help.

It was annoying having him because I was a little worried he'd help himself to some krona when I was looking the other way, so I didn't look the other way.  But then I didn't know if any nerds were going to walk by so I'd miss starting G of T in time!  Then the boy bent down and started drumming on the side of my box, so his hands were practically in my stash so I was on full alert.  Argh!

But then, my affection increased.  In three of my songs I do a keyboard swipe (you know, when you swipe your hand down the keyboard and sound aaaaawwwwwesome) (can't Google the official word because of the goddamn "Keyboard Swype" app).  I am really excited about these keyboard swipes, and when I mastered them, a feat I could never do on piano, I expected people to FREAK OUT!  I think my dad may have winked once, but that's the extent of the reaction to this feat.

But....this little gypsy boy on the bridge DID freak out.  It was in "Paint it Black" and he literally burst into applause and yelped mid-song because of the swipe.  So I warmed to him.  When a staggering drunk guy tossed a coin towards my box and missed by a mile, the boy hurried to pick it up and return it to the box.  So I told him to keep it.  He was super happy, and ran off.  Okay, that was the right move.  (Now you know how to get money from me, just love my swipes.)

The café (Ántré, of course, with Horká Čokoláda) is closing and my notes are finished, so this is the end.  In conclusion, things are going very well here and I've got a good rhythm down.  But I almost forgot!  I spent this afternoon with a tube of rubber cement and a bunch of bobby pins giving nameless-puppet a much better hairdo, covering her god-awful bangs!  Here she is!

 Goodnight!

Sophie's Smokin' Slavnosti

With three weeks under my belt, Cesky Krumlov continues to work out nicely.  I have vowed to nary wander from my bridge following an unpleasant experience playing in the town center in which the guy running a Bohemian Crystal store blasted music insanely high, definitely killing his own business, to either drown me out or get me to move.  So degrading.

But the good news is that my marionette is working!  I was having a hard time getting her to move how I wanted, but luckily there are TWO marionette museums in this town.  So I went to one of them on a rainy day, tried and failed to get in for free since it was a professional visit, and examined the wares.  Sure enough, looking at them (particularly legs and feet) gave me some ideas, and now my girl is dancing better!

Photo from my 2012 Cesky Krumlov visit

I also happened to meet an engineer who took a look at it and came up with some great solutions to improve the setup as well.  Time to take a trip to a Czech hardware store!

Improvements aside, the marionette took last weekend off.  The third weekend in June means one thing to Cesky Krumlov: Slavnosti Pětilisté Růže, or the Five-Petalled Rose celebration.  The already medieval town goes back in time and fills the squares, gardens, and theaters with era-appropriate entertainment and events.  Admission is free for people in costume, and many visitors and locals get into it and dress up.  My hostel's owner said that when her kids were babies, she covered them in knedlíčky dough and claimed they had the plague.  Whatever works!

And so the town was full of peasants, wenches, lords and ladies, monks.  Even Jesus, a jolly executioner, and a totally partied-out Mozart.  There were jesters, jugglers, snake charmers, and knights performing alongside rustic stalls selling sausages, Trdelník, warm mead, and beer.

On Friday I simply enjoyed the festivities (damn that mead is strong!), planning to busk Saturday.  I didn't think I could throw together a relevant costume in time, and planned to just wear my normal piano outfit.  But in people-watching I noticed many women wearing stuffed donut-like hats, and contemplated my inventory.  With the extra piano fabric I brought for emergencies and a needle and thread, I was able to follow the instructions on this awesome website and make a proper hat.  I stuffed it not with the hair of a dead woman as the instructions suggest, but with spare plastic bags:
 
http://www.virtue.to/articles/women_roll_hats.html

My friend and coworker Karen french-braided my hair and, with the hat on, decided my outfit would look better if I rolled up the top and rocked a hybrid belly-dancer look.  It's the rare occasion that I expose my belly (last time, for a college musical, a friend used stage makeup and expert shading to give me a six-pack), and I was glad to be in costume.  I learned that playing accordion with an exposed stomach gives you funny red marks that I have decided to call Bellow Belly.  Here are some photos of the styling session:

And Saturday I busked.  I opted to not bring my whole set-up because I wanted to be mobile.  So I walked around all day with my accordion on my back and collected tips in a basket lined with more piano fabric.

Festivals can be tricky, because heightened foot traffic doesn't always mean good tips.  Especially if folks pay admission to enter; they think all entertainment is included.  Luckily I did okay on the nice side street leading to the brewery which hosted events all day.  It wasn't mobbed, but steady foot traffic.  All the buskers were out, including several children playing "Greensleeves" on stringed instruments.

Of course, I don't have a great repertoire for medieval fairs.  Naturally I looped "Game of Thrones" as often as possible, punctuated with the odd Italian or Irish song.  At night I busted out the pop music.  Game of Thrones was a huge hit, and made me the vast majority of my tips for the weekend.  At one point, Jon Snow walked by.  That is, a guy with semi-shaggy dark hair wearing a black cloak with a fur top and carrying a sword with a white handle.  He showed signs of recognizing the song, so I asked him, "Jon Snow?"  He nodded.  So I said, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."  And he politely smiled and nodded, not understanding.  Oh come on!

Later that night, when my accordion was safely at home, I was walking to meet up with friends, and I came upon two cloaked figures in front of me.  One was humming Game of Thrones and I sincerely hope it was because of me.

I had an afternoon session, then didn't pick up again until about 22:30.  I've always said that busking is better when it's dark out, but it gets dark so late here that that doesn't happen in normal life.  But here the streets were still packed, and I did well playing until midnight when the fireworks began.  A man in a peasant outfit came by pulling a wagon full of sheep skins.  Sheep skins and an adorable little boy, also in peasant garb.  He barely fit in the wagon, lying down, and I think the idea was for me to play him to sleep.  He just watched me with his eyes open, smiling.  Warmed my heart. 

I tried playing after the fireworks, too, when people were leaving.  This wasn't great, but I achieved something I hadn't done before: busking after midnight.  I ended the night on my bridge, where the day began.  These two guys came by and started talking, so we did the standard charade of identifying English as the language to speak.  One of them held out his beer to me, and said, "Tasting?"  I declined, and his friend offered me a cigarette.  When I declined that too, they asked, "But what do you need?"  I said, "Nothing."  So the first guy said, kindly mocking, "I'm happy playing on the bridge; I don't need anything!"

Over the weekend I met another performer in the oft-tiny world of buskers: Paolo Garbanzo.  He hails from Virginia although he's the official court jester of a castle in England.  It turns out we know a few people in common, and have been at the same festivals at the same time.  Go figure.  Nice to know one more person in the field!

My favorite tipper of the weekend was a local bank teller.  Twice I've gone in to change coins into bills, and this one guy has helped me, and done so very warmly.  But everywhere I go when I show up to a bank with coins or $1 bills, I can't help but hope the teller is curious about where I got it all.  Here is no different, so I was pleased when this guy walked by in normal clothes with a lady, said hello, and tipped for Game of Thrones.

Equally heart-warming was this older very friendly cop, whom I met my first day busking.  He's the one who saw me drinking out of my water bottle and asked if it was alcohol.  Fast forward two weeks of waving when he drove by on my busking bridge: this time he walked by and asked, "Where is your marionette?"  I love small towns!

I highly enjoyed the spirit of the weekend, and now, four days later, I finally cut off my admission wrist-band.  Now it's time for the music festival!  Dobrou noc!