I kind of dig Gypsies. Think I probably always have in some respect or other. It’s probably because I tend to be a restless person at heart myself, or maybe just because the self-imposed isolation of their communities has made them a mysterious curiosity for the better part of 2,000 years, I don’t know. But whether working with or encountering them in Eastern Europe, or even here in India (by the way, did you know that all Gypsy culture originates with the Dravidian tribes of Tamilnadu? Yup… if you’re here, you’re in Gypsy Eden, baby!), their colorful and gregarious natures, their existing folklores and superstitions, their tightly knit communities and their cobbled together mélanges of cultures coupled with their makeshift and portable domiciles have always made me smile when I see them… and perhaps secretly wish I could be among them. So I was kind of geeked when I found out that, as we did in December, we’d be constructing a makeshift “tent city” for our team to stay in while working in Kalavai. And believe it or not, we’re just as much of a curiosity as a tent-city full of gypsies. People drive by and honk, or even just walk from surrounding villages to check out these crazy Americans living in portable nylon houses, working during the day with the villagers and then dancing around bon-fires at night. No one has asked me yet to tell their fortune, of course, but I still fancy when I close my eyes and pretend that for a piece of silver, I probably could.