Bad Busing

Trip Start Feb 20, 2008
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Trip End Aug 20, 2008


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Flag of Bolivia  ,
Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Our bus was scheduled for 11am, but finally trudged out of the "bus station" (a single row of rickety wooden shacks) at 1.50pm. As it heaved and jerked, black sludgy water poured from every crack and crevice, the accumulation of muck and rainwater of the past several days.

Rob and I, serendipidously, were made to move a row backwards, and thus saved ourself from the deathly deluge.

Our dirty and wet bus laboured painfully along what used to be some semblance of road. Now, they were but red muddy tracks, sodden and slippery. It became unbearable for me to look, as, on our left, I saw the top of clouds, obscuring whatever lay beneath. On our right, I saw the dense canopy of treetops and an unfathomable drop before we would ever hit dirt.

The bus rocked and swayed precariously from side to side, often times jolting us out of our seats. Fellow passengers shrieked as we seemingly lost a wheel over the edge. I leaned back, teeth clenched, eyes shut and my hand closing in hard over Rob's.

"If we die today, I want you to know that I would have wanted to spend my lifetime with you," I said as calmly as I could.

And that's when you know he's the one.
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