In one of the most beautiful cities in Spain, while walking around El Alcazar and admiring thick walls built five hundred years ago, a woman came up to me and offered me a twig. I had no idea why she was giving me a weed.

She said it was the new year and she was wishing me the best year of my life. I thanked her with a smile, put the twig in my pocket and started to walk. She followed me trying to grab my hand to read my palm.

By then I was wise with the ways of the gypsy women so I hung on tight to my little purse tucked into my breasts and said "No, thank you." She didn't listen, she continued to follow me as I quickened my pace. She wanted me to give her a coin for the twig, it was a special branch from a sacred tree that would bring all my desires and dreams to reality.

However, I wasn't about to open my purse to look for a coin. My next "thank you" was a firm one as I started to walk faster.

I walked over 300 miles in 2007 at 8 different events of the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. If there's one thing I know how to do is walk, and at any pace I want. This time I knew I would leave the insistent gypsy way behind me, not to ever bother me again.

The next day I wanted to visit the most famous church in Sevilla. La Macarena. Yup! the one of the song. Except in Spain La Macarena is not a song, but the Mother of God herself. The Macarena church is located near the Muralla or ancient wall built to protect the city in the 11th Century. Just as I was about to enter the church, a woman handed me another twig and grabbed my hand to yet again read my palm.

I was only interested in donating my coins to the Macarena, thanking her for letting me into her sanctuary, not to some gypsy woman who believes she knows my future. However, when I turned to look at her, I saw the same woman who had accosted me the day before. We immediately recognized each other. I smiled and went on my way muttering something about having enough twigs in my pockets already. When she saw me walking away from her quickly, so she wouldn't have a chance to catch me she yelled something in Spanish that made my blood curdel. I don't quite remember it now, but it had something to do with my health and how I would suffer for the rest of my life, unless of course, I would be willing to give her a donation, in which case she would reverse the curse.

I laughed and went into the church. I knew I would be safe there from any bad vibes of the gypsy woman. The sacred virgin would protect me. She had been doing that for over two centuries.

My trip ended in early January. However, as soon as I touched my homeland I got a horrible cough. The very next day when I awoke I had fever, sore throat and felt like I'd been hit by a truck. What luck!

Unfortunately 3 weeks later I was still reeling from my illness and to add insult to injury I got food poisoning too. The curse of the gypsy had come true. Can it be possible that gypsy woman could actually make me sick?

I'm fine now thank God (or the Macarena, whomever wants to take credit) but I think I should have emptied my pockets of the weeds of the gypsy woman whom I met twice in the streets of Sevilla.

I spent a total of 34 days in Spain, visited 10 cities, had my credit cards stolen, partied like it was 1994 and got the curse of the gypsy.

A la prochaine!

Renae Lindsay
Adventure Travel Writer