Last Sunday was La Domenica delle Palme, or Palm Easter. Six years ago, my good friend Lucas and I were strolling through Rome on that particular Sunday. Unaware of the day it was, we passed a random church where someone handed us some olive branches. While Lucas looked a little puzzled at the branches he was now holding, I immediately understood. Of course, it was Palm Sunday! Immediately, my memories started wandering back to my childhood. To my grandmother who – due to a lack of olive trees in the Netherlands – used to put blessed boxwood branches behind the crucifix above her kitchen door. Fresh little twigs for another blessed and protected year.
When I find myself in a plane once again, you can bet I’ll be sitting in seat 22A
Since then, provided that I am in Rome at this time, it has become a little tradition of mine to walk into a church on this particular Sunday and take some olive branches with me. I just love these kinds of symbols and rituals. That’s how I also always walk into a church to light a candle, I take off my necklaces and rings when it’s full moon to energetically charge them in the moonlight, I used to have special underwear for good fortune that I wore during my driving test and my final math exam – for which, in addition to a great dose of luck, a true miracle was needed too – and I know I’m on the right track in life when ladybirds keep appearing on my path. And when I find myself in a plane once again, you can bet I’ll be sitting in seat 22A, my very own lucky combination.
How appropriate that today, on my hunt for olive branches, I found these beautiful olive trees
Like these rituals, there are the olive branches on the Sunday before Easter, La Domenica delle Palme, which was a very sunny day this year. To get them, I set off towards the little square with the church where I had seen plenty of baskets filled with olive branches last year. To my surprise, however, the church was now closed and the square deserted. I decided to continue walking, and by coincidence I soon arrived at another little square. Unfortunately, there was no beautiful baroque church here, but there was a little market with about ten stalls. A stall with antiques, a little truck with local specialties from Puglia, a lady selling vintage sunglasses and some others. There was one stall in particular that immediately caught my attention. Or rather, the young couple behind it. They sold plants, and were so full of love and passion about them that I was automatically drawn to them. The plants were beautiful, and the olive trees in particular. How appropriate that today, on my hunt for olive branches, I found these beautiful olive trees. It was meant to be, wasn’t it?!
When he told me that cacti only need a little water once a month, I was convinced
In all honesty, I told Umberto, the plant seller, that I had never really had a plant before. He smiled for a moment, and – immediately worried about his beloved olive trees, for which he was looking for a good forever home – he cautiously said that an olive tree might not be the best choice to start with then. When I also mentioned that at times, I’m away for weeks at a time, he quickly diverted my attention to the many cacti. I had to admit that they were beautiful too, but on this Palm Sunday, it was the olive branches that were supposed to bring good luck, right? But when he told me that cacti only need a little water once a month, I was convinced. I couldn’t possibly forget that. And, so he added, they would bring me good fortune if I decided here and now that they would.
He assured me that I could call them at any time of the day if I were to have any questions about my cacti
Because in the end, it’s all about the meaning you attach to it yourself. About what you choose to believe in, just like I did when I was eighteen with my good fortune underwear. While carefully packing the cacti for me, Umberto gave me a card with his phone number and that of his wife Giulia. He assured me that I could call them at any time of the day if I were to have any questions about my cacti. So here they are now, at my place. In the bathroom to be precise. My two little lucky charms for a blessed and protected year full of fortune, with a direct helpline to Umberto should things go wrong. And those olive branches? Well, I couldn’t resist and texted my 75-year-old landlady, who goes to church every day, to see if she had any spare ones. She’ll bring them by the house this week. You know, just in case.
Another wonderful blog. I too associate certain things to good luck and a desired result. Your blogs are Special. ❤❤❤