It's Grim Up North

Bolivia is officially the poorest country in South America and you don't have to look very hard to recognise that life here is pretty hard for many people. However, many travellers that I had met had told me that Bolivia had been the great surprise of their trip; they hadn't been expecting much but had loved the place. Forever Miss Contrary I have to say that I had good expectations but have liked it less than I thought I would! I can't quite pinpoint why that is, but the fact that it's the rainy season and many days are grey and overcast doesn't help to lift the mood of general grimness. The people have a very different manner too and seem much more reserved than the immediately warm Argentines or the friendly Brazilians which can make interactions in hostels and restaurants seem like hard work rather than pleasant exchanges.

Perhaps it's not all Bolivia's fault. I think I have probably come at it from the wrong angle so to speak; most people work their way south but coming north from the relative luxury of Argentina and Chile, Bolivia was always going to require some readjustment. Maybe, after 5 months away, I'm not sure I wanted to adjust back to filthy toilets and dodgy food (the double-whammy of course being that the dodgy food means you need to use the filthy toilets even more than usual!) Over the last 3 weeks I've been bitten by fleas, bed-bugs, and other unidentifiable nasties besides. I've ridden, totally squished up, on buses that reek of piss with boxes of chicks and babies in grubby blankets plonked on my lap. I've slept in the mankiest sleeping bag imaginable and several times have just wished I could put my whole body and contents of my rucksack into some sort of industrial fumigator. I've had an upset stomach for the first time since the Amazon and couldn't bring myself to eat for a couple of days after the horror of finding a live slug in my sandwich (I know, I know, better than finding half a live slug...) But I really should stop moaning cos it hasn't been all bad, there have been a lot of good points about Bolivia too: it has a fascinating culture, vibrant colours, amazing diversity of landscape and I have met some lovely people too. Let's also not forget that Bolivia is ridiculously cheap for the traveller, although what is it about cheap countries that brings out the skinflint in people? At 15 Bolivianos to the pound I am more than happy to pay the full price for most things here but have lost count of the number of quibbles I have witnessed over 2 or 3 Bs or other travellers telling you smugly they only paid 25 Bs for their hostel as opposed to your 30!

The five of us set off from Uyuni on a horrible night bus to Potosi (see above for general conditions on buses). Although this is a fairly well-used route the road, like many others in Bolivia, is not paved which means in the rainy season the term 'road' is a bit of a misnomer. I was glad of the company when, in the middle of the trip, the bus lurched precariously to a halt next to a massive precipice which, with the heavy rain, had turned into a waterfall. At first I couldn't see through the complete darkness and I asked Leo if he could see why we had stopped. "I think it's best if you don't look" he replied. He was right of course but we all watched in fascinated terror as the bus tried to ford this torrent of water. I did actually consider getting off when the bus got stuck in the mud and you could feel the force of the water pushing us even closer to the edge. Obviously we survived the ordeal and you may feel I'm being melodramatic (moi?) but this is Bolivia and buses do go over the edges of roads with frightening frequency. We met several other people with horror stories of seeing buses submerged in rivers like submarines; one guy who'd had no water or food for 2 days while his bus had been stranded; and a girl who'd been on a bus where every single passenger had been made to get off and pull on ropes to drag their bus free from the mud. Perhaps we got off lightly? But the whole experience did make me rethink my plans to bike down the 'world's most dangerous road' which is a popular tourist pastime here.

At 4,070m Potosi is the highest city in the world. It was put on the map in the early 17th century when the Spanish extracted immense amounts of silver from the hill, Cerro Rico, which dominates the city, and it became a fabulously rich place with a population to rival Paris at the time. The colonial legacy means it is a UNESCO world heritage site but the silver has long gone. However 18,000 miners still work the mines in the mountain scouring through tonnes of barren earth searching for tin, lead and other minerals. The cooperative mine we visited pays the miners a fixed wage which is twice that of a beginner teacher and half that of a doctor. Despite this the conditions are still dangerous and primitive, with most of the work being done by hand. Also some practices which continue, such as sacrificing llamas and making offerings to Tio Jorge, the devil of the mines, seem to belong to a different era. As does the practice of drinking 96% proof alcohol on the job. Apparently the alcohol must be pure in order to increase the probability of finding a lode of pure silver. Call me a cynic but I would have thought it was more likely to increase the probability of falling down a shaft or having a very unpleasant accident with the dynamite used to blast the rock. The visit was really interesting but after only a hour in the thin air squeezing through narrow tunnels and struggling up ladders, with the dull thump of distant explosions resonating through the rock, I was glad to be outside again.

