The Not So Evil Eye

For much of my life I’ve been a wanderer, traveling to places remote and different from what I know. I get the good kind of shivers when I encounter something foreign and exotic. Something that challenges the way I think or maybe just my taste buds.

Most recently, a trip to the Middle East found me roaming in and around ancient marble and sandstone cities, modern utopias built on oil money, trams and alleyways, wadis and seas. I dined on homemade hummus and spiced lamb, and sipped champagne and pomegranate juice. I saw groomed poodles and feral mutts, cats and camels, blue skies and desert dust.

But the most memorable encounters were with human kind. Whether in skullcaps or hijab, speedos or bikinis—beneath clothing there was flesh and bones and beyond that pumping hearts and computing brains.

I witnessed the best of humanity watching a woman outside an upscale restaurant feed leftover fish to a scrawny cat. I saw the worst: a man, sunned lobster-red and laden with gold chains, berate a server for filling his highball glass with more than two ice cubes. “I’m not an American,” he bellowed. But what buoyed my spirits were the universally shared smiles, handshakes, hugs, and claps on the back. Across culture, across socio-economics, these are the simple bonds that hold humanity together.

Riding in an air-conditioned bus, I watched this play out through the window. Man and wife strolled hand-in-hand, teen boys jostled one another over a soccer ball, children waved with tiny hands like five-pointed stars. A chatty bus driver put me in a better mood with his toothy, toothless smile. And then there was the shopkeeper in a picturesque village—my last stop in Turkey. I had a few remaining lira burning a hole in my pocket and was scouring her shop for tiny gifts to carry home. I brought my choices to the counter and handed over my lira. When she attempted to give me change, I politely said, “Keep it,” and thanked her.

Her brow furrowed, “No, no.” She motioned for me to follow her. We wove through her shop as she cherry-picked a bookmark, a few greeting cards, and three evil eye safety pins. She added them to my bag, satisfied with an equitable exchange.

So now, I must explain the evil-eye, a symbol that appeared throughout my journey from Turkey to the UAE. The legend is that the blue, evil eye protects the owner from negative energies. This derives from Greek lore and the captivating, blue eyes Medusa had until she was turned into a hideous creature with snakes for hair and eyes that when gazed upon turned the on-looker to stone. Medusa’s eyes had the power to stop her enemies. To this day, the belief is that the blue eye will protect the bearer from harm’s way.

And so, I had three safety pins with Medusa’s blue eyes. Perhaps I could pin them inside my purse so it wouldn’t be snatched or attach them to the rearview mirror of my car. They might be unique stocking stuffers at Christmas.

Back in my ship’s cabin, shopping complete, I had only a few minutes to dress for the evening. It was formal night—black tie and the whole shebang. I had had my only evening gown, a vintage Ralph Lauren, dry cleaned for the occasion. I shimmied into the creamy velvet—looking good, until I turned to see my back-side in the mirror. Three tiny splits in the seam exposed my winter-white skin. My dress was falling apart, and I didn’t have anything else to wear.

Like a fairy godmother, the shopkeeper popped into my mind, her eagerness to make a fair deal—the three…yes… three evil eye safety pins would do the trick. A pin here and there, and I was ready for a night out on the ship!

Coincidence? Maybe. Serendipity? Maybe. Luck? I think not, because when fairness and goodwill reign, anywhere in this world, with anyone…

…magic can happen.