The road is a dirt ribbon stretching across an endless expanse of tangled vines and tall trees–Bolivia’s green Hell. Today, I almost believe it. We walk, three strong, and in near silence. The mid-morning sun beats down, unmercifully, till I feel my body begin to melt. My eyes burn with sweat. It runs down my nose, forms a droplet, then falls to the ground. Another takes its place, then another. I wipe a sleeve across my face and trudge on.