There’s no place like home. Nothing can compare to finally opening my front door, taking off my shoes and knowing I can just relax now that I’m home.  Home is where I am most comfortable; I can wear whatever I want (an XXL Patriots sweat shirt and Nike Shorts preferably), eat whatever is in the fridge, and do whatever I want.   I’ll admit it, I love my alone time.  I need time to myself to just decompress and relax without having to talk to anyone.

Who cares if have Chinese left overs for breakfast and spend a day watching Netflix? That’s the most beautiful thing about being home – no one cares.

When I was in Argentina I made the bold decision to live with a host family.  It was a daunting thought not knowing what I would be arriving to once in Buenos Aires since I had relatively no information about my host family.  Until a week before my departure I had no idea who my host family even was or even in what neighborhood I would be in.

Things change when you’re living in someone else’s home.  Instead of going home to Sutton to find my golden retriever running in my yard or walking into my Townhouse in Amherst and dropping my backpack at the door, I was greeted with awkward hellos from the doorman or unlocking the front door of the apartment building.  Then I would manually open the elevators doors and press 7, once on my floor I would have to unlock another door while Doki, my host family’s German Sheppard, barked until the door opened.  This was extremely annoying when trying to quickly go to my room after a night at the boliches.

It’s weird basically renting out a room in a small apartment with a family that you’re not a part of.  Although the apartment had a living room, two bathrooms, three bedrooms and an outdoor hallway to a tiny space for a washing machine, I mainly stayed in what would have been the maid’s quarters.  My room had a window that overlooked the hallway to the laundry area, a closet, about a foot of walking space and an attached bathroom where if I really wanted to I could poop, shower, and brush my teeth at the same time.  My bed was smaller than a twin size and it was like sleeping on cardboard.

I was no longer able to eat whatever I wanted, and my host mom had horrendous cooking skills.  I’m not exaggerating, one day I thought she was making dog food but was dinner… Before experiencing her cooking I didn’t know it was possible to ruin mashed potatoes but she proved me wrong.  Who in God’s name thought it would be a good idea to add chunks of hard boiled eggs and tuna to mashed potatoes!?!?!

But since breakfast and dinner were included in my program fees I felt obligated to eat those meals at home and meal time truly was when I got to practice my Spanish the most.   Unfortunately Argentines aren’t breakfast people so most mornings I ate alone, and it wasn’t long before I got sick the overly sweet milky yogurt and the Argentine version of frosted flakes.  Most mornings I would either make myself oatmeal in a mug or meet my friends for some scrambled eggs and coffee before going to class.

Dinner in Argentina is typically later than in the United States, but my host mom insisted on having dinner between 10-11:30 pm – which is absurd.  I have to say, I impressed myself with my ability to withstand the awful food that was on my plate.  The worst part of it might have been that my host mom insisted on serving everyone and piled my plate high even though I always said I only wanted a little bit and even when I asked her to stop and said it was enough.  She would just keep putting more on my plate. Fortunately I did what my mom feared most – I fell in love.  Thankfully by my last few months in Argentina, I ate with him most nights either going to amazing restaurants that I never would have found by myself or enjoying delicious asados.

All that being said, choosing to live with a host family was the best decision I could have made.  It was so reassuring knowing I had people that cared about me and were there if I needed anything.  Having my host mom hug and kiss me every time she saw me was annoying at first but how affectionate and warm she was became something I looked forward to.  Her horrible cooking made me hunt for the best lunch spots and I didn’t gain any weight since I never wanted seconds.

There were times when all I wanted to do after a long day was take a long shower and go to bed but felt too rude not to take the time to talk to my host family.  There were (many) times I missed feeling comfortable when home. I may not have been able to walk around in my underwear eating ice cream out of the pint or spend a day on the couch watching Netflix but I experienced a completely different way of life and it was incredible.

I realized that people are kind and good, everywhere you go.  My host sisters are some of the coolest and kindest people I’ve ever met.  It was so fun to have sisters and people to gossip with in Spanish.  They were the ones who introduced me to my boyfriend and helped me pick out outfits for dates.

Although I wasn’t a part of the family, they included me for everything.  I may not have been Doki’s biggest fan but having a dog with me while running in the evenings was comforting.  And I don’t even know where to begin the explain everything I learned and gained from having the experience of living with a host family.

Probably my biggest take away was that there are so many things that I had valued that don’t matter.  Seeing how two sisters had to share a room with twin beds for their entire lives made me truly appreciate and understand how fortunate I am.  Too many material possessions are valued too highly in the United States.

I realized that I much rather save my money and go on more adventures than have the latest IPhone.  I also realized how wasteful our society is.  It was amazing how energy efficient and conscious people are in South America.

I became easier going, and was able to let things go.  Before going I was much more of a control freak, but having to be on someone else’s schedule, like having dinner past 10 pm, made me accept that it’s ok if things don’t go my way.  With that being said, I was never given any sort of curfew and was allowed to come and go as I pleased but always made sure to inform my host mom where I was going.

The experience of living with a host family was priceless as I got to experience the Argentine culture first hand.  I got to be a porteña for a few months and wish I could do it again.