Sorry for the delay – trying to wrap up a school year, take a sub-par Master’s class (offered by my school through the prestigious Buffalo State University – not sure why in the world I signed up for it), and take care of an exigent chocolate lab tends to suck time out of a day. But I am back, and the lab is outside crying to get back in.
Well, my friends, where were we? Ahh..yes, so I was relaxing in my hammock, defeated in my efforts to find Josh and Jen, but content to wait for them in their last known whereabouts…
At last, they appeared. However, Josh was a bit disappointed because he wagered with Jen that they would hear my laugh before actually seeing me – not sure if that’s a good thing, for the mind tends to immediately jump to the conclusion that one possesses nothing short of a hyena laugh. It was strange, as if I was in a sleep, and waking up to think, “Oh, Josh and Jen are here, right where I left them.” The fact that we were meeting each other, a year and a half since our last reunion, in the middle of the Bolivian jungle, did not appear to be odd to any of us. Perhaps that’s a sign of a good friendship.
After introducing Pat, we went shopping (Pat needed a long sleeved shirt for the river trip – which I am not sure we REALLY needed, but he was very pleased with his 20 B purchase). The real finds, however, were a pair of leather product (because I’m not quite sure what they are actually made of) cowboy hats that Josh and I made our trip hats.
After an afternoon of catching up around Rurre, trying to cash in our free “Welcome Drinks” at the Moskkito Bar and being told that they weren’t good until 7 (how welcoming!), playing another embarrassing game of pool while sipping Huari in the humid afternoon air, we went back (for the third time) to Casa del Campo. We had to introduce our friends to family. So, in a grandmotherly way, the owner welcomed Josh and Jen, told them how proud she was of me and Pat, how she hopes that we’d hurry up and get married, and other such grandmotherly banter. We dined on more ginger honey Dorado and a jug of jugo de maracuya y otras frutas. (sounds a lot fancier when you write it in Spanish!)
After dinner, we returned to the Moskkito Bar, where we found it packed with tourists either about to embark on (relatively clean, for backpackers) or just returned from (fly swarmingly dirty) the jungle. Both groups were enjoying the libations. Not a whole lot to be said other than the Moskkito Bar is to Rurrenebaque what Jim & Nick’s BBQ is to Atlanta. If you go, you won’t have a bad time, but surely there are much better options if you look past the neon lights. Drinks were weak and overpriced, but when you spent what we spent just to get to Rurre, you can’t wax stingy.
In homage to the first night’s success, we retired to Luna Lounge for another game of pool (we really aren’t billiard players, there were just that few things to do in Rurrenebaque besides drink your face off), had a few more Huari, and called it a night. We had to be on the boat at 8 am to head to Chalalan. It was good to be with friends.