And so life ordained that our stay in the inhospitable city of Port Moresby in Papua New Guinea would be associated (and spiced up) by a host without peer: Rob Sajko.

Two years ago, Rob traded a comfortable and predictable existence in Australia for adventure in a wild neighbouring country. In exchange for a contract in an auto service firm and many expenses paid, Rob came to put some order in the corporate mess of PNG. His job: manage the locals who lower their heads to the white man but whom, according to him, steal tools and supplies when no one is looking.

A lot has happened since Rob’s first three months, when all he wanted was to go home. “I suffered a lot at first,” he said. “But my Australian friends are still stuck in the same routines, drinking the same beer, talking about the same things. When I come home it’s hard to get into their flow. Coming here gave me a vision of the world that I would have never acquired if I stayed at home.”

Rob’s gratitude is understandable, but I must admit, admirable. It’s one thing to leave Brazil in search of a more comfortable life, be in in Canada, England or Australia. It’s another thing entirely to leave Australia for Port Moresby.

Violence, cholera, stifling hear, inexistent leisure spaces, vegetables that cost as much as Swiss chocolate, Swiss chocolate that costs its weight in gold, filthy beaches, exorbitantly expensive internet… That’s Port Moresby, and so much more, Rob relates.

“Everyone born here has a sad story to tell. But this country grows on you. I like the social life with the expat community. I took some great trips and met incredible people. Not to mention Couchsurfing, which really opened my mind.”

And we were two lucky ones to enter this country via his safe harbour.

Rob was like a godfather from the first minute, when he picked us from the airport on a Monday morning. When he took us sailing at the city’s yacht club, we saw the city at sunset from far away with a cool breeze on our faces. For the first time, Port Moresby looked nice.

When Brazil played its first World Cup game, his neighbour opened his door at 3 am so we could watch the match on a large screen. Like a good Australian, Rob is mad about rugby (and could care less for soccer), but he woke up to watch with us. And the next day he moved his TV from his bedroom to the living room so we wouldn’t miss a game.

Rob enjoyed our travel stories like a dedicated father who cheers at his children’s joy. But we we also took turns at beige parental, cooking almost every night and preparing his lunch bags for the next day, moments, that according to him, were the most precious.

And you, do you still insist on staying in hotels? You don’t know what you’re missing.