February 16, 2003

• More Spain different day or

  
  

  all I really wanted was some real Spanish lace:

  
  

  My sister Lona and I went to  Segovia on a bus and spent the whole day wondering around town, it was there I  had my first run-in with a gypsy.  There seems to be something about me that brings out the worst in the gypsy persona.  Either that or they can spot an easy mark.  We were down in the heart of the old city, by the largest part of the Roman aquaduct, when I was set upon by an old gypsy lady.  She had lace mantillas and I made the mistake of making direct eye contact with her.  She followed us for two blocks with me saying in my sternest voice no,no,no.  She obviously didn’t understand Spanish.  For the low price of ten dollars I got a machine made mantilla and some peace.   I thought I had won the war in one easy cheap battle.  Was I ever mistaken.  Round one to the gypsy who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  
  

  Gypsies have a better communication system than Altel and Microsoft put together. About a week later i’m home when a gypsy bangs on the back gate, I made a critical error here, I went outside to see what she wanted.    She has two baskets, now these are nice machine made baskets,  though she is saying she made them, I know she’s lying, my sister is a basketmaker.  So i’m telling her I don’t need or want the baskets and she’s telling me her kids are going to starve to death because I won’t buy them.  I tell her I don’t have any money, she starts getting louder and tells me she will have to be a whore to keep her kids from starving.  Finally she throws the baskets over the fence and starts walking down the alley yelling at the top of her lungs that I killed her kids and she is going to die a whore.  What could I do I ran after her, shoved thirty dollars into hands and asked her to please go away.  QUIETLY!  Round two solid gypsy win

  
  

  Madrid rostro–one of my favorite places, basically it’s a huge flea market with anything and everything you don’t need conveniently placed in one ten block area. (sidenote-put your wallet in your front pocket and wear your tightest jeans)  my husband and I weren’t looking for anything in particular but we did want some Spanish flavor to send home to family and to take back with us.  Enter the roving gypsy.  By this time I know I am the worlds biggest shmuck so I send in front line weaponry…my old man.  He can make babies cry just by frowning at them, I may have lost round one and two but hey I’ve got the big guns now.  He even makes telemarketers hang-up on him…that’s true power.  I see him go into his program of deliberate procrastination, look at everything ten times like you just can’t make up your mind, mull and ponder, get wishy washy until in disgust they give up and leave.  I’ve seen it a hundred times and it has never failed.  Patience as a tool of war.  He’s ten minutes into his play when she pulls out from the bottom of her basket the most beautiful table cloth I’ve ever seen.  30 seconds later the shmuck moves in and walks away with the machine made, machine appliqued, machine lace table cloth thats only been out of the bag once in the ten years we’ve been back stateside.  round three gypsies….war over!  Oh did I mention she threw in some matching napkins, what a wheeler dealer I am.

  
  

  

  
  

  Look at me all tough leaning against a tree…who knew three old ladies could bring me to my knees.

  • 5:24 pm
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