With our very expensive 2-day ecolodge stay we were able to customize our trip. We figured a day's excursion to the jungle was a good way to get a little taste without committing to the more common 3-day journey most agencies in Rurre offer.

We started early, with breakfast at 7:30. Wilman and Mario disapproved of our lack of boots—we had so been looking forward to shedding our winter gear after Torotoro that we opted to leave our boots at Hotel Oriental. After some digging around the office Mario produced boots in our sizes, but then realized we were also sin socks. Ru-roh.

So first, we headed to the shores of the community. To my delight, Wilman and Mario leapt off the boat wielding machetes, bounding up the steep hill with long strides to hunt down the elusive medias from deep within the village.

The best part of the trip was the long, soothing ride by motorized canoe up the Rio Beni. One of the reasons we had been unsure of taking a pampas trip is because this was dry season; the wetlands were rumored to be difficult to navigate and low on animals. We witnessed a bit of the dryness along the ride—Wilman stood at the canoe's bow, using a long pole to push us off whenever the canoe scraped along the bottom. Other than the occasional bumps, it was a refreshing and relaxing ride.

Once we actually entered the jungle, the day was basically over for me. Instantly I felt sick—dizzy, overheated, shaky on my feet. If there truly was such a thing as jungle fever, I had it and had it bad.


Hemmy seemed mostly unaffected, except for the gallons of sweat. Wow, it was hot. Maybe it was just my physical discomfort, but I was also somewhat disappointed. Perhaps the much-ballyhooed dense lushness was missing during dry season, but other than a massive increase in buglife I didn't see a huge difference from the beautiful forests of Costa Rica. For some reason, I'd been expecting spectacular contrast.


After a steep, unsteady hike—made intolerable with the sweltering heat and my new conviction I'd contracted malaria—we reached the top of a cliff where we could spot gorgeous red and blue macaws soaring out of their nests. I quivered the whole time, not knowing the cause and really sorta freaked out by it.

Main highlight completed, I begged to return home. Wilman laughed derisively that we'd only been there a few hours, but I was shameless—I was exhausted and needed quality hammock time.

Back on the canoe, I ate an apple, drank a liter of water, then curled up on the bottom of the wooden boat, whimpering whenever the sun hit my face, and passed out until we pulled up at the ecolodge. I didn't truly recover until the next morning.

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