Slovakian Gypsies

Sitting on top of a hill, the village was isolated and populated by dark skinned people who lived among themselves.

The children were happy go lucky innocent, smiling and clamoring for attention. They do not know anything else and I guess that makes children playful and nonchalant. Wherever I turned the eyes were bright with sparkles.

The steps leading up to the front door of some of the “homes” were so unstable. As unstable as the overall construction. I wondered how they fared in a rainstorm and just how wet they got? There were barefoot and curious children at some of the front doors. This big guy talked to me in his native language that I did not understand. But I did understand when he put his hand out with his palms up and wide open. His face was in writhing pain. It showed in every step he took. I could not figure out what his affliction was.

After being invited inside his home I saw the family room was a place to gather not only to eat but also to watch TV and sleep. No running water but two TV’s.
Right across the dirt road was a baby sitting on a makeshift couch eating his lunch in the sun.

And as I walked from door to door a woman greeted me with obvious body language that said I was not welcome to enter her domain. So I did not even ask. Another woman chased me down to show me her child. She wanted me to photograph her with her baby.

My guide was surrounded by the kids who swarmed us for chocolate. Some had their shoes on backwards.

As I left the village and walked back down the hill to join the guides I was followed while escorted back to the realm of normalcy. At least what I think is normal. During my descent the children were busy picking the pocket of my guide who let his guard down for just a second. He should have known better. One second was all that was needed to get a wallet. He eventually got it back empty of the cash!