I became a mother to 20 "babies" - or at least that was the running joke in the office.

Let me build a bit of context to explain.  I'm managing the Canada Sourcing Program, a new training initiative to help bring young talent to the Nickel Business in Vale Canada.  It is comprised of an intense training and development period, as well as two job rotations - one here in Brazil and another back in Canada. I've been organizing, managing and preparing the program for months, and have had a strong role in the selection process, so it is definitely my pet project and one that is close to my heart - as I get to provide this amazing opportunity to 20 talented young Canadians.

My personality is quite motherly anyway, but that aside, I do kind of feel like these trainees are my children. I helped choose them, I've done my best to prepare them, and now I'm going to be with them most of the way for this journey in Brazil. So, yes, the jokes have some merit but what is really quite funny to me is to think that just several months ago, I was the "child" and now my colleagues expect and trust in me to provide guidance and support to this fresh group.  This whole experience of bringing these trainees here has allowed me to reflect on my own journey of living abroad and how it has changed me, which I am grateful for.

This experience has also brought back the memories of my arrival in Brazil and not knowing anything about the culture (books can only teach you so much - you need to live it to truly understand). It seems so far away now, but I can remember feeling anxious and excited.  A little scared of the reputation of this city, and if I would be street-smart enough to stay safe.  I was worried about making new friends and finding my way in a completely new life.  A little homesick at times, longing for Canadian food, music - anything that felt comfortable and normal to me, the adjustment to the longer work days, language barrier and corporate business culture. 

Fast forward to today, and I'm happy to say most of those things seem trivial now. I've adapted quite well and grown to love the music, food, people and everything else that comes with living in Rio. I have a diverse and amazing group of friends. I've become more perceptive and conscious in my everyday life.  Language is still an issue sometimes but I just might be more fluent than I give myself credit for.  It hasn't always been easy or fun, but even the struggles I went through have helped me grow stronger, confident and more mature.

Professionally, I couldn't have asked for more. The responsibility and challenge in my role have taught me to delegate, prioritize and think strategically and long-term.  I'm learning to lead and manage people, how to make tough decisions and when to ask for help.  This has been a great experience for me as I have to look outside my own culture and business norms to find a way to merge the best of the different cultures together.

Having spent the last week with these new guys, and reflecting on my own experience, I feel proud of my journey, my personal and professional growth living in a foreign country and now I am so excited  to see the new trainees do the same.  To my readers, if the opportunity arises for you to live abroad - TAKE IT. It is truly something life changing - even if only for short time.

The auditorium brimmed with the busy chatter of gossiping parents all prepping their cameras. Their drone was broken intermittently by squeaking chairs from fidgeting siblings, too young to be in school, licking homemade lollipops sold by a vendor at the door. Amongst this mix sat my Bolivian host family and I, patiently waiting for the show that was about to unfold.

A customary hour after the original start time it was announced that Dios es Amor Elementary was ready to commence its 25th anniversary celebrations. Eager 1st graders proceeded down the aisle and, on cue, I clambered toward the stage following the lead of my host mother. With camera in hand, we set out to capture the moment we had been waiting for: Lauren Pedraza, my 6-year-old Bolivian sister, performing a folk dance from Santa Cruz province with her grade. I grinned proudly as I watched Lauren step to the tune of the blaring speakers, her steps changing on whistle cue from her school teacher.

To me, this was bliss and I beamed as only an older brother could as I watched the dance that had unfolded in front of my eyes so many times at home was finally acted out in full costume. At last, I felt like family.

While I have a wonderful network of friends in Bolivia, these special moments remind me of how lucky I am to experience the traditional life of a Bolivian family.

Host families during internships are not created equal. For some, it is purely a monetary exchange. Take, for example, an intern whose family tried to sell him a towel and laundry detergent and dinged him extra for meals he wasn't entitled to, apparently costs beyond the money they were already receiving.

My experience has been quite the opposite and I feel at times a fifth child to the family.

