In true Bolivian fashion, the flight to Rurrenabaque boards 20 minutes late, without explanation. A mostly gringo crowd anxiously walks across the tarmac to our miniscule 2 propeller plane, and though there is no overhead compartment and no room to stand up straight, on the plus side, every seat has both a window and an aisle. There are no flight attendants, no safety talk, just two illuminated signs, one saying 'no smoking,' and the other, 'fasten seatbelts.' So much for the complimentary peanuts. I am seated in 1A at the very front, and can see directly into the door-less cockpit. I can hear every beep, see every flashing light (all of which seem to signal imminent death) from take-off to landing. The pilots fire up the propellers within seconds of closing the hatch, and we are
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