This is a story inspired by a particular type of travel scam, but because it´s one associated with a particular ethnic group, let me start with some background and context. The Romani people, known in Spain as Gitanos and Calé, are one of the country’s oldest and most distinctive minority communities. Although many people think of them simply as another kind of Europeans, most experts agree that the Romani originally came from northwestern India – probably in areas corresponding to today’s Rajasthan and Punjab, moving west roughly a thousand years ago (perhaps between the 9th and 11th centuries), gradually passing through Persia, the Byzantine world, and the Balkans before spreading across the rest of Europe. In Spain they show up in reliable records in the 15th century, with documented arrivals in the 1420s and 1430s. In other words, the Romani have been part of this country´s society for around 600 years.
And today it has one of Western Europe´s biggest Romani populations, usually estimated at somewhere between 700,000 and a million (because the government here doesn´t classify ethnicity rigidly in its census, no one can give an exact number, but that range is widely accepted). They live throughout the country, though their historic stronghold is Andalusia in the south, where Gitano culture became deeply woven into local life, with long-established communities in cities such as Córdoba, Granada, Jerez de la Frontera, Málaga, and Seville. There are also large populations in Barcelona, Madrid, Murcia, Valencia, and elsewhere; greater Madrid alone is often thought to have around 70,000 to 100,000 Romani residents.
The Gitano story in Spain is a mix of hardship and huge cultural influence. For centuries they were mistrusted by authorities, hit with restrictive laws, pushed to the margins, and often kept poor. At the same time, they became central to Spanish culture. For example, you simply cannot talk seriously about flamenco without talking about Gitano influence; their role in shaping flamenco’s singing style, emotion, rhythm, and mythology is enormous. Gitano artists have become important in larger Spanish pop culture, as well, such as the beloved diva Lola Flores (below, 1923-1995). Others have become influential in other areas, such as the late Seville football (soccer) star José Antonio Reyes and the Spanish and European parliamentarian Juan de Dios Ramírez-Heredia. Beyond that, Gitanos have influenced style, music, and indeed the whole atmosphere of southern Spain, and contributed slang expressions used across the country (for example, Spaniards do say “trabajo” for “work,” but more informally they also commonly call it “curro,” which comes from the Romani).
Economically the community is very mixed. Many Romani families still face real disadvantages in education, housing, and employment, and poverty rates are definitely above the Spanish average. Some people live in struggling neighborhoods or rely on irregular work. But plenty of others live perfectly ordinary working- or middle-class lives: running businesses; working in trades; driving taxis; holding office jobs; teaching; performing; or working in construction and retail. But as with many minority groups (I´m thinking of blacks and Latinos in the United States, for example), the people doing well often attract the least attention.
That helps explain the stereotype that “they’re all crooked, don’t work, and spend their days begging or scamming tourists.” In parts of Barcelona, Madrid, Seville, and other tourist areas, petty scams, passive and sometimes aggressive panhandling, pickpocketing, or distraction theft have sometimes involved small groups identified—fairly or unfairly—as Romani. Those encounters are visible, annoying, and memorable, so people generalize from a troublesome minority to an entire ethnic group.
José Balido
This brings me to the heart of my story. One particular scam that I´ve observed repeatedly is one where Romani women (they vary in age but often middle-aged or elderly) stand in high-traffic areas holding sprigs of rosemary (romero in Spanish; occasionally it might be a flower or some knickknack). The setup is simple and relies on surprise, politeness, and distraction. She´ll approach someone with a smile and offers a small sprig or flower or whatever. She may place it directly into the person’s hand, pin it onto clothing, or insist that it is a gift “for luck,” “for love,” or “for protection.” Sometimes she might offer to read the person’s palm or tell their fortune.
Once the mark accepts the rosemary – even passively – the interaction shifts. The “gift” suddenly becomes something owed. The scammer may demand money – often a modest amount at first – then escalate insistently. If the target hesitates, she may become louder, more emotional, or even physically persistent, creating an embarrassing scene in public. Many victims pay simply to end the encounter.
And in a few cases, the actual purpose might be distraction theft. While the tourist is focused on the rosemary, the hand-reading, or the awkward demand for payment, an accomplice may attempt to pickpocket a wallet, unzip a bag, or lift a phone. Crowded plazas and transport hubs make this easier.
The trick works mainly because many travelers do not want to seem rude. They assume refusing a harmless (often elderly) lady offering herbs is ungenerous, so they engage for a few seconds too long. Those few seconds are often the entire opportunity.
The simplest response is also the best one: do not take anything placed in your hand, do not stop for anything unsolicited, keep walking, and keep your valuables secure. And if you can´t avoid them altogether, a firm “No, gracias” without breaking stride usually ends the matter.
I myself fell prey to a variation on this scam several years ago in Seville when I was with my wife Cindy in the square outside the cathedral and its famous Giralda tower (shown in the video above). A Gitana approached me with "una ramita de romero" (a sprig of rosemary), then proceeded to read my palm, telling me I was brilliant, successful, special! Then she followed up by asking brilliant me to let her “bless” my money, and of course, since it made perfect sense, I brilliantly pulled out 150 euros and handed them over to her (who must still, so many years later, be in utter shock). The Gitana thereupon promptly pulled two feats: she blessed the cash and made it disappear into the folds of her skirt – then hied out of there before I could react. Oh, and there´s a cute little coda to this cute little tale. The next day we came across them, walking towards us, and she said "una ramita de romero?" I indignantly replied "No! Because you robbed me yesterday!" She took a closer look at me, then said, "Oh, well, it´s true," and hied off again. Can´t make this stuff up, right?
Still, I repeat, it´s important to keep in mind that scammers like this are vastly outnumbered by the much. much larger number of Romani who are ordinary, law-abiding citizens trying to earn a living, raise children, and get on with life. In fact, Spain is considered one of the better examples in Europe when it comes to Romani integration, even if plenty of inequality and prejudice still remain (by contrast, some of the worst situations for the Romani remain in Eastern Europe).
Bottom line: Unfortunately, street scams are an annoying fact of life. But as with so much else when it comes to personal safety and security while traveling, forewarned is forearmed!
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