We arrived in this little town clean as a whistle and wrapped in warm clothes which had been necessary just an hour before, as protection against the bitter cold at TAM's (Transport Aero-Militario) El Alto airport. The flight in held a number of firsts for me. My first time on a militarty vehicle. My first time on a propeller plane. And last, but not least, my first time landing in a dirt landing field.

The 36-passenger twin-engine plane took off from El Alto airport at an elevation of approximately 14,000 feet, went up less than another 5,000 feet, and after passing a couple of mountain crests, began its lazy descent nearly to sea level, spiraling down slowly over steep mountains and wide lush jungle valleys. We could see the Rio Beni and several tributaries winding through the trees, and while there were definitely spots which had been cleared of vegitation, I was amazed at how truly wild it looked, overall.

When we arrived at Rurre Airport, we arrived to the friendly faces of other visitors who were waiting to take our plane back to La Paz. These people joked with us that we were overdressed, and that we didn't appear to be nursing any mosquito bites--yet. As we were to find out, it did not take long for that to change.

The town of Rurrenabaque (affectionately known by many as Rurre) is a charming little town about six blocks long and five blocks wide. It's the consummate jungle town, on the banks of the Rio Beni, and at the foot of a mountain range which I believe to be an extension of the Peruvian Andes. Half the streets are paved and half are not, and all of them are abuzz with the sound of motor scooter taxis, carrying everyone: from tired, dusty tourists to to elegant elderly ladies who sit side-sadlle to protect their dignity and carry umbrellas to protect their skin from the ravages of the jungle sun.

"Jungle time" is of the essence here, and is strictly adhered to, if "strictly" is the right word. If you ask three people when a particular office is open, you'll get three different answers, all of which may be wrong on a given day. And once a business is open, there is no guarantee it will stay so; when the sun is high in the sky, many doors are closed, and the people running the shops are outside relaxing in the shade.

For 15 bolivianos, one can relax at the town's one swimming pool. It's clean and well maintained, but because 15B is a lot of money locally (approximately US$2.00 at the time, but enough to buy a really nice entree at a restaurant), it's mostly tourists visiting the place. The only locals there during our visit were the people running it, and a wide variety of colorful birds who seem to have taken a shine to the environment. One bird (of a pair) in particular seemed to have grown quite accustomed to tourists, and we watched as it attacked one woman's bag for her crackers, while another more experienced visitor consoled her, saying, "Yeah, that's the bad one!"

You can get pretty much everything you need here in Rurre. Even though it's not easy to get to--only via TAM, Amazonia Air's 12-seater or a bus on the most dangerous road in the world--its proximity the jungle and pampas (swamp) ecosystems make it a tourist destination and a thriving little economy. There are restaurants of all types, convenience/food stores, clothiers, sundries and even a pharmacy. In fact, so much of the economy is tourism based that some years ago, they did a tongue-in-cheeck "Dia de Los Touristos" ("tourist's day") celebration which has since transcended satire and become an annual event.

Mornings are a bustling time on the main roads, with small groups of tourists getting ready for their trips into the wilderness. Nervously watching that their bags are properly stowed atop the proper vehicle, they exchange how-are-yous--and more importantly, who-are-yous--with the people who are going to share their journeys. Names, nationalities, occupations and travel stories are exchanged up and down the street as people climb into their vehicles, slam their doors and roll off into the dusty distance. As the dust settles on the road, so again does the former quiet, interrupted regularly by the squacking of birds and the buzz of the moped taxis.

As of the night before our pampas trip, it lookied like it was just going to be us and onother couple, Hazel and Liam from Ireland. When we came to the office for departure, though, another fellow, a Swiss guy named Roger, had just arrived via bus from Coroica that morning. Prior to that, he had come from La Paz on mountain bike via the "road of dath". Apologizing for the fact that his busy travel schedule hadn't permitted him time to shower or do laundry, he hopped into the front seat as Liam and Hazel hopped into the rear cab and R and I took the back seat bench.

The driver took us about two blocks and stopped in front of a house where a woman and an adorable 3-year-old girl came out and hopped in with me and R. They apparently needed to get to the port of Santa Rosa, and in this economy, it seems that everyone makes do with what's available. Car full of tourists going my way? Empty seat? Let's fill it! I thought it was pretty cool, although it was a surprize at first because that sort of thing would not be likely to happen on a professional tour in the states.

The ride out to SR was long, dusty and bumpy. And at the start, it was a little spooky as well, as there were pairs of armed soldiers at opposing sides of the road every 50 meters or so. Roger's command of Spanish was the best of the tourists, so he asked the driver why there were so many soldiers, and the driver pulled over and asked one of them. It turns out that the American ambassador to Bolivia was coming into town for the weekend. As we passed the air field, lo and behold, there was indeed a huge US government transport sitting there next to Amazonia's Cessna.

The drive out must be exhausting for the drivers, who are constantly truing to find the best route on a road which only offers bumpy, slippery and undrivable as options. Along the ride, the driver pointed out a couple of gators and a clutch of capybara, and we also saw lots of birds, including some carrion-eaters eating a dead capybara.

At the port of Santa Rosa, we met our guide, Einar. He was a young, energetic guy who appeared to love his job, and his really good at it. Along the boat ride to camp, he spotted gators, monkeys (squirrel and howler), a capybara, thousands of birds, a couple of pink river dolphins and turtles for us.

Next update soon! Come back soon to read about our run-in with a swarm of killer bees!!!