Francisco. Born and raised in Santiago, in the land of hot dogs and empanadas and mountains of mayo, he was everything I don’t associate Chileans with—very tall and slim, eat’s so healthy, and cooks with a wok. And coconut milk. And curry paste. He puts on American blues while carrying out said cooking. Makes juice from fresh apples with a hand blender. And I mean this in the least creepy way possible: he’s basically husband-material.

I was lucky enough to taste his spicy chicken pasta he effortlessly whipped up in the wok, using cream and white wine. At dinner, I learned the following:

 

1. After travelling the world for four years, mainly in Asia, he’s thoroughly open-minded and accepting.

Not to mention impossible to profile to any nationality. We all know liberal people who don’t fit stereotypes, but Francisco was on another level. He has simply encountered so much.

After a year had passed, he met an American girl. They fell in love and backpacked together for the remainder of their adventures, meeting up with each other’s family and visiting one another at home.

Over the course of the entire trip, the worst that ever happened to him was his wallet being taken out of his pocket in India, and a credit card stolen from his bag when it was under a bus in Thailand. That’s a better record than so many in their first 24 hours.

 

2. He’s talking to a Slovakian girl he met in Madagascar who has a masters in Chinese and is planning on moving to Shanghai.

Okay, so maybe the backpacking couple fairytale didn’t end so well. His bag was always full of her cosmetics anyway. This girl sounds so much cooler! Seriously, who teaches children Chinese in Madagascar? They’ll be travelling through Czech Republic together for two weeks in July.

 

3. He bought an old Volkswagen he needs to fix up, then he’ll casually leave his job (mechanical engineer), and road-trip his way to the tip of Patagonia.

And then back up to Alaska. Slowly. With lots of zig zags.

 

4. Shortly before me, he hosted a German couple in his one-bedroom flat, except they had two kids with them.

Ages two and four. I actually don’t think I could pick a less desirable combination to travel with. Remember when I said Francisco was open-minded?

The parents took the couch that unfolds into a double bed, while the children each crashed on an oversized cushion. What an age to start couchsurfing. Every day I meet travelers in their 20s, 30s, 40s too scared of the idea. Imagine dividing those years by 10.

Yeah sorry my brain works in lots of numbers because I fit more stereotypes than Francisco.

But wait I’m not done! This family of four had already completed workaways in South America, including in Ecuador. As in the parents offered volunteer service and manual labor in exchange for accomodation and meals—an even more extreme form of budget travel. My ears are still trying to process these words that they heard over a month ago.

Of course, Francisco’s place only has one bathroom, and you have to cut through his bedroom to get to it. How well potty-trained were those kids?