I live with a typical, hard-working young Chilean couple in their thirties. They are unmarried and have two little girls, Mey and Lisue-Anne, aged 3 and 7 respectively. Coming into this experience, I never expected to have a host family of this sort (I imagined an older, well-traveled couple who happened to like gringos or a middle-aged family with children my age). In retrospect, I probably have the most unique living situation of all of my gringo friends in Chile, mostly because my family is just so typical. The mother, Ambar, works eight hours a day and attends night classes, so I hardly see her. The father, Carlos, works long hours as well and surfs on the weekend, so I see him at night. Then there is the nana who cooks, cleans, serves as a caretaker for the children and generally does everything the couple couldn´t possibly have time for.

We also have a kitten, Josi, who is loved and adored as much as a child (except by me because I am allergic to her).

The apartment is small but sufficient and located on a hill that overlooks all of Viña del Mar, with a breathtaking view of the ocean from the living room. The whole host experience is a little odd since we rarely eat together or see each other, but I typically eat almuerzo (lunch) and onces (evening tea with bread) with the daughters and nana, with family almuerzos reserved for the weekend.

Our apartment complex is a large, fairly new development with a huge range of occupants, from older couples to young families. Though neighbors rarely seem to be good friends, it is not uncommon to have visitors stop by once, twice, or five times a week to borrow a cup of sugar, half a stick of butter or two cups of milk for something.

Living here has made me realize there are quite a few luxuries I´ve taken forgranted in the states. First and foremost, there is no central heating here, so even though the winter isn´t far too different from Seattle weather, it is cold every minute of the day because there is no place to find refuge. Actually, it is often deceptively colder inside the house than outside. I sleep with seven heavy blankets and walk around the apartment wrapped in at least one, if not two.

To obtain hot water to shower or wash dishes there is this machine in the kitchen that I need to light a match while pressing some other button simultaneously, then slide a lever to the right and twist some knob to open the gas. After five weeks I still can´t do this, so every time I want to shower I have to ask someone else in the house to turn it on.

Since utilities are so expensive for families here, every time we wash our clothes we hang them on a line to dry even though they own a dryer (it is used to store plastic bags, don´t ask me why. My friend´s host family has a dishwasher that they use to store tupperware containers). This often means I have to plan ahead close to five or six days in advance. In the dead of the Chilean winter with rain spells and lots of humidity, it is virtually impossible for clothes to dry. If I do a load of laundry Monday my clothes probably won´t be fit to wear until Thursday or Friday.

For all of the money they must save freezing (I´ve resorted to drinking lots of tea and wearing five layers to stay warm), I will never understand why there is no recycling system here. Everything we buy is in glass or plastic bottles or other sorts of recyclable containers, and it seems so logical to have a nice heaping blue bin that a recycling man can come buy and pick up every week. Yet there is none, so I can´t help but feel this big wave of guilt every time I go throw away a perfectly recyclable container. I don´t think I will ever get used to it.