Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family:
Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.

My Peruvian family has been one of the best parts of this trip so far. They're warm, loving, welcoming, and loads of fun. I figured some character sketches would probably make it easier to explain my life here a bit better.

The father, Gilbert, is 40 and a civil engineer who works for the city. He has a bristly goatee and gives everybody a big kiss when he comes home. He seems to be the more lenient parent, so the kids usually go to him when they want something. I like that he puts others before himself, serving himself last at the table and taking the smallest chair. He thinks that watching too much television is selling your imagination to advertisers.

The mother, Cecilia, is 38 and works a few different jobs. She has a degree in molecular biology from the university here, but, as she put it, job openings are sorely lacking in the biology field in Cusco. She's the disciplinarian parent, but she never seems to be in a bad mood. She has the shiniest, most beautiful hair I've ever seen. We sit in the kitchen and drink tea together while watching novelas.

Mariana is 10 years old and my little shadow in some ways. This is good, because she helps me out whenever my Spanish vocabulary is lacking. She's my best conversation partner because she speaks very clearly but also still somewhat slowly, and whenever I make mistakes, she corrects me but always does it gently. She likes to dance and sing, but is otherwise a pretty mellow person. Her entire bedroom is pink.

Marcelo is 8 years old, and he's a total handful. His parents enrolled him in karate during this summer vacation, hoping to get some of the energy out of him, but now he just likes to practice his karate in the living room. He's a sweet little boy though, fond of telling stories and giving big hugs. He has a mild speech impediment where he subsitutes "l" for "r," so I have to listen very carefully when he's talking or I get confused.

Leao is also 8, and although he's not one of their biological children, he's very much a part of the family. He and Marcelo were pen pals in school a couple years ago, and Marcelo's class went to visit Leao's class for a little while last July. The two hit it off so well that Leao came to visit and stay with the family for the duration of the summer vacation this year. He sleeps in the other guest bedroom downstairs. Leao doesn't talk much, but he has the cutest little crooked-toothed grin ever.

Leo is the cook/maid/everything. She keeps everything running on time, and I've never had such amazingly good food as hers. She's nearly as shy as Leao, but occasionally I can get her to say a few words.

And me? I'm the one who comes and goes at odd hours of the day, who insists on helping with the dishes, who consistently but happily butchers the Spanish language, and who is having an absolute blast.