Storyteller Jeff Greenwald has some 'strange suggestions' Departures

It was my first morning back in the office after the experience of a lifetime: a seven-month journey around the world.

"So," asked a co-worker, "how was the trip?"

"Amazing," I said. "I ... "

"Wonderful, great, glad to hear it," he interrupted. "Hey, did you hear Thompson's moving to the copy desk?"

To steal a line from the late, great Erma Bombeck: No one wants to hear your travel stories. Not your parents, who gave you life. Not your kids, who are insecure and need your approval. Not your priest, minister or rabbi, who are paid to be kind and forgiving. Not even someone whose life you saved in the war and who owes you big.

One reason, I suspect, is that most travelers are really, really bad at telling stories. What they inflict on their audiences are often just itineraries with verbs: " ... then we went to the Louvre; then we went to the Eiffel Tower; then we went to Café Flores and had hot chocolate ... "

It doesn't have to be this way. With some conscious effort and a little practice, we can learn to spin yarns that won't glaze the eyes of our listeners. For advice I turned to the best storyteller I know, Jeff Greenwald. People actually pay to hear his travel tales.

A prolific traveler and writer, Greenwald captivates audiences with his unique stage performance, "Strange Travel Suggestions." (The title comes from a line by Kurt Vonnegut: "Strange travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.")

In the show, audience members are invited to spin a big wheel covered with hieroglyphic-like symbols for 30 topics, ranging from "The Kindness of Strangers" to "Meals of Misfortune" to "Creature Karma." Each stop on the wheel triggers an improvised and usually hilarious monologue culled from a lifetime of trotting the globe. (For details on "Strange Travel Suggestions," see box.)

Greenwald is a confident and accomplished stage performer, but the rest of us can learn from his storytelling techniques. I asked him for some tips, and this is what he told me:

"Everyone loves to hear a good story. This has been true ever since humans began to sit around the fire and recount their adventures on the way to the watering hole.

"People generally want to hear travel stories if there's something in the tale they can identify with - an episode (like a stolen passport, cultural faux-pas or transportation nightmare), a severe physical trial (food poisoning) or a surprising encounter that changed their minds about a place or culture.

"The secret of a good story, of any story, can be summed up in three words: beginning, middle, end. A story, as opposed to an anecdote, has a dramatic arc: There's a set-up, a situation and a resolution.

"The more satisfying the resolution, the better the story. It's kind of like telling a joke, in that timing is almost as important as content.

"One of my favorite stories from 'Strange Travel Suggestions' took place in Iran, during my visit for the total solar eclipse in 1999. Just before the eclipse, I was standing in a huge public square in Esfahan. Suddenly, a very small anti-American demonstration erupted nearby. To my astonishment, every Iranian within sight of me - men, women and children - stood up and formed a circle around me, protecting me from any possible danger. My guardians mocked the demonstrator and assured me that no harm would come to me.

"But the payoff of the story comes when I return home, and my friends express relief that I survived my visit. Despite all my wonderful experiences and encounters in Iran during the eclipse, the American news showed only close-ups of the flag-burning and demonstration. It's a poignant example of how narrow our view of other cultures can be, unless we make the effort to visit and interact with the people.

"In telling a story, little details provide a sense of place. In Iran, for example, I talk about how the Women's Mosque changes color as the sun disappears behind the moon, and how the locals use small mirrors to throw the image of the eclipsed sun - an Islamic crescent - onto nearby buildings.

"Humor, as always, is a great device - like when a gruff-looking Iranian man leans toward me, squeezes my shoulder, and says, 'You see those demonstrators? They should get a job!'

"People also love seeing touches of the familiar in exotic places: 'Star Trek' T-shirts on Nepalese porters, Coca-Cola machines outside of Zen monasteries, Indian mystics interrupting their discourses to answer cell phones programmed with the 'Mission: Impossible' theme.

"Exaggeration is certainly a part of storytelling, too. It's hard to avoid it. During a story set in Calcutta, for example, I mention that it was 'a million degrees outside.' It might have been a little cooler, but I couldn't tell the difference.

"The main problem most storytellers have, ironically, is talking too fast, rushing to the point. This illustrates the most important thing any storyteller should internalize and be aware of all the time. No matter what you are doing when you're talking to people - on the phone, at a party and especially on stage - you're telling a story with your voice, cadence and comfort level. If you're nervous, you're telling a story about being nervous. If you're bored, you're telling a story about being bored.

"The most useful thing I ever learned about storytelling for an audience came from my close friend and mentor, the performer Nina Wise. 'Your interest and delight,' she told me, 'will delight and interest your audience.'

"I try to keep this in my heart and mind during every show. If I love my stories, and can take myself there during the telling, the audience comes with me - and it's as if we're all traveling companions, embarking on these adventures together."