My Bolivian father is only five years older than I am and he invites me out to his country farm to play soccer. I have two remarkable little Bolivian sisters whom I colour with, teach English to, and play peek-a-boo with, and I live (mostly) in harmony with my American and Brazilian sisters. My Bolivian mother is a best friend to me who passes her days chatting with me about the neighbours, and taking care of her children who are growing up so quickly. She is also someone who cares for me during my spate of illnesses with her pots of homemade chicken noodle soup and traditional remedies (a bit of Singani vodka in lemon tea). And, not to be outdone, is my Bolivian grandmother, a feisty woman who whips up delicious recipes on the fly, and who chides me for always eating too little and being too skinny ("What will your mother say when you return to Canada?")

Family is of utmost importance here, and I have stepped into their shoes for the past months. Money is tight in the family, but they remain upbeat about their situation. It is sad to see the sacrifices made, such as the washing machine, dryer, fridge, DVD player, and camera being sold when the children became sick. My Bolivian mother jokes that she will be the next thing to be sold.

Still, the family finds time to celebrate momentous occasions - birthdays, graduations, good grades, and holidays. Several birthdays have passed in the house, and, as is tradition, the celebrant must bite the entire cake and have their face pushed in it - I have accompanying photos of each event.

It is a cliché to say that their situation gives me an appreciation for what we have back in Canada. But with each date closer to my departure, I think about everything that I will be leaving behind, namely the warmth and generosity to welcome a stranger into their house and embrace him like family.

Roast chicken is served by restaurants lining the streets of Santa Cruz. I have indulged in this meal only three times since my arrival, and each time I have parted with a different feeling. My first meal left me with a greasy hangover, and my second, with a case of indigestion. But with my most recent food affair, I felt a twinge of gastronomical homesickness, a longing for the cultural buffet that I normally dine on in Edmonton.

My remedy has been a weekly "International Dinner" with fellow AIESEC interns to sample international cuisine throughout Santa Cruz. Scouring for Indian or Greek food in Bolivia might sound spotty, and on more than one occasion my palate has adjusted to a Bolivian interpretation of ethnic dishes.

Take, for example, one rendition of sushi. With limited access to the ocean and freshwater rivers, seafood is a pricey commodity. So, some locals have substituted fish with the cheaper hot-dog meat alternative. Nonetheless, I welcome this sushi as a delicious alternative to roast chicken. For a more authentically Japanese flavour, however, locals recommended I travel to the Japanese colony of Okinawa 1, a short two hours away. There, I was told, I would encounter the best sushi in Bolivia.

More than just a little curious as to why Japanese settlers took up refuge in the middle of jungle country, I set off with my pack, a day's worth of provisions, and a scrap of paper filled with basic Japanese expressions. I initially viewed my visit to Okinawa 1 as a sort of novelty day trip, a story worthy of being recounted at parties and gatherings of how I made peace with the reclusive Amazonian-Japanese-Bolivians by exchanging Canadian flag pins over tea and sushi. Instead, I became aware of the tip of the iceberg of the issue of multiculturalism in Bolivia - mainly its problems and attempted solutions.

Accompanied by a Romanian and a Bolivian friend, the latter speaking far better Japanese than I ever will, we descended upon Okinawa 1 early one Sunday morning. Unexpectedly, we encountered a humble, quaint-looking town more reminiscent of Alberta prairies than tropical rain forest. Furthermore, the first person to greet us was the local English teacher, an Education major from Connecticut. He recounted the history of Okinawa 1, 2, and 3, which were formerly plots of rain forest donated by the Bolivian government to Japanese settlers following the devastation of Japan in the Second World War. Arriving in 1954, the first settlers worked hard to cultivate the land - an incredible feat considering the jungle they inherited - and have since transformed Okinawa into a thriving agricultural town. Though racial divisions formerly segregated the colony, the ethnic Japanese now pride themselves on living in harmony with the camba of Santa Cruz. The town's annual celebration of its foundation is celebrated with both Japanese and Bolivian customs, and both cultures take pride in calling Okinawa 1 their home.

