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The bus ride from La Paz to Rurrenabaque is not recommended. It’s a 20-hour journey starting on Bolivia’s notorious Death Road, then later on to bumpy and awkward dirt tracks through the Amazon rainforest. Smart travellers would take the short 40-minute flight, but curiosity got the best of me... Didn’t that kill the cat? The bus accelerates on narrow winding roads with sheer cliff drops, looking down you can see the fallen empty shells of vehicles. Regret kicks in and I start to feel panic. Up to 300 people per year perished on The North Yungas Road, aka Death Road, before parts of the route were made safer in 2006, however, large sections have still not been improved. “This is what you wanted! So calm down and enjoy the ride” said my girlfriend Aliya. I close my eyes. Deep breathing helps. (Breathe). The road was built in the 1930s by Paraguayan prisoners of war to connect the capital, La Paz, with more of rural Bolivia and the Amazon. It was once declared ‘the most dangerous road in the world’. I open my eyes and look up. Head on rushing towards us is another bus, ensues a brief game of chicken and our driver eventually yields, this is very different from the more familiar friendly wave of passing bus drivers. Braking, our driver grabs and shifts the gear stick to reverse, steering the back wheels to dangle in the air over the cliff edge to make way… T. I. B. This is Bolivia. The opposing bus passes in triumph and death’s door remains ajar. Before reaching the Amazon, the route pierces through the lush cloud forests of Las Yungas, where small communities of Afro-Bolivianos live, one of the better-known villages is Tocana, however many have left the region in pursuit of better opportunities... Hours drift, there is now a sense of calmness, but this is short-lived. A hub of activity is drawing near in front of us, stacked fruits and vibrant cloths, the bus slows attempting to divert the crowds, there is no room for manoeuvre, he gives up hope and passengers leave the vehicle… In broken Spanish, I ask the driver “How long will we be waiting?” “When the market is finished” “When will that be?” He shrugs his shoulders. T. I. B. This is Bolivia. “The road is the flattest part in the area, so this is why they have the market here… It should end in a few hours, so go and enjoy it!” explains the driver. With no other choice, we exit the bus and women in traditional dress yell to allure you to their produce and products. We settle on a table next to boiling silver pots and make an order, served to us is a thick soup of peanuts, cabbage and chickpeas. Three hours later and the market eventually fades. The driver whistles and signals for us all to get back on the bus, now there is just enough space for the bus to squeeze through. Darkness falls and at last, we enter the world’s largest rainforest to the soundtrack of humming, buzzing, chirping and hissing. I’m not a religious person, yet the sound of the Amazon is a truly spiritual experience. Rurrenabaque is one of the cheapest tourist spots in the Amazon with tours mostly by boat on ‘pampas’ - meaning ‘lowland’ in the indigenous language of Quechua. Animals spotted include anteaters (weird-looking!), monkeys, pink dolphins (yes pink!) alligators, piranhas, capybaras (Google them!), but this time no anacondas or sloths. Back at the hotel after 4 days of adventure, we are resting on a balcony overlooking a sun-kissed lake, Aliya turns to look at me and asks “How are we getting back to La Paz?” I answer “T. I. B.”