21 July – Got up, a couple saw my All Blacks top, and asked if I knew the result of that mornings NZ vs Aus test. Nope, but gave them my knowledge of usual replay times on Latin America ESPN+. Checked out, then found internet cafe, and discovered the replay was actually 8pm that night. Went back to hostel, but didn’t see them. If they’re kiwis, they´ll probably look it up themselves. If aussies, I guess they won’t think of it. Anyway, went to central market, and got myself another breakfast of saltenas and grapefruit juice. Then, waited for minibus to bus station. None arrives, I eventually ask somebody. Next block over, apparently. Go there, wait again. Nada. Walk to bus station, getting a little lost along the way. But, get there, and book next ticket to Potosi. I know the fare is 15Bs, but she doesn’t write the price on my ticket, and accepts my 20 note without a hint of giving change. Less than 1 NZ$, I decide to forget about it. Go down to platforms, and have to pay a 2Bs tax. Odd, but legitimate. Watch as teenage boy ties luggage onto roof, including tables, chairs, all sorts. Then, give my pack to chap to stow in actual luggage section under bus. Get onboard, and as bus leaves, listen to yet another hawker give her spiel on what she’s selling. Not sure what it is, some kind of sachet. Army chap gets on and sits next to me, then gets off in the middle of nowhere. Little girl moves from her seat further back to come and sit next to me. Asks why my skin is white, and chats about other things. Falls asleep with her head on my shoulder, which ends up preventing me taking a photo of the ridiculous amount of litter (plastic bags) covering the hillsides and valley just before Potosi. One tall chicken-netting fence could be mistaken as being a solid fence, except for the multi-coloured paint rustling in the wind, giving away that it is actually just covered in plastic bags. Get to Potosi, and get off bus. Start walking, and a local yells out “Hey!”. I turn around, preparing to tell him I don’t need a taxi. But, instead of offering taxi, he just shows me one finger. And he wasn’t giving directions. Angry, angry man – and I figure it’s better to ignore. Keep walking towards centre of town. After quite some time, a ute pulls over, and asks where I’m heading. “Centro”. “Centro is the other direction, you’re heading towards Oruro.” Oruro is a town a long way away. So, I turn around, and get the first taxi I see. 3.50 Bs – just over 50 NZ cents. Sweet. Get him to drop me off at the central square, then walk around looking for a hostel. First place, wants to charge me in US$. Bad sign – plus, the price would have been good in Bolivianos. Not in seppo money. Keep walking around, go to a place called The Koala Den. Hoping that this mornings result will be favorable for me, not the australian (I assume) owners. But, after half an hour at reception, nobody wants to take my money. So, use their Lonely Planet to research some more places, then keep walking. Next couple of places are booked out, then finally discover a place willing to put me up. Thankfully drop off my stuff, then prepare to walk back into town.
(Did I mention that Potosi is the highest city IN THE WORLD!? And that it is rather hilly? (Not steep hills generally, but with the high altitude, rather tiring to walk around.)
Anyway, walk around a little bit, trying to get my bearings. I fail – my initial mistake of heading in the wrong direction stays with me, and my sense of direction is completely screwed for the rest of my time in Potosi. Highest city in the world. Go back to hostel, and have a siesta. Then, get up, and ask guy at hostel where in town is likely to have a TV with sports on it – specifically ESPN+. He seems surprised, and says everywhere. Sweet. Off I go, looking forward to food, cerveza, & rugby. A dozen restaurants and bars later, finally find a place with a television. They reckon they have ESPN. Flick it over for me – but it is only ESPN they have, not ESPN+. Continue, and many more failures. Another place, with an english speaker, assures me they have EPSN+. However, currently a large drunk guy is watching the PanAmerican games – but is willing to switch over about 8 or 8:30. Sweet – order food and cerveza. Watch womans beach volleyball, then some kind of japanese wrestling – possibly sumo for skinny people. Eventually, switch channels. And they don´t have ESPN+. Dumb. Have some more cerveza, then back to hostel for some sleep.
22 July – walk down to tourist agencies, and book a trip to the silver mine. Sunday, most other touristy places are closed – so do not much. Have breakfast, find a spot with a good view of the mountain (at one time the richest source of silver IN THE WORLD!), then catch a taxi to a tower on a hill. Get there, go up – decent view of the city and the mountain. Mountain is a mix of red and orange – would be scenic if you didn’t know that it´s not naturally that colour, but is so because of all the mining. Turns out to be a little cafe type thing in the top of the tower – so I buy a cerveza and sit down. As it nears lunchtime, and more people arrive, my fears are realised. It’s a revolving restaurant. I wasn’t too keen on the standard of the structure beforehand, but once it starts moving – my worries increase. Still, haven’t finished the cerveza, so can’t run away scared. Eventually finish, and descend to ground. Was hoping that my relatively expensive taxi here was so because it was a return trip. No such luck. Walk down hill, then try to flag down a taxi to avoid the rather steep long walk uphill to the centre. Taxis ignore me – so I walk. Up lots of stairs. In the highest city IN THE WORLD! Very tiring, but persevere. And get lost. I have a map, but in my entire time in Potosi, I only ever saw one sign telling one what street you were on. Eventually I stumble across a restaurant which is listed on the map, and get my bearings. Then, another siesta, I think. Am writing from memory, still at high altitude, and my brain isn’t getting much oxygen. Anyway, in the evening – went to a touristy cafe place, and ate some llama steak, and used the internet until closing.
