I Want to Be a Gypsy

I have always been fascinated with the concept of gypsies. Examination of my Ancestry DNA results did not indicate any gypsy blood. I was pretty bummed about this. I wanted to account for my itchy feet, my love of wandering, my total joy at seeing something new with an easy explanation of “it’s in my blood.”

My current favorite song is “No Roots” by Alice Merton.

My favorite past time is taking a road trip…preferably somewhat unscheduled. Note: friends and relatives like to know when you might arrive. This is a hard concept for me.

I love to set up camp, to put my collapsible chair in a spot with a breeze, or a view of a cliff, a river, a sleeping elk.

It brings me joy to wake up in a new place every day and hike the neighborhood of trees, trails, plants, blooming cactus, nibbling rabbits, sunning lizards, soaring hawks, and busy magpies.

Gypsies (from the word Egyptian, so I guess I’m not related to Nefertiti after all) had their own spoken language but no written language. This is the “reason” their history is a bit obscure. But I like the occupations attributed to gypsies: musician, singer, acrobat, juggler, bear keeper, fortune teller. All attractive to me.

I have never tried to tell anyone’s fortune, but I do seem to have an innate talent for finding lost items. Bears avoid me. I made a juggler costume, as you can see in the photo, however, I failed to catch the balls. Cartwheels are my sisters’ (both of them) skill, I never mastered anything beyond a somersault.

I have no talent for singing.

I guess I’ll have to wander and be a nomad strictly because my father liked to take Sunday drives on the backroads. And sometimes we didn’t make it home until Monday or Tuesday.