The Chilean X-Files

A sampling of five unsolved mysteries from mi vida:

Why do Chileans wear shoes in the house?
This cultural difference drives me bonkers.
All I want to do is walk around barefoot.
At least from my room to the bathroom.
Anything.
Our apartment is so small, I could long-jump the length of it.
So why the insistence on shoe-wearing?
The floors aren't carpeted in nails and glass.
Sheesh.
I can't wait to be footloose back home.

Why does the pace of pedestrian traffic slow down in correlation to how quickly I need to get somewhere?
A Galopagos turtle could beat a Chilean in a foot race down Santiago's main drag.
And the later I am for class, the slower everyone seems to walk.
True, Chileans have their own "time," and it is about fifteen minutes slower than standard time.
But temporal discrepancies aside, I still do not understand why my fellow pedestrians are moving like their pants are full of molasses.

When do Chileans sleep?
My host family is wide awake when I go to bed.
They are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I wake up.
Hypothesis: could their lack of sleep be the cause of painfully slow pedestrianism?

Who is that woman napping in the apartment?
In my experience, the Chilean web of family-friend relationships is hard to draw.
That man's name could be "uncle," but he may not be anyone's actual uncle.
And the "cousins" extend into the far corners of the earth.
Usually, I haven't the foggiest idea as to how x-person is related to or associated with my host family.
I just introduce myself and give a kiss on the cheek.

What did I just eat for dinner?
I think I heard the phrase "like cooked shoes" from my host dad.
Whatever we ate was mighty tough.
At least I know my host mom is not cooking our shoes, as they never leave our feet.
Nevertheless.
I think I'd rather allow this question to remain unanswered.