Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Gypsies and Pick-Pocketers


I don’t just get interested in things, I get obsessed with things.  I have been obsessed with having a reindeer farm, harem pants, eating vegan (not eating vegans, that’s gross), blogging, and Iceland just to name a very few.  On our road trip my in-laws mentioned the Italian Gypsies, so I looked into them.  The Roma Gypsies are descendants from Romania who (for the most part) live in big dirty settlement camps.  My mother-in-law told me a story about a woman they know who went to Italy and the gypsies gassed their room and stole their valuables.  Then I became obsessed.  I read about them every time I got Wi-Fi.  I read a story about a baby-nabbing teenager, and how some gypsies are pick-pocketing pros.   I was on a mission to find the “bad” gypsies (since even in the ginger community not everyone is a bad guy...well in theory at least).  I left a Euro sticking out of my back pocket and when someone would get close...I would spin around to face my pick-pocketer!  I didn’t find any pick-pocketers this way, but I did hit several people with my backpack, including Brian who wasn’t even a little bit impressed with my detective skills. 

Plan B.  The Baby Decoy.  I put the backpack in the stroller and carefully covered it with a blanket and walked around the corner before the rest of the family.  I would leave the stroller and walk away about 10 feet to look at something.  No one noticed that I had left a stroller all by its little lonesome except Brian who would walk up holding the baby and grab the stroller and yell at me, “Damn it Chelsea, why do you leave stuff just laying around everywhere?”  Seven years of marriage and he still asks me that question weekly.  Despite my best efforts to get someone to steal my baby, no takers. 

Plan C.  The Stakeout.  Brian and I were sitting at a table drinking an espresso, because only tourists drink cappuccinos after 11...obviously, or so I learned after three days of drinking cappuccinos all afternoon.  I left five euro out on the edge of the table as bait.  If you know me well, you know that I was desperate because I like spending money like Brian likes cleaning up after me “all the time”.  Kaydance dropped her bottle so I bent over to pick it up.  When I came back up, the money was gone!  Damn gypsies, I didn’t even see anybody walk by the table.  They’re good. 

Update:  Upon doing laundry when we get home I learned that my little gypsy Shylee waited until no one was looking and took the money and stuffed it in her pocket. 

Update numero two:  I did find a pick-pocketer after all.  Maybe I should stop leaving my stuff lying around. 
 

Update numero three:  I am still obsessed with gypsies, and owning my own reindeer farm.
Image from www.fineartamerica.com
 
I googled "reindeer farmer" and was excited to see another ginger on a reindeer farmer.  Then thought, Oh god, what is she doing to that poor reindeer baby?  I promise not to do this to a reindeer or a gypsy.