Raucous cheering filled the air which competed with the hum and thrum of the rain forest.  Wild toucans flew about the forest canopy while 6 foot long arapaima fish swam below the tangle of arms and legs that were trying to coordinate themselves down the river.

In Rio Quente, Brazil, a thermal river and water playground, I had come across 100 people participating in a Brazilian corporate teambuilding event.  I was traveling in Brazil for part vacation and part working at the United Nations World Urban Forum.

From what I could tell, not speaking the language, folks were divided into teams.  Each team was given four inner tubes, 6 long pieces of bamboo, rope and a flag.  Teams had to build a raft and paddle from one spot to another, whereupon another part of their team would take up the challenge and paddle on to another destination.

There was lots of noise – cheering, yelling, clapping and hollering.  No shy retiring folk here.  It was hilarious to watch and got me to thinking about teambuilding, Brazilian style.   Specifically, I noticed a variety of team personalities:

• some were not in any particular hurry, though it was obviously a race.  They took time to smell the jungle flowers so to speak and appeared relaxed and calm
• some were focused on comfort – their rafts had back supports which were formed by folding the inner tubes in half
• some were intent on using only the strongest members of the team.  I watched one team paddle under the bridge I was standing on, where only the men were paddling.  The women on the team were simply languorously languishing about.  I wondered whose plan that was and what the effects were of ignoring half your team.
• some were paddling like hell but not working as a team.  I saw one team where an individual didn’t seem to know how to paddle and was actually paddling backwards, negating his teammates efforts.  None of his teammates appeared to notice
• other teams had it together and used the best of everyone.  Their rhythms were coordinated and, not surprisingly, they booted down the river quite quickly

What I didn’t see was any particularly creative raft making.  If their goal was to get from point a to point b as quickly as possible then the most common impediment to that was the drag caused by people’s bodies being vertical in the water.

If it was me I would have encouraged my team to simply lash all the supplies together, hop in water and swim it all down the river.  Swimming would have had our bodies more horizontal, allowed for less drag and way more speed.

Now I don’t know if that would have been in the ‘rules’ but that’s what I would have encouraged.

Identifying the boxes we put around our thinking and busting them down is a great gateway to creativity.  This often includes circumventing the so called ‘rules’.

And you?  What would you have done?

I’m traveling and working in Brazil, for the United Nations, and recently had a curious example of decision making using Bingo.

The tale happens in Rio Quente, a resort anchored around a thermal river.  Think every kind of water themed event and you’ll get the picture, including snorkeling with 6 foot long arapaima fish and sliding down a massively steep half pipe on a small inflatable boat.

One balmy evening we decided to go to the 1970′s disco themed show.  Before the show, oddly enough, a bingo table was wheeled out.  Being game for strange adventures I bought two bingo cards for my kids to play.  We sat up very close to the callers, straining our necks to see the board because we didn’t understand the calls in Portuguese.

By some miracle my son won.  The equivalent of $65.  Sweet!

Fast forward to check out time.  Do you think we could find the winning receipt?  I emptied packs, looked under the bed, and any other corner I could find with no luck.  Our next adventure, the road to Rio was calling and I was getting desperate.

Then we remembered we’d taken a picture of Jeremy with his winning ticket.  Voila!  A simple cut, paste and enlarge and we had the ticket.  I was ecstatic.

Until the desk person wouldn’t accept it.  I tried pointing out the ticket number, clearly visible in the photo.  He only shook his head.  This went on for some minutes.

I was getting more annoyed, frustrated at the apparent brick-walling.  No creativity here.

Then I asked for the manager’s name and email.

And then the deluge began.  All of a sudden there were many people trying to help.  A manager requested I email him the picture.  And finally we received our winnings.

So what made the difference?  Why was a decision based on what one individual wanted (me) different than when it may have gone public?  Did face make the difference, as in not wanting to loose it?

What do yo use as the basis for making a decision?  Would you change your decision if more people were involved, if it were a public or a private matter?

I recently did a marathon.  I drove 17 hours, from Rio Quente to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to present a cultural intelligence workshop at the United Nations World Urban Forum.

When the impossibly white fat and fluffy clouds, which have floated in an endless sea of sky, have given way to an inky darkness great tunes on my IPhone keep me bopping in my seat.  At least I think they’re great.

Liam, my son, pronounces them crap.  Repeatedly.

Finally a request to listen to the ‘Dave and Morley stuff’ (Stuart McLean’s Vinyl Café podcast) comes in.  From Liam.

Liam, the one who is on the cusp of leaving behind childhood and entering teenagehood.  Liam, the one who makes my head spin when in one moment, he’s chasing lizards (and dropping them in the pousada pool) and the next is talking about Life, with a capital ‘L’.  Big questions.  Big curiousity.

He’s at that curious stage where he believes with every fiber of his being that he is forging not just a brand new path but also a completely unique one.  He doesn’t yet realize that many have gone before him, he doesn’t see the slightly crushed grass on the trail, the odd branch broken by folks in a hurry, folks who have been here before. Folks who have shunned their parents when peers were anywhere close.  And yes, folks who complained bitterly about their parents’ music.

We’ve all sat at the same table, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Around about then he plays a Stuart McLean’s Christmas podcast.  Matt Anderson comes on and sings an achingly beautiful rendition of ‘O Holy Night’.

I’m overcome.  There in the middle of March, in the middle of Brazil I’m listening to a Christmas song. When Matt sings the well known verse ‘fall on your knees’, a lump as big as a walnut fills my throat.

I’m so grateful for this moment. To be traveling together through this bubble of blackness that our car headlights rhythmically pierce.

When you drive up a steep hill there’s a point where you can’t see where you’re going, where you can’t see beyond the crest of the hill.  Your inclination is to put on the brakes but experience tells you to keep going.

The road hasn’t given up its secret, about what’s on the other side of the next hill.  The headlights haven’t yet illuminated the unknown.  I have to take a leap of faith and trust that the road, the road that many others have traveled before us, will rise up and meet us.