The miners chew coca leaves continously to keep them awake and alert and to suppress any feelings of hunger. This is a topical subject at the moment because the US is paying Bolivia vast sums of money to destroy coca crops but many Bolivians (especially indigenous ones) see it as an attempt to eradicate a custom that is centuries old and an integral part of life for many here. (Wilfer, our driver/guide in Uyuni also chewed coca continously to keep him awake while driving such long distances) In the Museum of Coca in La Paz they also argue that it was only when US and European hands got hold of coca that the 'destructive' substance of cocaine was born. President Morales, an indigenous former coca grower himself, is less keen on dancing to the US tune than his predecessor so it is unclear what will happen next.

My four friends were headed for Lake Titicaca but after my near-death experience (who said I was melodramatic?!) in a snow-blizzard there two years ago, I decided to give it a miss and head for la Paz. Its the highest capital city in the world and sprawls up and down the sides of a huge valley. I really liked it there and found the steep cobbledy streets perfect for wondering around (if you don't mind not being able to breathe, that is) and also perfect for shopping for cheap artisan crafts (and pirate DVDs of course)- guess what you're all getting as presents!

Near La Paz are the ruins of the ancient city of Tiwanaku. My guide would proudly have me believe that the ruins rivalled Macchu Picchu and were in fact probably the birthplace of the Inca ancestors. A little deluded perhaps but it was an interesting site nonetheless. Next I headed north to Sorata (on the worst bus yet) to a landscape that was completely different to that which I had seen in the rest of Bolivia. It was beautiful: bright green lush valleys set against a backdrop of snow-capped peaks, and from the bus alone I saw several condors circling and what I'm sure was an eagle. Sorata is quite remote (one of the few places Ive been without internet!) and the few tourists that come come mainly for the mountains. Feeling like a lard-ass due to several weeks of inactivity and aware that my return to UK is approaching rapidly I had decided to do 3 days trekking. I met up again with Leo and Joao, the Brazilians, and persuaded an Australian girl and Israeli girl to join our group. The next day we set off with guides and mules and spent a very enjoyable time walking and camping in the mountains. It was harder work than I thought but I guess all the walking I did in Ecuador was a long time ago now; probably the fact that we were at 5000m didn't help either. We were lucky with the weather in that it didnt pour and we even had quite a bit of sunshine. It was frighteningly changeable though, we arrived at Laguna Glaciar in sunshine but within minutes it was snowing.

The day we got back to Sorata we were lucky to see the Festival of Plenty, when hundreds of people descend on a special market to buy miniature versions of things that they would like to have for real e.g. cars, houses, dollars etc. They then get them blessed by Aymara 'witches' so that the real things will arrive within the year. We were expecting some kind of spectacle as our guide from the mountains made a big deal of these Shamanic witches but the reality was some very bored looking crones sprinkling a bit of liquid out of an old plastic bottle onto anything that was fervently pushed into their hands! They didn't have any miniature George Clooneys so I settled for a new car instead. And I'm sure it will be waiting for me on the driveway back in Wycombe!

Now I'm in the east of Bolivia in Santa Cruz waiting for a train to whisk me off to Brazil. Unfortunately being 'whisked' away anywhere is highly unlikely as the train is referred to as the death train because it's so slow (at least that's what I was told and am choosing to believe that's the reason!) I also couldn't get a ticket for 2 days so have ended up here longer than I hoped. It's been interesting though, as with it's expensive clothes shops and restaurants Santa Cruz feels a million miles away from other parts of Bolivia. Last night there was a pre-carnival parade and the glamorous costumes and European-looking faces seemed out of place with my experience of Bolivia. This is in fact a contentious issue at the moment as three oil-rich eastern regions including Santa Cruz are seeking autonomy from central government as they believe they have nothing in common with the poorer, idigenous regions of the Altiplano. Some people even believe that civil war in Bolivia is inevitable. Let's hope not as this seems to be a country with enough problems to resolve already. Interestingly though, the people here seem a lot warmer and more welcoming. Maybe it's just that life isn't quite so hard here.....


The condensed version: Rain and grime take the shine off an otherwise fascinating place

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