The first time "it happened" to me ('cause it sort of happens before you know it) was when I was seventeen years old and my mother had the tremendous idea of me spending a year abroad during an intercultural exchange. So, why not? I decided I wanted to go to Brazil, but somehow I ended up in Portugal.

When I left to go there I could point out Portugal on the map. I thought the Portuguese ate fish and olives every day (both I didn't like in those days). I suspected the Portuguese language of actually being strongly influenced - if not replaced by - Chinese, probably it had something to do with Macao.

It was all very different from what I thought, but definitely worth it. After ten months I spoke fluently Portuguese and I had visited places like Lisbon, Coimbra, Sintra and Cascais and even Madeira.

I had learned some things about the rich history and culture of the country. It had taken about half a year for the visions of a guillotine to disappear when the word "revolution" was mentioned, but on April 25^th 1999 in Lisbon when I revisited Portugal I genuinely felt good wearing the traditional arm of the Portuguese revolution: a carnation.

Read more about Portugal in the archives of Europe

During my study in Delft I picked up an old idea and spread the word that my working-experience was going to take place in Brazil, putting myself in a position where I felt obliged to go there, not to loose my face.

I had to organize it myself and thought that the chances of succeeding were rather limited. Actually I have to admit that the latter quite comforted me.

But I set off for São Paolo four months later with one burning question repeating itself in my head. "Who's idea was this??? "

But this time I was better prepared than when I went to Portugal. I knew that São Paolo counted about seventeen to twenty million inhabitants and it lies not in the jungle. Besides I went in March so I had missed Carnival; so far the jungle and Carnival I had imagined.

I was surprised to find out that Carnival runs the entire year in Brazil. I also learned that a nickname for São Paolo, "concrete jungle", is a fair characterization of the place. It's a nice place if you know your way around but never was I so afraid to get lost - nobody can tell you the way once you lost it. Similarly I have passed great times but sometimes I felt very lonely, surrounded by so many people.

During the last month I left São Paolo and travelled the country ending up on all fours in forgotten mines in Ouro Preto, visiting Rio by helicopter, spending a week in a huge zinc mine near Brasilia and roaming the streets of Salvador de Bahia.

Read more about this trip to Brazil in the archives of the Americas in Brazil

One day I received a telephone call with the craziest question I was ever asked: couldn't I go to Brazil for three months to pick up stones for the ground verification of a geological map?

Now take your little atlas and find the very heart of South America, just South-West of the great Amazon river, still in Brazil and bordering Bolivia; there it is: Rondônia.

I didn't spend three months walking through the jungle with some a machete fighting off onças (small jaguars), crocodiles or boa constrictors.

But I did fight the biggest cockroaches ever known to mankind and I found out how many mosquitoes manage to hide in a shower-cabin.

Besides I settled for a record of broken tires and I spend lots of time digging out stuck cars.

And in the end, it was probably the most impressive thing I ever did.

Read more about Rondônia in the archives of the Americas