Bonito: Where Fish Swim, and Dogs Die

Bonito is best known for being the gateway to the Pantanol; a semitropical paradise where rainbow- colored fish swim in freshwater rivers as clear as Jimminy Cricket's conscience; where toucans fly freely (and plentifully) from palm tree to papaya tree; where tourists take refuge from their pack mule existence in shaded hammocks around refreshing swimming pools. However, this heavenly retreat had something else in store for us.

We spent our first day lounging around the cheapest accommodation we could find, our first legitimate HI (Hostel International) hostel. For those of you who don't know, HI hostels are often the "most luxorious" hostels in town, and are filled with boozehound English- speakers who remind you of why you did  (or didn't)  hang out with the fraternity crowd in college.

The next day we rode bikes 4 miles out of town through the less-than-pleasant heat to arrive at a much appreciated oasis, Balneiro Municipal, on the beautiful, crystal clear Rio da Prata. Over 12 feet deep in some sections, you can see the bottom of the river (and the over-abundance of fish) from wherever you stand, and we rented snorkels and spent the day enjoying the cool refreshing water, swimming amongst over 30 varieties of brightly colored fish. Best of all, we were amongst the only people there, many of the said frat- boys apparently opting for the more expensive organized tour to other parts of the river.

Without much warning (which seems to always be the case in life), this Jimmy Buffet Cheeseburger- in -Paradise- promise land then suddenly warped into a disfigured paradise more akin to the Island of Dr. Moreau. The rainbow-fish transformed into images reminiscent of Jaws and flesh- eating pirahnas. The colorful toucans bastardized into Hitchcock's birds or Poe's raven  tormenting all things around them, wishing death and suffering upon us. The picturesque rainforest turned into the dark, haunted forests of Sleepy Hallow, the Grim Reaper searching for his next victim.  The obnoxious, shallow fraternity boys... well, they remained obnoxious, shallow fraternity boys. After a quick call home, my world turned black. My dog had died.
The power of denial shines through with dogs. Though we know otherwise in our heads, our hearts embrace them as members of family, with life spans equal to ours. Cheyenne was a special part of our family, a unique individual who our lives will always shine a bit brighter because of; a special being who our hearts will ache for in rememberance.    
I spent the next several days with swollen eyes locked away in our room, dealing with the shock of losing something I love, readjusting to a world without my buddy. Dickers bought several candles, which we burned as a memorial. With a deep sense of loss, we boarded the bus, in search of happier times in Bolivia.


Upon crossing the border, we were greeted by the small border town of Puerto Quijarro.  In it's own right, Puerto Quijarro is a bit of a depressing place. Sharing a border with Brazil but with a currency about four times as weak, Bolivian women deal with their prices being exploitated by working harder, trying to make ends meet by selling Brazilians goods their own families never have a prayer of being able to afford. The Bolivian men here seem  to opt to take a different approach, getting piss drunk throughout the day on cheap alcohol and stumbling in the steets until they pass out on the sidewalk in the 100 degree heat. Most of the general populace doesn't seem to have much of a liking to gringos (not to say I blame them). Buying water or produce required patience, sometimes waiting ten minutes at the counter despite being the only customers and the cashier having little else to occupy them but ignoring us.

We, however, managed to find a slice of paradise in this rather grim town: Jodanga Hostel. The right remedy for feeling low. Located directly above the river that lies between Brazil and Bolivia, the immaculate hostel was more like a resort than a backpackers accomodation. A lap-sized swimming pool overlooked the beautiful river,  surrounded with straw quinchos (tropical stand-alone porches) and hammocks to relax in. We opted for a 24 bed dorm, of which we shared with no one our entire stay. We took a week relaxing by the pool, enjoying the tranquil and breathtaking scenery, letting the grief ease and the pain to subside, just long enough for the world to become beautiful again. A reminder to me in my life: love those you care about to your fullest degree, shower them with praise (or pets), hold them tight and let them know how much you care. Nothing lasts forever.



To my family and friends who have read on despite my sentimentality (and those who have not), I hope my brief absence has not made you forget: I LOVE YOU! Each and every one.