My frequent complaint in restaurants is that I'd prefer less food for less money, rather than gargantuan portions meant to justify prices. The same principle applied at San Miguel del Bala—the rate of $60/night was validated by overfeeding us. I'd rather pay $50/night for less food, but it was hard to complain because the money benefited the community.

The food was quite good thanks to Juliano. We had fresh juice and homemade breads. Each meal started with soup or an appetizer, and dessert followed the giant entrées.

Juliano supervised our first lunch, which was spectacular—a sizzling appetizer of baked eggplant parmigiana and a massive fillet of scrumptious local fish and steamed veggies. Bolivian food tends to be overly salty but Juliano kept it in check. After he returned to Rurre, subsequent meal were not quite up to the standard he set.

For dinner we had the traditional Bolivian kitchen-sink soup, but a good rendition. The entrée was slightly dry but wonderfully-flavored chicken breast with a mound of heart-stoppingly delicious mashed potatoes—it tasted like an entire stick of butter was in each portion. Wilman, who only recently learned to enjoy this type of food, joined us for meals. After dinner he told us stories of ghosts in the woods and his adventures from working as a jungle guide for other agencies in Rurrenabaque. His tale of spotting a jaguar's eyes during a night hike unnerved me when climbing back to the cabaña in the dark.

Breakfast was a weak omelet. There seemed to be a misunderstanding along the lines of the weird ice cream. The egg was crepe-thin and the flavors of the veggies and cheese did not meld. Disappointing, but the banana bread served with it was incredible.

When I returned from the jungle feeling ill, I also felt guilty knowing I'd be eating less than usual. Our sweet cook Anna had chosen this day to make an enormous lasagna, which wasn't quite to my liking. I managed about half my portion but was gratified to see some additional members of the community were sharing the meal that day.

We soon discovered why. It was Hemmy's birthday, and with a big grin Mario told her he needed to know her age because Anna was making something special. It turned out to be a BEAUTIFUL torta with 30 slices of tart apples adorning the top.

The people from the community—including Wilman's son Joahn with megawatt smile—gathered and burst into song. Wilman nonchalantly announced the tradition of shoving the birthday person's face into the cake. As Hemmy laughed in disbelief he quickly made his move. Much merriment ensued as she emerged.

Now this was a dessert Bolivians understood. No need to mess about with ice cream when there's layer cake soaked in sugar and milk, laced with cinnamon and slathered with meringue and apples. Days later in Tupiza, the man burning Hemmy's photos onto another CD couldn't stop staring at the torta. Yeah, it was that good.

Birthday fun at the ecolodge! An unsuspecting Hemmy's face is shoved into birthday torta.

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