I got up on the 23 July in enough time to get to the tour agency for my silver mine tour, but not early enough for breakfast. Instead, had a cup of coca tea, then into a minibus for the tour. Taken to a little house in town, where we’re fitted out with trousers, a jacket, gumboots, helmet, and the strongest looking lads with a battery pack and helmet lamp. I was the first to be given a lamp – the guy’s eyes lit up when he saw me. This entire continent mistakes too much cerveza for being fit and strong. Anyway, got fitted out, and told that it is hot in the mines. I’d meant to ask the guy when booking, but forgot. Am wearing thermals all over, with another layer over top, and then the stuff provided. Can’t be bothered changing. How hot can it be? Back into vehicles – this time I’ve been allocated a group, and our group has got a van to ourselves. The van would have been much happier without a group at all – and indeed, we all had to get out so that it could make it up the first hill attempted. But, we made it to the Miner’s Market. This is where we are to buy gifts for the miners. Guide talks us through the equipment that miners use, and how the miners here are essentially self-employed, and have to provide their own equipment. So usually don’t. Recommends buying lots of soft drink & coca leaves for them, as well as a few cigarettes, dynamite, etc if we want. I’m the first to put my hand up for buying dynamite. Comes in a little plastic bag. A dynamite kit. One stick of dynamite, a fuse/detonator, and a little bag of ammonium nitrate (or something, whatever the oirish use to make bombs – and makes dynamite heaps more powerful when packed around it). I buy two bags, intending one for the miners, and one for myself. Only place IN THE WORLD one can buy dynamite without all that annoying legal nonsense. Also buy some soft drink, cigarettes, coca leaves (again – some for myself), and a bottle of the miners’ choice of booze. 96% alcohol which I tried. Tasty. They use it to toast the devil every Friday. (Christianity didn’t think of that. Teach the heathens that the devil lives underground. Then make the heathens into slaves in the mines. Heathens figure it out… “we’re underground, the devil is the lord of the underground, ergo – we’d better worship HIM, and not the invisible guy in the sky”)
I have breakfast with some of the guides at a stall in the market. One guide tells me the name/nickname of the food, and informs me that the name translates to “Shit”. Asks if I still want some. Sure. Haven’t had breakfast, and if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. Just. Then – back into van, which struggles up the hill/mountain. Girls are issued with new expensive ultralight helmet lamps. I get photo taken of me pretending to smoke stick of dynamite as a cigar. Ha! Then – into mine. Very dusty mine. Built for the short bolivians. After a little while, arrive at a ‘museum’. Has a few examples of equipment, and the statue of the devil which the miners worship. Good statue. Also statues of pirates – who the miners liked, because they stole the silver from the hated Spanish. Also, a very interesting piece on the tax system. Took a photo of that for some of you people who complain about my photos. Then – onwards into mine. Hands and knees for quite a lot of the time. Very claustrophobic, and hearing trolleys rattling along behind you, above you, all around you. Above is prettyscary, because it becomes rather obvious that tunnels are rather close to each other – making cave-ins a very real prospect. Stopped in one little open area to learn about some history. Stories about inter-mine wars, and miners versus the police. “The police have guns. We don’t. But we have dynamite, so we use dynamite.” Sweet. More crawling, and see a few miners at work. Hand out presents, etc. Very very nasty environment to work in. Most miners die after 15 years of working in mines. Very interesting trip, but was pretty happy to get out. Especially as my second bag of dynamite, and one bought by the oirish couple (surprise, surprise) had been set aside to make ‘bombas’. So – back to sunlight, then watch the guide making dynamite bombs. Not like on the A-Team. Don’t just stick the detonator into the top of the stick, light it, then throw it out of the helicopter – resulting in bad-man’s jeep to roll. Unwrap dynamite, knead it into a ball (is just like playdoh), rewrap it, stick the detonator/fuse in it – then place it in a plastic bag, and pour the fertiliser into the bag. Tie the bag up, leaving fuse coming out. Tie your bomb to a barbie doll, thread the fuse through the barbie doll’s mouth – then light it. Wait as people ask how long the fuse burns for, then finally run down hill, place bomb, run back, and wait. And boom. Big BOOM. Felt the shockwaves in my body – and was (not by choice) a considerable distance from the explosion. Cool.
Back in van, drop off equipment. Then, others head straight for showers, while my priority is cerveza. Cerveza, then to hostel for shower, and possibly another siesta. (High altitude plus exercise = many siestas). Then, found a nice restaurant for some good food and red wine.
