Us dressed to go down the Potosi mines
Monday, July 2nd, 2007
Do we look prepared or petrified?!
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The day my body decided to leave me
Sunday, June 24th, 200719th June 2007
Today, I started at 9:00 by introducing 96% proof alcohol to my body. I followed this by forcing it down a hot, narrow mine shaft at an altitude of over 4600 meters. I ended the day with a face full of tear gas. My body has now decided that it has had enough and we are taking a break to think about what we mean to each other, apparently I don’t show it enough respect.
Let me explain….. Potosi, was once one of the worlds largest cities, bigger than London and New York in the time of the Spanish conquest. This is due to the Cerro Ricco, a huge hill overlooking the city where gold, silver and other minerals were mined to make the Spanish very rich. These mines are still worked today, now as a co-operative, and of course as a tourist attraction. The conditions are hot, narrow and dangerous, prone to cave-ins and toxic gasses (Mum, this is why I didn’t tell you before I went!). Nevertheless, dozens of tourists go to visit each day and whilst tolerated, this is very much disliked by the miners themselves.
Anyway, the day starts at 9:00am when you are taken to get suited and booted wit the relevant safety gear. Dressed head to toe in this ridiculous stuff you then make your way together with about two dozen others to the miners market where you stick out like a sore thumb, look ridiculous and get glared at by the locals. Anyway, whilst there the different dynamites, fuses etc are all explained to you and how to can buy them, all in one plastic bag for 1.20GBP. This is also where we tried the 96% proof alcohol that the miners drink on a Friday, talk about drinking to forget! We were encouraged to buy these things, together with Coca leaves and soft drinks to take to the miners as gifts, which we duly did, especially the dynamite!
The it was off to the mine, with a brief stop at the mineral processing plant, just to make sure we realized how dangerous that was too. At the mine head, greeted coldly by the miners, we waited for some trucks to come at full speed out of the mine before lamps on and heading down the first 300m to the underground museum. I have to admit that I was already in tears of fear at this point and this was as far as I went and after 5 minutes in the museum was escorted out (along with Tucky, only to escort me f course, he wasn’t scared!) to wait for the others. They emerged, two hours later, dusty and sweaty but satisfied. It sounded small and horrible and I’m glad I didn’t try and put myself through it but once again I envied there sense of achievement, I am starting to become concerned that I am one of life’s “not quite finishers”?!
Anyway, after the mines it was de-booting and quickly back to the hostel and a dash to the bus station for the three hour bus to Sucre. Know, I know this is a recurring theme and that really I should be getting used to it by now, but that had to be the longest and smelliest three hours ever!! It was freezing but there was no way I was closing my window. Now, unfortunately, this proved to be mistake, because as we pulled into Sucre and drove through the city centre we were met by riot police, fires on every corner, fire crackers going off everywhere and a face full of tear gas through the window. I have never felt anything like it, my eyes were streaming and my mouth, nose and throat were on fire. Luckily, it wasn’t too much and the effects wore off after half an hour but it was truly terrifying.
We got off the bus and really scared decided to risk a taxi back to the centre to get to our hostel. Once again we drove through the riot and had to ask the taxi driver to close the windows. However, no one else seemed to be panicking and there were children in the streets so we tried to calm down. The driver explained that it was students rioting against the government but we missed the finer points of the reason. He also warned us to be careful as it was common in Sucre to have bags stolen, although he might also have been warning us he was going to steal them, I wasn’t sure at the time!
We arrived at the hostel unscathed but still shaken, and it was here that we encountered our first scam in South America. An ununiformed guard at the door to the hostel asked to see our ID, understandable I guess on a chaotic night like this and he also checked the local guys who came in behind us. Handing us pack our passports, he informed us that we had to go to the customs office, not sure why and we didn’t get a proper answer, but we started to follow, together with the local guy, on foot. Just around the corner an unmarked car pulled up and the “guard” suggested we take it to customs office as it would be quicker and in hopped the local guy urging us to follow. But we’re not as green as we are cabbage looking and argued that we would walk instead, the guard shrugged, got into the car himself and as soon as the turned the corner (and thank god for one way grip systems) we legged it back to the hostel and checked in without hassle. Neither of us felt like going out again that night so with slightly rumbly tummies we crashed at the hostel and spent a few hours convincing ourselves that no, we hadn’t just run from that law and that it probably was a scam, and then “oh how clever we were to avoid it!”
This was to set the tone for the next four days adventures in Sucre.
The day I got high (but don’t panic Mum!)
Sunday, June 24th, 2007
After a night of feeling pretty crappy again in Uyuni, we risked the five hour bus journey to Potosi the next morning at 10:00am. As it happenned the journey was beutiful, albeit cramped and smelly on a Bolivian local bus ... [Continue reading this entry]
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