The driver of the micro-bus crossed himself several times in the Catholic fashion as we crossed a mountain pass, around 4400 metres up in the Andes. Behind us was La Paz, and the steep rocks on either side of the road gave way to a magnificent valley below. The road dived down into steep kinks, and I hoped the driver would have more than his faith in God to get us down … (Read more: images and words from Bolivia's coca producing region)