Romanis

I remembered learning the following from
generally authoritative National Geographic:

1.) Gypsies actually descended from tribes in Northern India, although they've lived in Eastern Europe centuries. Therefore, they shouldn't be called gypsies, because they didn't come from Egypt as was commonly assumed way back when.

2.) These 'Romani' or 'Traveller' tribes aren't particularly fond of outsiders. Making inroads is tough because they are a closed culture.

When I was in Kusadasi, Turkey, I found out about a community of Romanian gypsies living on a nearby hillside. These people are not well-liked in Kusadasi. The locals couldn't understand why on earth I wanted to get acquainted with them. They don't speak Turkish, Kurdish or Arabic and they live in squalor - so I was told. That's just the beginning. Two taxi drivers refused to take me anywhere near there. Through persistence, I found a taker. He insisted that he could only drive somewhat close to where they reside. That was good enough for me.

Let me just tell you: the National Geographic is dead wrong.

I instantly made friends in the community. . . .

in spite of the fact that all my attempts at communication were conducted in charades.

Teenagers pulled out a table and chairs from their house and onto the street.

Younger children guided me to a chair.

An older woman set out drinks of . . . something.


I sipped my beverage cautiously. Maybe if I drank just a few sips, I wouldn't get sick?

Then, there was a woman in a floral scarf indicating that she wanted to feed me.

Off she went to prepare the food.

I followed behind her, because I was eager to be a part of the process . . .

and to see if the creation would be something I could feel comfortable about ingesting.

A herd of curious little people and a few big ones followed me to her kitchen.

It was a sort of indoor-outdoor arrangement, with bars in the window - half broken.

One boy continuously chatted with me in Romanian.

Of course I didn't understand a word, but I tried to demonstrate appreciation for his efforts.

I wondered about the chopped greens, pointing to them.

I was taken to a neighboring field and shown the dandelion greens and other spring growth.

I'm assuming - from our little field trip - that the chopped greens were foraged right there from the field.

Then she sprinkled some white clotted cheese on top of the greens and folded the flour shell like a quesadilla.

I assumed it was homemade goat cheese since that's very popular with Eastern Europeans.

Finally the creation was cooked on a flat griddle - somewhat like a Mongolian iron griddle.

Very efficient, really.

Can you see in her face (above shot) a certain personal pride in her home cooking

. . . and the joy of gifting?

This woman sat and watched me eat every bite.

It was delish,

AND, my stomach didn't have any qualms over the Romani fare.

Once again, I was reminded of the goodness that's everywhere in the world.