I fell in love with this hidden gem: a neatly tucked away, perfectly integrated community, which exemplified multiculturalism at its finest.

Reality Check

The story of Okinawa 1 as representative of Bolivia as a haven of ethnic diversity is a bit misleading, by Canadian standards, at least.

Though to outsiders such as myself, everyone appears as a Latino, over 40 minority ethnic groups inhabit the country. Bolivia's government enacts policy it deems just, sometimes without the appropriate consultation of different regions. This often results in disorder and chaos, worsened only by the response of the people, whose solution is to retaliate and take to the streets - protesting, blocking major transport routes for days, even weeks at a time, and striking out in violence. Negotiations are attempted but the government's patchwork solutions often falter within short periods of time. The country's last major conflict, about the over-representation of the indigenous communities in parliament, nearly erupted in civil war.

Epilogue

In light of Bolivia's ongoing cultural tensions, it seems that Okinawa 1 is a rarity in a country where people often do not co-exist in harmony. Age-old tensions between ethnic groups continue to flare up and it seems that no solution is in sight.

In the end, I, Bolivia's self-professed culinary expert, left Okinawa 1 without finding sushi in the restaurants, since the town accesses only a dried-up river and is even further from the Santa Cruz transport hub.

A few weeks ago I had to travel to the airport to register with the Federal Police and I had the opportunity to see a favela up close and personal. Even though I only drove/stopped through one, and in an air conditioned and plush bus (how ironic, I know) it still had a big impact on me so I did a little research to learn more and I wanted to capture that here as I find it fascinating.

"Favela" means slum in Portuguese and interestingly enough the original favelas in the late 19th century were build by freed black slaves who had no land ownership, and they were eventually pushed out into the suburbs. In the 1970s there was a huge construction boom in Rio and a massive influx of people came from poorer states to work, but not being able to find places to live, even greater favelas were created with a mixture of poor and middle class families. Sadly enough, the poorest people were pushed out onto the street, and today in Rio the majority of homeless people are black - the original "creators" of the favelas.

The favelas in Rio are very well known, as they are within the hillsides of the suburbs facing the beautiful beaches, tourist spots and downtown core - visually you cannot escape them. In Rio about 19% of the population is said to live in a favela, that is about 1 in 5 people...so there is definitely someone I've met - either at work, through AIESEC, etc that lives in one of these areas. Favelas have a very bad reputation internationally for being violent, but through some basic research and talks with people here - inside the favelas is quite safe - there are certain social codes which forbid people to commit crime in their own favela, and if you do the punishment is severe. The violence comes from the drug territorial fights within or between favelas and fights with police. If you are interested in learning more about these areas, I suggest watching "Cidade de Deus" or "City of God" - the movie has a bit of violence, but apparently it depicts favela life quite well.

There is also a stigmata associated with people who live in these areas - which is odd, because as the city has grown more and more middle class have moved to favelas, and the majority of these areas in Rio have electricity, etc so it cannot be completely seen as an area for only the poorest and uneducated any longer. I could see the total disparity in wealth within the favela itself - One house will be falling apart, no roof or windows and the one beside it looks like a home in my neighbourhood - it has air conditioning, glass windows, gated door, etc...It's crazy. I will say however that despite this the extreme poverty can still be seen - trash and dirt in the streets, the buildings about to collapse...it is really shocking to see.

I'd like to know what the city plans to do for the 2014 World Cup or 2016 Olympics - from the airport to downtown, favelas are all you can see for miles and for a city where appearance matters, this will most likely not be acceptable. I actually had the opportunity to go back to the airport this week and I noticed that screens have been put up along most of the highway so the view of the favelas has now mostly been blocked. Quick fix? Sure, but I have also heard of programs the government is running with the police force - they are sweeping many favelas, arresting drug lords and generally trying to clean up the areas. Some favelas are being legitimately hooked up to hydro and power to give the people a sense of belonging and citizenship within the city. Programs are being created and run to give the people a new source of income other than the drug trade. It's great to see concrete things are being done, perhaps not for the right reasons - it is preparing this city to receive a mass influx of foreigners well at the same time providing a better quality of life to the people who live in these areas.

