I have returned to Sudtirol for the fourth time. This year, though, my base has shifted. It is no longer Eppan, home of the Eau & Gaz residency—the original reason behind my presence in the region. Now, by virtue of love and marriage, I consider myself to be a resident of Tramin. We even received the certificate from the town hall acknowledging our union. My existence is on the record here. In this town of 3,000 people, my presence is being witnessed for the second time. It is all too clear, though, that I am much happier to greet most of the town's inhabitants than they are to see me. Their mannerisms belie a distance that feels very in keeping with my experience with cold weather people. It doesn't at all deter me from over-exuding my coastal Goan warmth. They say 'Hoi' and me, I want to go hug them. I can tell they are puzzled as to why I could possibly be so happy to see them. It confuses me, too.

Each day I wish I had language on my side. I wish my interactions could seem a little less foreign; that I could access people more easily, that I could somehow erase the linguistic barriers that prevent them from knowing me. Sometimes I wish it from a practical point of view—I'd love to, for instance, be able to have a lengthy conversation with the local butcher (I love that there's only one that services the whole town) so he can supply me with the right cuts.