Tava'i comes out of nowhere after a couple of hours of pure dirt road--orange, fine dirt that, for the first hour, cuts through the middle of a whole lot of immigrant-owned fields of corn, soy, and sunflowers.  

This was one time I was thrilled to be among the oldest in the group.  The four youngest, including two on our team and the two daughters of the pastor, rode in the back so we "grown women" could protect ourselves from the dust and the bouncing.  The pastor has made this trip Lord-only-knows how many times in the 30-something years he's lived here, and he flies down those hilly dirt roads whenever he can build up speed.  Let's just say that our team members arrived a whole lot dirtier than they left, and more than a bit sore, despite wrapping themselves in tarps and sitting on pillows.

After lots of miles of crops, we turned onto a smaller path with a gate and a warning sign: "This road closed when it rains".  We were entering the Caazapa Reserve, home to what's left of a lovely section of rainforest and a couple groups of indigenous people.  Some of the Mby'a people greeted us on the side of the road.

We crossed a few wooden bridges that made me think twice.  Beside one, the passage got REALLY narrow because there was a good portion of the road had eroded away, into the stream flowing way beneath us.