What if this bus falls down into the gorge..?!

Near La Paz, there is a mountain road advertised as "the most dangerous road in the world". I refuse to do a mountain bike tour on that "death road", because I don't like scary things and I'm also annoyed by the commercialism, as if every traveller should do it! But later I realise I end up doing something more scary.

I decide to travel to Rurrenabaque, a small, relaxed town about 400 km from La Paz, in order to visit Madidi national park. In the morning I take a taxi to the street outside the center where the northbound buses leave. When I see the bus with big double tires I figure it might be a rough ride. I have no idea! Rough is a mild expression for the scariest road I've ever travelled. The first three hours to Coroico the road is paved and has barriers. The views to the green mountains and valleys are breathtaking. And finally I can hear some Bolivian music in the bus instead of watching American movies.

After Coroico the road is not flat and safe like I had assumed, but a narrow gravel road along the mountain sides. Of course without any barriers! I can't help thinking about what would happen if the driver made a small mistake and the bus would fall into the gorge. I sit upstairs in the first row with the best - but also the scariest - view. There are no seatbelts. My hands are sweating and sometimes I grab my hair out of fear when we go to a curve. Somewhere on the way the bus stops. The engine starts, but doesn't stay running. In about an hour the driver fixes the motor and we can continue. After that I have a bit more confidence in his driving skills, too.

At 6 pm we stop in a small town for dinner. I go to a restaurant with a Portuguese guy, the only foreigner in the bus in addition to me. A soup and the main course of meat, rice and salad cost only 10 bolivianos (1.20 EUR).

The journey continues in the dark and it feels quite absurd to be there, travelling on the bumpy and winding road, seeing banana trees and other tropical vegetation on the side of the road and listening to the music played in the bus - technopop from my teenage years! "Bum digi digi digi bum digi bum, think about the way how we live today..." (This piece of lyrics actually contains an important message.) Another interesting thing in the bus is the smell. The only air-conditioning is the wind from the few open windows. Everybody is sweating and I can only guess how uncomfortable the local women must feel in their wide dresses.

When we stop at a police control point and have to get out of the bus, I swear to the Portuguese guy: "I'm sooooo going to fly back!" The bus costs 60 Bs. (7 EUR), whereas a flight is almost ten times more, 480 Bs. (60 EUR). Later in Rurrenabaque I hear that the last accident happened two years ago. Counting the amount of buses, something around 2000 busrides per year on that road, I come to the conclusion it isn't so dangerous after all. Back home I've had two accidents with a deer and a moose on the road. Several people die in Finland every year in such accidents. But there you don't feel the danger...

At 7:40 am, after travelling the whole day and night, almost 20 hours (a distance of only 400 km!) I finally arrive in Rurrenabaque. I get my dusty backpack from the trunk of the bus and get a ride to my hostel at the back of the hostel owner's motorcycle. I'm exhausted, but happy to be alive and immediately like the laid-back tropical town where everyone moves around with a motorbike (without helmets, of course!) and chickens roam freely in the gardens.