Woke up on 24 July very very sore. But, packed stuff, and checked out. Left luggage in the hostel, and headed to town. Just in time to join a tour of the mint. Rather interesting, although nothing in particular I can think of which would be worthy of your time. Old methods of making coins. Machines to flatten silver ingots. Story of the treasure ship which was sunk – and only discovered fairly recently by american treasure hunters. Who generously gave two coins back to Potosi. Out of $400 million worth of silver. At the end, had option to buy a ‘blank’, then use the old coin stamping method to stamp one’s own coin. One couple did it, with cheapest blank. Sledgehammer onto top of vice type thing, coin stamped. I decide to do it too, but insist on pure silver. The most expensive one. And told I have to hit it very hard for it to work with silver. Sweet – can do. Couple take photo for me – bang, coin stamped. Then, discover couple are kiwi. We chat, then go for lunch/breakfast together. I mention I’d heard the nunnery museum is interesting. So, we walk markets together, then off to the nunnery with us.
Have to pay extra to be allowed to take photos. Tour of nunnery. A little interesting, but most of place has been ‘restored’, which in this case means turned into a museum – leaving very little of how it originally was. Did get to see their flagellation tools though. And a particularly brutal portrayal of Jeebers on the cross. But, after two and a half hours, I think everybody was rather happy when the tour ended. And I was very cold. Sun had gone down, and I had only one layer on – with rest of clothing back at hostel. Hurried back to hostel, put on more clothes, then headed towards bus station. Stopped twice for hot food and cold cerveza. The second time accompanied by Jean-Claude Van Damme (twice – cleverly playing two characters). Then, suddenly noticed the time, and got a taxi the rest of the way. In bus station, first office had no tickets for La Paz. Then, heard guy yelling “La Paz, La Paz”. Rushed over, bought a ticket off him. Already printed, with somebody else’s name on it. Sweet. A local woman does the same, and I follow her to findout what platform my bus is at. Get there, and find gringo carefully watching bags being lowered by rope from window of ticket office upstairs. She tells story, similar to one I’d heard before, about luggage being stolen from bus luggage compartment. Sure, fair enough, but realise that maybe my pack is supposed to be given to the folks upstairs. Ask the guy packing the luggage, and sure enough. It is now the scheduled time for bus to leave, so I run upstairs, hand my pack over, and run back downstairs to make sure it is loaded onto correct bus. Get back down just in time to see it land on the ground, and packed away. Onto bus (normal class, not cama. Which means no legrest, and just a normal seat that reclines very little. For an 11 hour trip.), and am sitting next to woman with small boy on her lap. Fellow comes down calling out names, apparently the names of people who’ve bought tickets. Woman next to me tries to explain that she just bought a ticket, with name preprinted. Doesn’t seem happy at the response. Perhaps that if the real person turns up, she’s out of luck? I just show my ticket. A few more people get on, and sit/stand in the aisle. And we’re off. Am careful of stuff in my pocket closest to aisle, as guy is sitting just behind my eyelevel in the aisle. But soon I’m absorbed by the movie. Blood In, Blood Out. The title intrigues me, but I’m completely drawn in when the dialogue switches randomly between spanish and english. Excellent. Movie finishes, people in aisle get off somewhere, child on lap next to me throws up, we stop at a little ‘cafe’ in the middle of nowhere. People use the side of the road as a toilet (men & women), and a few of us have a nice cup of tea in the ‘cafe’.
Then, stand around a small fire on the roadside outside. A couple of drunk locals (not sure local to where. Really seemed to be just one building in middle of nowhere) walk past, and seem to be trying to pick a fight with me. Not sure, and if so – subtly. May have just been very very drunk. One guy fell into me a couple of times, possibly wanting me to push him away. Eventually walk off, then the drunker one turned around, and started to rush back towards me. His amigo stopped him though, and they disappeared into the darkness. I’m really not keen to get into a fight with locals, as even if I act in self-defence, it may be 50-50 as to who other locals side with. But, nothing happened this time, and I got back onto bus in time for us to drive off again. With a new person getting onboard to sleep in the aisle right next to me. I manage to get a few periods of sleep.
Next update, La Paz. By then, I will have done some bycicling (yes, that’s how it’s spelt) done the world’s most dangerous road. Also – to the Publican from Col-bin-a-bin (yes, that’s how it’s pronounced), I did get your little message – but it has since disappeared when my computer nerds moved my website for me. In answer to your queries, I haven’t had too much dealings with Latin American constabularies. Neither, to my memory, have I had any uncontrollable waves of nausea. Although last night was close, after drinking a quantity of coca liquor. I believe it was the cocacola which made me feel ill. Haven’t drunk that crap in a long long time, but thought I’d make an exception for using it as a mixer with coca liquor, and therefore recreating (nearly) the original cocacola recipe containing cocaine.