Linda Hall – A Matter Of Luck

EVEN after living here for more than half a century, I’m still not sure whether the Spanish are particularly superstitious.

They don’t like it when the thirteenth falls on a Tuesday, when they say you should neither marry nor set sail, not only because there were 13 at the Last Supper but because Martes is the day dedicated to Mars, the god of war.

Common sense means I’ve never seen anyone walk under a ladder here, but I’ve never noticed anybody predicting seven years of doom on breaking a mirror or reacting with panic on spilling salt.

Once upon a time my now-atheist husband would make a quick sign-of-the-cross before starting a demanding task or any other hazardous undertaking. He would also intone, “Lagarto, largarto” (Lizard, lizard) to ward off bad luck.

Not that you hear “Lagarto, largarto” now, except amongst those of a certain age, and as far as I know, no young person currently believes that brushing accidentally against a hunchback – can that word even be used anymore? – promises financial good fortune.

Actually touching the err… hump… more than half a century ago meant that a lottery win was almost in the bag.

Far less offensive was the custom of saying “Alegría, alegría” (Joy, joy) when wine was slopped from an unsteady glass or a shaky bottle.

When this happened, whoever was responsible would dab a little of the spilt drink on the foreheads of those present, while intoning “Alegría, alegría.”  If a pregnant woman were present, the growing bump would be anointed in this way, too.

Some people believe this practice started out as making the sign-of-the-cross. Others tell you that the practice goes back still further and echoed the still older habit of making a libation to the gods.

It’s reassuring that a person with an abnormal curvature of the spine is now spared the indignity of being regarded guaranteeing cash, but I can’t help feeling sad that I haven’t heard “Alegría, alegría” in decades.