A Beginner’s Guide to South Tyrol

How to greet just about anyone in these parts

It was during my early years here in Südtirol that I began lifting my index finger off the steering wheel. I was only mirroring the drivers approaching from the other direction. Sometimes it was a hello, other times a thank you for giving the right of way. But the finger went up almost every time and mine quickly followed in reciprocal salutation — eventually becoming an automatic reflex as I drove past another villager. Having moved here for six months of thesis research in 2016, I expected my time among these alluring mountains and their residents to have a six-month shelf life. But I loved that sense of belongingness every time I exchanged an index finger with a stranger.

Seven years later and now living in a village further north, I’ve grown a deep appreciation — I’d even dare call it an affection — for the anticipated greeting from passers-by. I discovered its persistence on village sidewalks, on the many thousands of kilometres of trails, and even when arriving at the local bar or grocery store; that familiar greeting of Hoila! or Griaß di! Now my fellow villagers and I are on a first-name basis, so the bar is set even higher.

A tight-knit fabric of community stretches across this modestly sized region, slightly smaller than the island of Corsica. And the greeting I was taught years ago by fellow villagers I never actually knew? It was my naïve glimpse into small village life that was soon to be my own; something the me of ten years ago would have never imagined her future to be (think: American-born city girl comfortably settled into a seaside Tel Aviv life, swirling through traffic on her trusty single-speed bicycle).

Moving to Südtirol wasn’t easy, even with the experience of having lived in five other countries. But it is here that I settled, making wine, writing, and embracing the mountains for all they have to offer. A veritable island in the middle of the Alps, I had landed in a place where the distance between my cultural upbringing and theirs feels at times to be worlds if not generations apart. And so many things to learn: driving my car with speed and confidence on narrow mountain roads. What time of day to drink white versus red wine. (White: any time. Red: only in the PM!) How to cut Knödel, the South Tyrolean sweetheart in the form of a dumpling, so as not to offend. (Always with your fork or spoon, never with a knife!) But what has taken me years to grasp — and I see no end in sight to speak of — was learning all the ways to greet like a local. It’s more than just a complex art: it’s a gateway into the community, and you, dear reader, are lucky enough to get an introductory crash course.

There are two basic ways to physically greet a friend, family member or acquaintance here. One is kissing on the cheek: all too familiar for Europeans, but as an American-Israeli, I had to step away from my go-to greeting of a nice big hug and dive right in to touching someone’s cheek with my own: not one, not two, but a generous three South Tyrolean times. And it’s not always a swan dive that takes place — elegant and well-choreographed — but rather the occasional resemblance of an albatross landing: fumbled, ungraceful, and seemingly without aim. The uncertainty of which cheek to go for first has been the culprit of many quasi-smooches on the lips throughout history. That complication never arises with the likes of a trusty hug. Just saying.

The other is the handshake. Not a new acquaintance or business meeting handshake. Think holiday greetings or family dinners. Merry Christmas? Handshake. Happy birthday? Handshake. Just got married? Handshake. You get the idea — and it applies equally to men and women. Sometimes there’s even kisses thrown in just to keep you on your toes. It was for me an overwhelming formality that really took me years to get the hang of, because once again, I’m a hugger. But after seven years of practice, I can finally say that I now confidently initiate handshakes where the occasion demands, and for those locals who I’ve become close with, they’ve come to expect (and I think even enjoy) a nice big hug.

Then there’s the whole concept of greeting fellow hikers in the mountains. Now I don’t know how much German you know, but there is (as in many languages here in Europe) both a formal and informal way of addressing people: strangers, professors, doctors and the like — they all get the formal Sie, while acquaintances, family, and anyone that’s given you the verbal green light can be addressed with the informal du You can now take this new knowledge and toss it off the closest precipice when you’re hiking through the South Tyrolean mountains. Greeting oncoming foot traffic with an informal Griaß di!, no formality necessary, is completely acceptable when on a trail here.

There’s a lot of trial and error in learning how to greet your fellow residents here in Südtirol. I have encountered many a strange glance over the years, and found myself on the receiving end of affectionate laughter at my (courageously) failed attempts of mastering a rule book that does not actually exist. Time is the only salvation here, as well as making sure you make regular visits to the local markets, ski lodges and village bars to get in some good-quality practice. And what about the proper way to say goodbye? That’s a whole other story. Ciao. Pfiat enk!