Not sure if you've noticed as you've read my blog, but we have two married sons, formerly referred to as the Minneapolis kids (son and wife in Mpls.) and the Atlanta kids (son and wife in Atlanta).
Now, with a leap to another continent, we have Bolivian kids and Atlanta kids. Yes that's Bolivia the country, in case there is a city somewhere in the US named Bolivia. Did not want any confusion.
The Bolivian son (sounds strange even to me, will I ever get used to it?) just got certification in ESL and wanted to go somewhere to be immersed in another language. He had church contacts in La Paz, so they chose Bolivia. I remember being thankful when they discarded Juarez, Mexico from their consideration. Adventurous, they are. And living their dream.
Just a few days ago, they traveled by bus to a remote town to attend a language school and hopefully volunteer at an orphanage. They went by the only route available, via the MOST dangerous road in the world.
Really. Google "most dangerous road" and this is the response you get.
And it's the rainy season. So the road is muddy. Not a good road in good weather. Rainy season.
This is totally beyond my comprehension. Ask my husband about driving with me as a passenger in the Black Hills. Not even mountains. There are guardrails and plenty of room for two lanes and pavement with lines painted on them. Still I freaked out a few times and asked him to slow down.
Just thought I'd share. Your prayers are coveted.