I am rich Potosi
The treasure of the world
And the envy of kings
(city's first coat of arms)

Potosi is an insanely beautiful city, to the point where it nearly becomes ridiculous. You literally can't turn a corner without stumbling over another beautiful baroque church, or to see the hills surrounding the town in all their colours. Potosi used to be the richest city in South-America, due to the discovery of silver in its mountains (the Cerro Rico especially), at the end of the 18th century. Of course, the riches were all owned by the Spanish, and Bolivia hasn't benefited much from them.

The only way to get a feel for Potosi is to put the guidebook away and get lost in its streets, which is very easy to do as there are hardly any street signs. At the same time as being insanely beautiful, it's also insanely hectic. Bolivian driving is on a par with the Argentinians, and even the omnipresent traffic police can't change that. Especially the micros (minibuses) will rather honk their horn than slow down and you better jump out of the way, pronto!

The sidewalks are packed with cholas carrying bundles of everything in a colourful scarf on their back, plus ladies carrying the contents of said scarf on said sidewalk. But you can't step out into the street for the reasons explained above. It's pretty much mayhem.

In the morning, I got some money out and went to the bank, guarded by a police officer with a big automatic gun. I know it's supposed to make you feel safe, but on me it has the opposite effect. Inside, there was a big TV where The Cure were playing 'Friday I'm in love'. (PS this money will feature again in the next episode, cliffhanger!)

I walked around the Plaza 10 de Noviembre (date when Potosi was founded) with its beautiful cathedral and the Plaza 6 de Agosto (date when Bolivia became independent). I then took the pedestrian Calle Quijano, passing the Iglesia de San Agustin, admiring all the colonial buildings, which have wooden balconies and are painted in beatiful colours.

I felt a bit selfconscious about taking photos, even though I was clearly aiming at the buildings, not the people (who may not like having their photo taken). Mainly because I hadn't seen any other tourists, I was the only one snapping away. But I figured I stood out so much already, and people stared anyway, so the photos wouldn't make much difference.

I walked past the Esquina de las Cuatro Portadas and ended up at the market, where veggies, pimientos (spices) and meat was for sale. I walked through it, ending up at another church, Iglesia de San Lorenzo de Carangas. I walked through the minimarket, selling nylons, futbol shirts and watches, and ended up at the Plaza del Estudiante, with the Iglesia de San Bernardo on one end and the Iglesia Jerusalen on the other. You do wonder why the Spanish needed that many churches.

I was getting hungry so I bought a few salteñas (juicy meat or vegetable pasty originally from Salta, Argentina) from a busy street stall and they were fingerlicking yummie, if a bit messy to eat.

The Torre de la Compañia de Jesus used to be, you've guessed it, a church, but is now a tourist office. I walked passed the red Museo and Convento de Santa Teresa, where the nuns lead a very sheltered existence, and passed the Iglesia de Santa Domingo, which has a beautiful bell tower with six bells. Behind it are cobbled streets with more colonial buildings.

I went to sit down in the main plaza to try and digest so much beauty, only to be confronted with the other side of the story: shoeshine boys, not even eight years old, trying to make a living, and beggars. I gave one of them way too much, 2 bolivianos, I could tell by the way he shuffled away quickly that he thought I was going to see my 'mistake' and ask the money back...

I admit Bolivia is overwhelming at first, but it's so spectacular and amazing, I just love being here and wandering around. It started raining and getting chilly, so I dived into Cherry's Salon de Te, where Cherry, I presume, has a very leisurely pace and very nice jugos. I had an omelet with veggies and surprisingly good chips. Bolivia also does great mayonaise by the way, the best so far.

Afterwards I went to use the internet, as I have a lot of catching up to do, and had to listen to Britney for a whole hour. Not only that, they were the same three songs over and over again. I then went into the Cathedral, where you get a complusory guided tour. Guide Dulfredo asked my name and when I told him, started humming away. Which means I will have to buy that bloody Julio Iglesias cd just so that I know what everyone in South America is talking about.

He showed me around the saints, angels, apostles and different Marias and Jesuses (if that doesn't sound too blasphemous, but they did blend into each other a bit). There was one saint in a black indigenous version for the locals, and a white one for the Spanish, which I thought was quite cute. He also showed me Saint Rita, the saint to pray to if you want to get the impossible done. In Quechua, padre, father, ie what you would call a priest, is Tata, which sounds a lot less formal.

We walked up to where the organ was, but he said it wasn't in use because no one knew how to play it. Further up to the bell tower, no mean feat at this altitude, I had to catch my breath. The views were breath-taking too, of the Cerro Rico, and of all the church towers sticking up out of the sea of red roof tiles. I nearly forgot to take photos, it was so amazing I was just staring.

Dulfredo told me most of Potosi is catholic, although the miners maintain their own superstitions and beliefs. In the LP I read that they have an image of the devil, who they figure must be around there somewhere in the depths of the earth, in the mines and they offer him gifts, never calling him Diablo, always Tio (uncle). They need to apease him because they are taking his riches out of the mines.

I could visit them, the mines that is, but I am a bit chicken, It's pretty harsh and I admit I'm a bit scared after all the horror stories. I really can't bring myself to go into a dark tunnel where it's 40 degrees and where you are exposed to toxic fumes... Call me a wimp but there you go.