We've finally left behind the tropical weather and the mosquitos that come with it (yes!) and entered the central highlands of Bolivia.
Sucre is the official capital and is a small, charming city with lovely tree-lined squares, churches and colourful markets. Everywhere, there are teeny tiny Bolivian ladies (some who look absolutely ancient) in traditional dress - a bowler hat (which looks most strange perched on top of their heads - they are worn on the side of the head if single, on the top if not), layers of petticoats and skirts, and colourful woven blankets around their shoulders in which they carry a child or shopping etc.
Bolivia is such a contrast from Brazil. About two thirds of the population still live traditional lifestyles in adobe (mud brick and straw roof) huts, mostly on the harsh altiplano (high plateau). They live outside the monetary system on a self-sufficient basis.
In Sucre, we met up with 6 more people in our tour group and the average age just shot up! We are now travelling with 2 Canadian ladies in their 70s and a Danish couple in their 50s. Also, an English couple just out of Uni have joined us. It's challenging, but great to share experiences with such a diverse range of people.
After a couple of days in Sucre, we took a bus ride to Potosi. We stopped in a village on the way and saw a group of people from a blessing ceremony come out of a local church. The old ladies had big bags of confetti that they kept insisting on piling up under the men`s hats! Most strange. As they descended the church steps they let off loads of firecrackers. If they were enjoying themselves, they didn`t show it on their faces - it was all quite a serious affair.
Potosi is the highest city of its size on earth and has a tragic history. The Spanish discovered the Inca silver mine here in the Cerro Rica mountain which looms over the city. Huge amounts of silver were extracted (it is said enough to build a silver bridge from Spain to Bolivia) and Potosi was the largest city in the Americas in the early 17th century. The wealth generated supported the extravagences of the Spanish monarchy. But in order to mine the silver the Spanish enslaved the Indians, and when they began to die off, imported slaves from Africa. It is estimated that in the 3 centuries of colonial rule, a massive 8 million slaves died in the mines. They were made to work and live for 4 months at a time down the mines and when they came out there eyes had to be covered to avoid sun damage.
It was after a few hours in Potosi at 4070m that the altitude began to take its toll on us. Headache, slight nausea, breathlessness, positive dizziness after climbing stairs, and a pumping heart rate. It was all a bit disconcerting as neither of us had experienced this before and we were not prepared for how hard it hits you. After a sleepless night, Darren did the sensible thing and decided to chill out for the morning. Angela, however, was determined to go on the mine tour that is meant to be one of Bolivias unforgettable experiences.
Almost all the silver has now gone and the government shut down its mining operations at Potosi in the 80s. Now the mountain is mined by small cooperatives, extracting mainly the minerals left behind - tin and lead etc - and tiny amounts of silver if they're lucky. A large bag of minerals is worth only 70p. There are currently about 7000 men and boys working there. We took a tour led by a women who's father worked in the mines. The conditions are medieval - they work with hand tools and dynamite at temparatures up to 45 degrees C in the lower levels of the mine. Positions are handed down through families with young boys starting work at the age of 12 and generally taking on their father's role when he dies. Life expectancy in the lower, hotter, more dangerous, but more lucrative area of the mine is 10-15 years from starting work. In the upper, less productive levels, miners usually live to around 45 or 50. We meet one old guy who'd been working the mines for 39 years and was about to retire. Respect. Even now there are around 40 deaths a year just from accidents, not counting the lung diseases that miners inevitably die of (silicosis pneumonia is the most common). The mines contain all sorts of nasties - arsenic deposits, silicon, acetyte, pockets of carbon monoxide, and further down where it gets hot, asbestos lines the walls.
Wondering quite what we had let ourselves in for, the entire group minus Darren and Barbara, were decked out in protective clothing (basically a shell suit!), welly boots, hard hats and torches. We'd bought some material in the market the previous day to use as makeshift masks to try and filter some of the dust and chemicals. So, you can imagine how ridiculous we all looked in our scouse cowboy outfits. When we got up to the mine we stopped at the market outside and bought presents for the miners that we would meet - cigarettes, coca leaves, dynamite and biscuits. We also got to have a go on coca leaves (like sucking a tea bag and makes your mouth go numb) and the 98 precent proof alcohol (like drinking white spirit) that the miners rely on to get them past the hunger and tiredness on their sometimes 18 or 24 hour shifts.
Then we entered the mine through one of the low tunnels, bending over and shuffling along. After about 25m, the tunnel got smaller and all the oldies in our group decided that this perhaps wasn't such a good idea after all (I'd been quite amazed that they had come this far - they obviously hadn't read about it first) and there was a lot of tooing and froing as half the group backed out, stepping on toes and getting in the way of the miners who were trying to pass with their wheelbarrows. Finally we were down to a group of 6 of us who were ready for the full-on experience. At one point we had to get down to the next lower level of the mine. No lifts here, though. You literally have a rope tied around the top of your legs and then get lowered down a narrow 30m hole using a wooden hard-turned winch system. Being a bit gung ho about it all, and deciding that the longer I waited, the more nervous I`d get, I volunteered to be the first to be lowered down, amid much 'ladies first' mutterings from the lads in the group! It was an eerie expierence waiting in down in the silence of the lower level until the next person had come down.
The tour consisted of scrambling through muddy, often steep tunnels and galleries, meeting the miners as they worked and giving them our gifts, and ended in an area where they worship the 2 gods of the mine - the devil (who bizarrely is called Uncle George, and wore wellington boots!) and Pachamama - a sort of mother nature type figure. Here they set of a dynamite explosion further down the tunnel, which I could feel reverberating in every inch of my body and then a big rush of air came past.
When we emerged, blinking in the sunlight, trying to get the dust out of our eyes and gasping for the fresh air everyone agreed they would never complain about their job again.
We also visited the local textile market where we bought warm clothes for our forthcoming altiplano excursion. Darren bought himself a pair of male tights (longjohns actually! *Darren*) complete with a crotch hole!
We left Potosi and headed off through dramatic scenery to our next stop, Uyuni. We drove along dirt roads through barren hills that seemed to go on and on, dotted with the odd cactus, yellow grass and scraggly bushes. Here and there, where there is water, although sometimes only the meagrest trickle, we passed small farming communities, still ploughing the fields with oxen. The houses are exactly the same colour as the brown landscape and look almost as if they have grown up from the ground like stalagmites.
As the sun set we emerged from the mountains and ahead of us stretched a huge flat plain. The wind was whipping the sand up into mini-tornadoes on the horizon. In the middle of all this we saw a town. It was hard to imagine how people could survive, let alone make a living in this harsh empty environment. This was Uyuni, the dust blown ghost town where we would spend the night before our 4 day jeep excursion. In fact, tourism is the main business here, with over 40 agencies lining the main street. Not quite off the beaten track yet!
Sucre Hotels
21 votes 
