Gunilla arrived at Hotel Oriental at 9AM sharp (after all, she's not Bolivian) with a wheelbarrow for our bags. We headed down to the river, where Oscar and Juliano from the Butterfly Pub helped us into the canoe and pushed us off-shore.

The canoe ride was our first chance to feel refreshed in sticky Rurrenabaque. Quite obviously handmade, the canoe was long enough for 8-9 people, roughly-carved, holes patched with what appeared to be electrical tape, with a motor slapped onto the back. From the cool shade of the canopy we watched the jungle greenery fly by.

Juliano became involved in the San Miguel del Bala project 4 months prior. As a chef with extensive training, Juliano contributed by teaching the women of the community his techniques and recipes, adding value to the pricey eco-lodge experience.

At the lodge we met our guide Wilman and the manager Mario. Mario lived at the ecolodge full-time while his family lived in the community; the cooking and cleaning staff traveled daily from the community. We basically had the delightful place to ourselves.

The "casa grande," a spacious building constructed by the community using local materials, was the main place to relax (and a more reasonable hike up than our cabaña). Extremely comfortable hammocks faced the river, frequently luring us to sleep. Information about the Tacana Indians was displayed in English, Tacana and Spanish. The casa featured books about the jungle wildlife and local people, examples of traditional hunting weapons, and glass cases of pinned butterflies.

Oscar casually described the cabañas as "up" from the river. It was much further than I expected, reminiscent of climbing monastery steps. The roasting heat did not make the ascent easier.

The cabaña was really lovely, also built ground-up by members of the community. The walls were made of reeds, the floor of the bathroom assembled from river-smoothed rocks, and the vaulted ceiling gave a great sense of space. Mosquito nets were provided and the twin mattresses quite comfortable. The aforementioned bathroom was completely modern. A few steps from the cabaña was a view of the river far below. Animal sounds surrounded us at all times, even more intensely at night. The lovely lodgings provided a true sense of the wilderness, with a welcome touch of comfort.

The climb to the cabaña was worse after dinner, with lanterns providing only a small radius of light. After struggling up the steps with Wilman's ghost stories in my ears, it turned out we'd locked the keys in the cabaña. We sat on the porch swatting bugs (too wussy to leave the lights off) while Wilman searched for Mario. No luck. On return, he peered through windows until he spotted the keys on the extra bed. MacGyver-style, Wilman threaded a branch under the window screen, pushed the keys off the bed and slid them under the door. The natural, rustic construction came in handy.

An hour later as we were ready for bed, Mario finally appeared with the extra keys. Viva Bolivia!

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