Potosi was our next destination and except for Pete, it was where we left most of the group from the Salar de Uyuni tour. Potosi sits at 4060 metres and holds the title of the highest city in the world. Just walking two hundred yards here leaves you breathing like you´ve run the Bristol 10K. During our travels we´ve spoken to a lot of travellers coming down through Bolivia. Innevitably the ´danger stories´ and muggings are what most people harp on about. Consequently, we dived into a cab like petrified sheep on arrival in Potosi and headed for a hostel the Lonely Planet raves about - Koala Den. Well I think LP needs new authors as it was very average and the manager was one of those over friendly "I lurv you Eeenglish, I lurv London" creepy sort of managers. We only stayed for one night and the following day, leaving a wimpy Hannah behind, Pete and I headed off on a tour of the Potosi Mine.
The working mine began life for gold and silver but nowadays the extraction of minerals is all that remains. It has one of the worst, if not the worst health and safety records in history, and since it opened, 200 years ago, over 8 million people have died. Extraction is by hand and usually father and son teams do the work. Once you start working in the mine you have a life expectancy of ten years due to the asbestos and harsh conditions. So, of course, we decided to go down it for a few hours. The mine sits above Potosi at around 4600 metres and the tunnels go deep into the mountain. It´s a surreal and unsettling experience meeting a 17 year old boy 200 metres below ground digging for his livelyhood. We helped him dig out a section and load it up for 20 minutes, which was exhausting at that altitude. As I climbed back out of the small tunnel section using a series of wooden ladders and rock climbing skills I was face to face with asbestos fibres covering the walls. Whilst your down there, the custom is to give the workers coca leaves, cigarrettes and dynamite in return for you being a idiotic backpacker getting in their way. Mining is still the main industry in Potosi and so it is set to continue for many more years to come. On my way out I met the 17 year old´s Dad who was returning to load up a truck with 1 and 1/2 tonnes of rubble, each truck may get him and his son 35-45 Bolivianos (3.50 - 4.50 pounds).
That afternoon the three of us were off to Sucre, the judicial capital of Bolivia, and the fastest way was by taxi. We thought nothing could be as uncomfortable as the bus the day before but we were mistaken as myself and H were joined in the back by a giant Bolivian man dressed from head to toe in denim. The drivers music was blarring out 80s classics remixed by a Bolivian pan pipe band as the giant turned to us and smiled displaying his full set of gold teeth. The journey was spent leaning into bends as our driver hurtled round corners beeping at people and livestock crossing the road that he was heading for. After 2 hours of this we arrived in Sucre and were pleasently suprised by its palm trees and colonial arcitecture - a far cry from Potosi.
Through default we found a great hostel called La Dolce Vita. It was modern and clean, and unlike a lot of Bolivia so far, did not smell of wee! The days passed too quickly in Sucre whilst we recharged our batteries in this beautiful city. It is time to move on and from Sucre we are heading to Lake Titicaca and the lakeside town of Copacabana.
The working mine began life for gold and silver but nowadays the extraction of minerals is all that remains. It has one of the worst, if not the worst health and safety records in history, and since it opened, 200 years ago, over 8 million people have died. Extraction is by hand and usually father and son teams do the work. Once you start working in the mine you have a life expectancy of ten years due to the asbestos and harsh conditions. So, of course, we decided to go down it for a few hours. The mine sits above Potosi at around 4600 metres and the tunnels go deep into the mountain. It´s a surreal and unsettling experience meeting a 17 year old boy 200 metres below ground digging for his livelyhood. We helped him dig out a section and load it up for 20 minutes, which was exhausting at that altitude. As I climbed back out of the small tunnel section using a series of wooden ladders and rock climbing skills I was face to face with asbestos fibres covering the walls. Whilst your down there, the custom is to give the workers coca leaves, cigarrettes and dynamite in return for you being a idiotic backpacker getting in their way. Mining is still the main industry in Potosi and so it is set to continue for many more years to come. On my way out I met the 17 year old´s Dad who was returning to load up a truck with 1 and 1/2 tonnes of rubble, each truck may get him and his son 35-45 Bolivianos (3.50 - 4.50 pounds).
That afternoon the three of us were off to Sucre, the judicial capital of Bolivia, and the fastest way was by taxi. We thought nothing could be as uncomfortable as the bus the day before but we were mistaken as myself and H were joined in the back by a giant Bolivian man dressed from head to toe in denim. The drivers music was blarring out 80s classics remixed by a Bolivian pan pipe band as the giant turned to us and smiled displaying his full set of gold teeth. The journey was spent leaning into bends as our driver hurtled round corners beeping at people and livestock crossing the road that he was heading for. After 2 hours of this we arrived in Sucre and were pleasently suprised by its palm trees and colonial arcitecture - a far cry from Potosi.
Through default we found a great hostel called La Dolce Vita. It was modern and clean, and unlike a lot of Bolivia so far, did not smell of wee! The days passed too quickly in Sucre whilst we recharged our batteries in this beautiful city. It is time to move on and from Sucre we are heading to Lake Titicaca and the lakeside town of Copacabana.
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