La Paz/Rurrenabaque, Bolivia

Tuesday, January 4, 2004:

Chris, Jay and I woke up at 5 AM and made our tired and bloated (from too much cake) way back to the military airport to see if TAM would fly that day or keep us waiting around for 8 hours again. In fact, after only half an hour, a line formed and word quickly went around that the weather in Rurre was crystal clear.

Inside and outside, our plane looked like what it was --- a military transport jet that had been converted for passenger use. It wasn´t pretty, but it did seem efficient. While we did not have any of the amenities a typical passenger jet of the same size (40-50 or more passengers) has, we also didn´t have to suffer through any instructional videos or demonstrations on seat-belt and oxygen-mask use. Probably because if anything happened to the plane, we would be flat-out screwed anyway.

Bolivia is a beautiful country, oceanfront land being the only thing that it lacks. Upon take-off, we saw La Paz sprawled out for miles in its 400 meter-deep bowl ringed by mountains. Nearby stood enormous mountains Illimani and Huayna Potosi, both rising to over 6000 meters, as well as numerous other peaks in excess of 5000 meters. Around La Paz were farms and green, terraced hills. As we flew north, the mountains dropped away and the ground below us grew greener and more distant (because we were flying from 3700 meters to 100 meters, we did not need to gain much altitude over La Paz; we seemed to be getting higher as we approached the jungle because the land beneath us was dropping sharply with every mile).

After 45 minutes we landed in a grassy field in the jungle, a few small huts marking the "airport" facilities. We thought we were in Rurre, but, in fact, we were not. Nobody had told us that we would be making a stop in another jungle town first. This is typical of TAM (and, as one Bolivian told me, Bolivia): They do what they do without telling you anything and you had better deal with it. In the end, you´ll get where you´re going. Maybe.

Another 30 minutes of flight got us to Rurre by roughly 10 AM --- only an hour and a half behind schedule. The sky and sun were brilliant and the temperature was at least 85 degrees. Although the runway was, once again, a long stretch of mowed grass, the facilities on hand were actually fairly impressive for a jungle town. They consisted of two small buildings with a restaurant and a waiting area and, what was more, there were trucks on hand to facilitate rapid unloading of luggage. Within minutes, we were on a minivan into the middle of town, a few miles away (the fare was 65 cents). Chris and Jay disembarked at their tour company, having already booked a jungle tour with them while in La Paz. I had wanted to have a look around town at the various companies, to see what looked the best for a pampas tour (which allows you to see more animals and generally be bitten by fewer bugs, in comparison with a jungle tour). I also figured it would be marginally cheaper this way.

In terms of its layout and the style of the buildings, Rurre reminded me of a slightly dustier version of Puerto Ayora in the Galapagos. Of course, it lacks a beautiful ocean view, but it does sit on the edge of the Beni River, which is not unimpressive itself. Palm trees line the streets, and many restaurants, hostels, tour companies and shops are clustered along the several blocks closest to the river. Like Puerto Ayora, Rurre appeared to have more amenities than I would have expected. Yes, it does take 16 hours to three days to drive the 186 miles south to La Paz, but it nevertheless has its share of creature comforts to be found.

I checked into Hostal Beni, which impressed me far more than I thought it would. My $6 room had a double bed, a powerful ceiling fan, a large and clean bathroom with hot shower and a TV with two (!!!) working channels (National Geographic in Spanish and some other network that was carrying the Bolivian equivalent of "Judge Judy" when I turned it on). I changed clothes and went for lunch. A small restaurant on the river served up a steak with fries, rice and salad for just over $2. I noticed a spa/sauna/gym across the road and went over to inspect it after my meal, but it was closed. Eager for an activity, I wandered down to where my Lonely Planet map indicated there was a swimming pool. It was enormous and clean and well-built: any hotel in the US would be proud to have it on premises. I decided to change and come back. On the way I stopped at various Mom & Pop shops to pick up some things I needed at bargain prices: a large beach towl ($2.50), a pair of flip-flops (0.75), a new pair of swimming trunks ($2.50), a large bottle of OFF! bug-spray ($2.00) and a new pair of sunglasses ($2.50).

I spent the next few hours as one of eight people in the pool complex. A young boy with a beautiful tucan in his hands let me in and charged me my admission ($2.50 for as long as you want each day). A British couple sat on the edge and read while five young Bolivian guys (late teens, probably from La Paz because they were definitely not local) splashed around and tried to drown one another. Generously, they did it on the other side of the pool, leaving me free to laze around while intermittently reading The Picture of Dorain Gray (the good thing about being forced to get your books from book exchanges at various hostels is that you are forced to read the books you never did read even though you were supposed to have; for every 20 books on hand, 15 will generally be Stephen King-type thrillers or bad spy-novels, 4 will be romance novels and 1 will be a classic or, if you´re really lucky, a current book that qualifies as "literature"). Meanwhile, a greatest hits of David Bowie CD blared over the soundsystem. A parrot sat in a tree overhead while a large (2-3 foot) exotic bird traipsed about the lawn and made shrill, obscene, screetching noises.

After my swim, I wandered around town and looked into tours of the pampas with various agencies. None of the agencies had tours lined up for the next day and none of them could book a tour for just one person (and how boring would that be, anyway?). I told them all that I could come back the next day, as I was not in any particular rush. Unfortunately, the two agencies I liked the most were also the most expensive, at $55 and $40 per day (all meals, accomodation and incidentals included). The cheapest agency, at $15 per day, had the rudest representative, who seemed too bored by his job to want to provide any real information about the tour. The operator of the $55 per day ecotourism lodge, however, talked my head off about all of the things I might see, how great the lodge was and how we would take trips into various indigenous villages (100% of all of the profits the lodge made went back to these communities, of which he was a part). In the end, I couldn`t arrange anything, but this didn`t concern me much because Rurrenabaque seemed to have numerous trails around it and other diversions (pool, gym, cafes) to keep me occupied happily for a day or two.

Since I had been up at 5 AM the last two days running, I took a quick siesta in the late afternoon. I got up, showered, applied a tremendous amount of OFF! and changed into the one light, long-sleeved shirt I had brought (from Barney´s NY of all places). I then headed out to the reputed best restaurant in Rurrenabaque, a place called "La Perla de Rurre."

La Perla was in a stylish open courtyard with several trees and numerous flowers spread throughout it. The light was dim, but sufficient for reading, and light Spanish opera music played in the background. It had a European feel to it and, after the waitress seated me and handed me a menu, an old man in a white button-down shirt confidently strode over and introduced himself. He had very fair skin and, judging from the pictures of Madrid on one of the walls, I guessed he was Spanish (had the picture not been there, I might have guessed he was Italian).

"Do you want meat, fish or chicken for an entree?" he asked.

"Meat or fish," I said.

"Tell me what you prefer and I will tell you what is best," he told me.

Sometimes I hate when people do this and sometimes I like it. It all depends on the delivery --- on how sure the person seems of himself. This guy seemed 100% positive that I would LOVE whatever he picked.

"Fish."

"Do you like garlic? You have to have the fish with garlic."

"I´ll have it." I had a feeling this would be one of the best meals of the trip so far.

It was --- and dollar for dollar the best. A large fillet wrapped in foil came with rice, fries and salad for $2.50, although my 17 ounce beer, 2 liter bottle of water and tip pushed the total to nearly $3.75. The old man nodded after I took my first bite. I told you so.

I then headed for an internet cafe to type, among other things, this entry. Here is the link to the cafe (which has some pictures of Rurre, not all of them that great) for anybody who is curious: http://rurrenabaque.tripod.com/