I've noticed it is hard here to have a conversation about the favelas...I'm guessing it is a taboo topic within Rio as very few people have been willing to have a conversation about it, which frustrates me because I am so curious about them. I would love to take a guided tour to really see things (outside of a bus) and learn more about the people and their way of life. We shall see :)

Being Canadian, I will admit I am not much of a soccer  or "futebol" fan - I grew up watching hockey games with my friends and soccer was just one of those sports  that wasn't on my radar. Well I can say it is on my radar now. The World Cup is happening as I write this, and it is almost impossible not to get caught up in the passion and excitement in the city, in the country.

The World Cup is an event that only happens every four years, so I consider myself very lucky to be on this internship in Brazil during a year it is happening. The fact that the next one will be hosted here in Rio is also something that even I, a gringa (affectionate Portuguese term for a foreigner) am getting excited about. Why? It's hard to put into words but I will try.

Imagine it's game day for Brazil. You walk out into the street and all you see is green and yellow - everywhere you look. The streets are decorated with flags, posters and streamers; everyone is wearing jerseys, hats, even jewelry that represents Brazil. Babies are decked out in miniature futebol gear, and you even pass a lady carrying her small dog, who is also wearing a jersey and hat!  The streets are full of people, as most companies have allowed their employees the afternoon off to watch the game. All you can hear are people laughing, cheering, using blow horns and other noise makers constantly. Restaurants, laundromats, and offices have rented or bought televisions for the big game and you can see men stopping in the street, straining to see what is happening before they hurriedly continue on their way. The excitement in the air is paramount; you can feel it and can't help but get excited, as well. There is such a sense of pride and passion everywhere, it almost brings you to tears. You get goose bumps just thinking about what will happen if Brazil wins the World Cup.

I was invited to my manager's home to watch the Brazil-North Korea game with her and her family and some friends from work. We were given lots of memorabilia to wear and play with, there was a wonderful spread of food and drinks, and everyone settled in to watch the first period. I will admit I was watching everyone's reactions more than the game. If a Brazil player even got close to the net with the ball, the screaming would start. When Brazil scored - everyone jumped up, screaming, laughing and hugging each other as if they had scored that goal themselves. Fireworks went off in the street and the noise was almost deafening between the cheering and the noise makers. It was an amazing moment - seeing the pride and joy my friends took in that goal for their country. Half time was when dinner was served and everyone got refills on their drinks and then it was back to watch the second half. Brazil won that game, and everyone assures me I haven't seen anything yet and to wait until Brazil makes the finals. For me, only Canadian Habs fans may come close to what I've seen here in terms of pride and almost mania about a team or sport. 

Soccer is more than a game for the people here - it is a way of life, it is cherished, respected and, for many young boys, the only way to make a good life for themselves. It is something to believe in. For a country that did not have much of an international presence until recently, the World Cup has paved the way to international recognition with Brazil having won the World Cup a record 5 times in its history and also being the only country to play in all 18 tournaments. My next stop: The FIFA Fan Fest (one of six in the world) at Copacabana beach, where thousands of fans will gather to watch the games. Maybe I should bring ear plugs?

 "Anthony ... Anthony! Wake up! Did you hear that? What was that noise?"

Startled awake at 3 a.m., I hazily focused my eyes on the intruder who had barged into my quarters. It was the new intern, plucked fresh from Chicago, trembling, with a look of sheer terror on her face.

Groggy, I stumbled into the outer courtyard to investigate the sound - a drainage pipe knocked over by the wind and rolling around. As I assuaged her concerns by telling her that robbers had neither the interest nor the capability to bypass our heavily padlocked and spiked gate, I reflected on my first days passed here in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia.

