We spend a lot of time on a bus. Imagine a 1965 square model with 25 seats and a weeping Jesus stairing back at you on the window behind the driver's seat. The steering wheel says "Toyota" on it, but I haven't confirmed that's actually the make of this bald tired beast.
Bus time is tiring, but I've started to recognize a purpose in it. As we navigate the roundabouts of Cochabamba, it serves us as a constant reminder of where we are. It's a social machine. No one ever sits in the same spot with the same person (or at least I haven't noticed). It's been a great place for me to get to know the great high schoolers on this trip as well as the Ninos kids.
And oh by the way, we did top out at 53 people on this bad boy for our trip up to Cristo (and bottom out over each speed bump). Memories on an old bus etched in my brain forever.
Ross Laursen