The magic of the triple spit

I’ve been mentioning magic in a few write-ups so far, I think it comes up easily in any discussion and situation from my childhood in Eastern Europe. It’s so deeply ingrained in our behavior that it’s not even perceived as an unusual thing. A lot of our experiences were (and still are) determined by superstitions. So many were rooted into religious practices. Maybe it’s also that I grew up in a time when, because of the political and economical climate, superstitions were actually a fun pastime and a beam of hope. Or maybe they just made life more interesting… Blame the communists. 

One of my all time favorite superstitions was the night of St John, on January 5th. It was said that if unmarried girls placed a twig of holy basil under their pillow at night, they would dream of their future husband. I always felt like a little twig was not enough so, in time, I almost amassed an entire bouquet – maybe, maaaybe I would dream of that special man who would be my husband. In the morning, my mom would sneakily wait outside my room to ask “so, who did you dream of?!” … Mother-in-law trainee was ready to decide if she liked or hated my future non-existent husband. During a few years of putting basil under the pillow I had dreams of colleagues from highschool or even random strangers and events. It kinda felt like I was going to be married one day. As I grew up, I realized marriage is not a life purpose and luckily I quickly shifted mindset into a direction that prevented me from becoming the slave of defining my worth through my marital status. Romanians remain very traditional in this sense and feel like they have to get married by a certain age, as if their worth as humans is less significant if they don’t get attached with paperwork. Real attachment, where pragmatism and papers don’t count, is rare, even today. But it can also be determined by the very fear of “being alone” or “dying alone” in which case marriage is nothing but a contract for eldery care. Yeah you don’t die alone, if you are lucky to die first (!) and you might also die faster because you can’t wait to exit the toxic shit of a spouse situation you had to put up with for years. For some, dying was so much less shameful than divorce, especially during communism. Follow Romanians for more marriage tips. 

A lot of cunning people took advantage of people’s fears of being alone, unloved, and uncertain. Enter the gypsy women and their card reading and spell casting, as discussed in a previous blog post, who would swear to put spells and “bind” your loved one to you forever. Some of these rituals were downright disgusting and included bodily fluids, to put it mildly. 

But then, there were even more rituals and superstitions that would ensure you would meet the love of your life – and soon. Weddings -of course- were much awaited events for unmarried girls, all giddy to catch the bouquet, but there was more to that. It’s not just the bouquet our brides throw over their heads – there’s also pieces of sweetbread. The special “bride tart” is a sweetbread that the godmother breaks into 4 pieces over the bride’s head. The bride then proceeds to throw these pieces in the 4 directions over her head, while standing on a stool (I have absolutely no explanation for the stool). Catch one and you will be lucky in love, marry, and have prosperity. Or just eat it – at least, it’s guaranteed satisfaction, not like, ahem, a future husband… I caught a couple of pieces at my cousin’s wedding – I am still unmarried, but I do hold some extra wholesome weight. 

During the wedding, after catching the bouquet, the “lucky” girl is sat on a chair and a whole ritual takes place around her, where the bride’s veil is placed on her head, and some other nonsense dances are performed around her. Not so hard to bear, as this usually happens at a later time in the wedding, around 3-4 am, when you are guaranteed to be drunk anyway. I put up with one such ritual 20 years ago… And I am, shockingly, still unmarried. 

We didn’t have genies and lamps to grant us 3 wishes, but we had the random eyelash on the cheek. If your friend spotted a fallen eyelash on your cheek, they would ask you to make a wish and then guess which cheek it’s on. If you guessed, the wish would come true. 

Besides that, if you wanted to improve your chances of a wish coming true, you could also throw a penny in a well, or even a fountain (though this only caught on later), or you could find a lilac flower with 5 petals in a bloom cluster of hundreds of little flowers. 

If you wanted some quick luck, there were ways to find it. Chimney sweepers were my favorites – they would walk around, soiled clothes and all, carrying these hay brooms they used to sweep the coal chimneys with, and us girls would ambush them in the street to tear straws out of their brooms, in exchange for a few coins. We believed these would bring us luck. The chimney sweepers have long been seen as a symbol of good luck and fertility and not just in Eastern Europe. In Romania, their symbols are often imprinted into “martisor” which is a little trinket we give away on March 1st to celebrate spring. 

“Martisor” can be anything really, a little figurine, a jewel, a metal or wood carved piece with any symbol, or even a card or a bouquet of snowdrops- as long as it has its specific red and white thread, it will do. We gift these to each other on March 1st, in most regions men would offer them to women, but it’s universally seen as a symbol of good luck and health. 

Why did we need so much luck? Maybe because everything else was bad luck. Turning away, like when you forgot something, big no no. Breaking a mirror – bad luck for 7 years. Tuesdays? All bad luck. Tuesday the 13th? You are a champ if you leave your house. Whistling in the house? My mom would literally freak out and threaten to “make me shut up”. Taking the garbage out in the evening? See you in hell. 

But my god, nothing, absolutely nothing trumps the mighty evil eye. The evil eye is at the core of our nation. We ward babies from the evil eye by tying red strings around their wrists. We wear red for the same reason. If you suspect someone gave you the “evil eye” and you start feeling sick, there are complicated rituals you can do to improve your condition – they may or may not involve you drinking disgusting stuff. Then, lo and behold, the best defense against the evil eye – the triple spit. By all gods, having older ladies spit on you to ward off the evil eye is such a gross experience. They are not supposed to really spit, only imitate it, but most will end up showering you with saliva, because at their age they don’t really have control over what comes out of their mouths. Of course it’s not just old ladies – when someone sees a cute child or a good looking person, they will have to pretend-spit and then say the magic phrase to ward off the evil eye. We really believe that someone has the power to put a hex on us when they are envious. We believe that energy translates into us being suddenly stricken with sickness. We also believe we can unknowingly cast the evil eye when we admire someone, so we have to quickly follow up with the triple spit and the magic phrase: “ptui, ptui, ptui don’t be bewitched by the evil eye”. 

Three is always the magic number – you don’t do anything just once –  you spit three times, you make the cross sign three times, you knock on wood three times. Do it twice and suffer the consequences! 

I had to practice my triple “spit” in a play we did for the end of the 4th grade. A bunch of us got together to stage a short comedy story, and I got the role of the grandma of a spoiled little boy. Working with a real theater director, who was a colleague’s grandfather, he prompted me to exaggerate the evil eye spit on the grandson so that  the ridiculousness of the grannie came through in a comedic way. In the process, as he demonstrated repeatedly in order to make me come out of my shell, he spit on me so much and I valiantly stood  there under the assault of the old man’s droplets. I felt like I got enough protection to last me a lifetime of evil eye curses. The play was a success, but I might have gotten put off by acting forever.