After living here for one and a half months, the night sounds of blaring Reggaeton music, bursts of firecrackers, and muffled taxi engines no longer bother me, but I sympathize with how different this must seem to my new colleague. It goes without saying that life in Santa Cruz is the polar opposite of Canadian life. This contrast is most obviously found in the city's structure: a disorganized urban sprawl centred on endless rings of businesses and shops intermixed with humble houses. In every possible space one can find someone selling goods - jewellery, cigarettes, and gum are the most common. The traffic is incomparable, the buses filled to the brim with people, and crossing the road is akin to a game of Frogger. Amidst this chaos, I have trouble understanding how the locals find anything here; every other street looks identical to me - a cryptic puzzle that only the Camba people of Santa Cruz can solve.

While I am no longer afraid to venture through bustling markets and unnamed streets, I am always conscious of the stares I get when a Chinese-looking foreigner speaks English and dons summer outfits in the middle of Bolivia's supposed winter. But, day by day, I am unravelling this city's code. I feel more and more at home here, especially given the hospitality of my host family and my quasi-adoption as their third child. Moreover, I have adapted to the relaxed, nonchalant attitude toward day-to-day life.  Work starts at around 8:00 in the morning, there is a three-hour siesta from 12:00 to 3:00, and the day finishes at around 7:00. However, time is extremely flexible here. I mentally prepare for my days by expecting the unexpected and going along with whatever comes my way.

During the late afternoon and evening I work as an English teacher, teaching low-income students at Procavida, an umbrella organization whose overreaching ambitions are to improve the productivity and quality of life in Bolivia. Projects in this organization range from water purification in local villages, to increasing health-care access for the poor, to improving English proficiency in schools.

For the second phase of my project, I will be offering classes to the public-school English school teachers of Bolivia, to improve their level of literacy, and to pass on my knowledge to their students. I have come to learn, however, that things proceed at a snail's pace, and that proposed times and dates must be taken with a grain of salt. I have been waiting an entire month to enter the school system, but every week a new barrier delays our start date further and further.

At night, I explore the boisterous nightlife of Santa Cruz. Despite being the most expensive city in Bolivia, the 10 boliviano ($1.50) vats of Paceña beer flow endlessly, and the youth of the city party till the wee hours of the morning.

But what I find most captivating about Bolivia is the adoption of liberal ideas, which have migrated south from the States. Such is the case with the growing electronic music scene, viewed as "radical" by most parents, and to me, as slightly amusing. It is tremendously exciting to see a society react to the emergence of these "new" discoveries for the first time.

While I find the pseudo-Americanism of Santa Cruz endearing, this is not the image I first conjured when thinking of Bolivia. But it is in the poorer, indigenous, western part of the country, the Occidente, that one finds the traditions of the Andes. In my first weekend here, I witnessed this strange mix of tradition and modernism when visiting the capital of La Paz: where chola women wearing top hats, layered skirts, and babies slung in bright rainbow-coloured sacs on backs are mixed amongst a city of climbing skyscrapers.

The marked contrasts between the western Occidente and eastern Oriente perpetually fascinate me. While both sides are undoubtedly Bolivian, the commercial hub of Santa Cruz in the west resents the socialist supporters of Evo Morales in the east. Thus, the country is divided down the middle - Cambas from the Oriente versus Collas from the Occidente. Talk of separation always lingers in the air, but my Bolivian friends believe that this will never come to fruition.

While Santa Cruz's quest for separation is remarkably similar to the divide between Quebec and the rest of Canada, the differences between these two countries is so tremendous that it is difficult to draw any more parallels. Bolivia remains severely underdeveloped, and at times I feel as if I've travelled through a time warp. Nonetheless, Santa Cruz is industrializing at lightening speed and this is driven by its young and fiery soul. The spirit of Santa Cruz is infectious, and Camba pride is flashed in the white and green banners that adorn the city. And with every day I pass here, every moment I share with my Bolivian family, and certainly with every bite of delicious yuca I consume, I feel a transformation coming about ... I can't help but feel more Camba by the day.

