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At first I thought people were just being friendly. I thought maybe that’s how it was with everyone in the Alps.
Stopping to talk, to ask a few questions, to smile, and sometimes shake Halli’s hand. I heard “coozeena” a lot. Apparently a lot of people had to be told I was her cousin.
At one point a few hours into the hike, two young men with long legs and big strides caught up to us and were ready to just pass us and keep on going, when one of them stopped and elbowed his friend. The two of them whispered. Then the one who’d been elbowed said in hesitant English, “Excuse—Halli Markham?”
“Si,” Halli answered. “Buon giorno.” Then they carried on the rest of the conversation in Italian. While I smiled stupidly because I couldn’t understand. Although the words mia cogina did sound a lit