My name is Sasha Sears, I am a 25-year-old Canadian woman who picked up and moved to Rio de Janeiro in January. I've been here for four months, and for my first post I'd like to share a little about my work and cultural experiences here.

Working in Brazil

I am doing a one-year internship with a company called Vale, and I work as an HR analyst in the Vale Education area.  Vale is the second largest mining and energy company in the world, with operations on all five continents and over 30 countries. I'm really glad I took this opportunity, because I have seen firsthand what a socially conscious company can do for communities and the impact when you have the funds and the bargaining power to get things done. On the other side, I'm not naive enough to think this offsets the environmental damage and sheer water and energy consumption needed for mining, but it's a major focus for this company and that was important to me in terms of where I decided to provide my talents and skills.

I get to manage three of the largest international educational programs Vale offers, and I interact with a variety of stakeholders on a daily basis and am increasing my international network tenfold. I am managing seven-digit budgets and learning quickly the financial ins and outs of a large, bureaucratic, multinational organization. My work is challenging, frustrating, exciting and rewarding, all at same time.

I am managing a sourcing program for Vale in Canada and will soon bring 20 young and talented Canadians to Brazil for a development and training program, after which they have the opportunity to be hired full-time by the company. I also work with the SWAP program, where we bring Vale employees from all over the world for a job rotation in Brazil for four months to spread best-case practices, cultural understanding and to spread the Vale culture. Finally, I am working with an external partner company,  Mitsui & Co. Ltd., and we run a program where we exchange employees so they can learn more about the partner company and find better ways to work together and further our business relations.

As you can see, the scope of these projects all touch on internationalism and education, but they are very diverse and challenging.

The company culture is very hierarchical and bureaucratic, and, while frustrating, it's allowed me to be resourceful and diplomatic in my interactions and tasks.  

People in Brazil work very hard, something that was a shock for me when I first arrived. Coming to South America, I was expecting a laid-back pace with a two-hour siesta after lunch ... No such thing exists in Brazil, much to my disappointment. Vale, specifically, is growing at an amazing rate, so the pace is very fast and projects are picked up quickly and expected to be executed in short time frames. This is the exciting part - the challenge of a tight deadline and working with a team to get the project finished on time. So far, I really enjoy my job here and I will provide more insight to the company culture and business environment here in Brazil later on.

Living in Brazil

I live in one of the most violent cities in the world. The parents were supportive, but definitely anxious about me living here in the beginning, but I wanted a challenge and to see for myself if the world's perception of this beautiful city was true. I can say that, so far, it's not. Is there violence? Of course, any major city has crime and violence. You just need to be smart - stay out of dangerous areas, be observant of your surroundings. Flashy watches, phones and jewellery should be avoided, as well. Because I am careful with the above, I cannot think of one time I have felt unsafe here. I like to think I'm slowly but surely changing the mindset about this city with my friends and family, and now I hope I am doing so with you, as well.

I came to Brazil knowing about five words in Portuguese. A lot of people have called me stupid, brave and daring, but I really did not think about it before coming here. Duh. I guess I just figured it would all work out, and mostly, it has.

I will say, it's very frustrating not being able to communicate something as simple as wanting a glass of orange juice, but at the same time, I love the challenge of it: being creative with hand gestures, using a mixture of French, English and whatever else I could think of to get my point across.  The experience of learning a new language in a foreign city has allowed me to be more resourceful and creative, and also provided me with more patience. I'm not fluent in Portuguese yet, but I'm getting there.

Life here never ceases to amaze me.  Every day there is something new and exciting to see, to learn, to experience ... and I'm happy I have the chance to share that with others through this blog.

And how did I find this amazing opportunity, you ask??! I am an exchange participant with a student run organization called AIESEC. I have been involved with this organization for many years and it has provided me with a lot of opportunities, something I would like to touch on in a later post.

I hope you enjoyed my first post, and look forward to sharing more about my experience here in the coming months!