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Published: September 25th 2007
Well, I have discovered that I am at least as stupid as my tour leader, because I have managed to get my camera stolen, with a week's worth of photos (the most beautiful ones too---the trip around Uyuni was absolutely stunning!) I have been kicking myself so much since the incident two days ago...
I was taking photos at the Kili-kili lookout in La Paz, when a woman asked me to take a photo for her. She said she was from Mexico, travelling by herself, and in Bolivia for two weeks, and suggested that we walk in to town together. It sounded like a sensible idea, so we set off. About 50m down the road, a man stopped us, showed us his national police ID card, and asked to see our documents. She pulled out her passport, and I took out the photocopy of mine (I didn´t have to, I know). Then the 'policeman' said something about needing to take me to the police station, and hailed a taxi that was just passing by. Sounds familiar? It does to me too. I don't know how many times I have read about the fake policeman scam in the guide books. Naturally, I refused to get into the taxi. But the Mexican woman got in straight away, and the 'policeman' said it was too far to walk to the police station (never mind that it was unclear why I should go to the police station in the first place). The woman pleaded with me to get into the taxi, saying it was normal for police to question tourists and that it we could get into more trouble than it was worth. Her acting was very good, and I didn't realise that she was part of the group of thieves. I guess I had temporary insanity, or I was concerned for her, but either way, I eventually got into the taxi, despite knowing full well the man was not a policeman. Well, I went along with things, though nothing made sense. After saying I needed to get a stamp at the police station for visiting museums or something, he explained that he had to check tourists for fake bank notes and drugs. First he sniffed our arms, and declared us to be drug free, then he checked our bags. If I hadn't been worried about what would happen, it would have been laughably funny. He asked if I had my passport with me, or a mobile phone or credit cards, and asked to see my money. The taxi was moving, and nothing terrible had happened when he checked the Mexican woman's bag, so I showed him the contents of my handbag. He pulled out my camera, then my wallet, then asked if I had any other money (I showed him some Argentine pesos I had), then after being satisfied I had nothing else interesting, he made a show of putting everything back. I kept a close eye on my money, and was relieved that it was all back in my handbag. To my surprise, the man said that everything was in order now, and I could get out. I grabbed my things without asking questions and left. The Mexican woman did not get out after me, but quickly slammed the door shut and the taxi zoomed off before I could catch the licence plate. I was astounded, until I realised that I no longer had my camera. It was only then I realised the woman was in on it!
I was dropped off in an area near some shops, but a woman I asked said she had seen nothing. She wasn't even too sure what I was babbling about. A kind man listened to my story and drove me around the block to see if we could find the thieves (of course we didn't), then a mother and daughter offered to accompany me to the police station, where I made my statement. The policewoman taking my report pointed to the posters they had up about fake policemen (as if I needed to be reminded of my stupidity) and told me a story about her glasses being stolen from her while she was sitting on the bus---someone opened the window, took her glasses and closed the windown again! She also warned me that Peru would be more dangerous.
Thinking back, there were so many things that should have tipped me off that the Mexican woman was part of the scam. Her accent was Bolivian rather than Mexican, she wasn't interested when I told her that I might not actually have taken a photo of her, because her camera didn't click, and she didn't look around the lookout at all.
Photos I lost included:
- the tango class in Sucre, which was held in a beautiful building in the Bolivian-German institute.
- the suspension bridge near Sucre on the way to Potosi.
- the young miners I met in Potosi. They were 17, 18, and 19 years old, and joking with each other, looking happy despite their terrible jobs. Perhaps it was because of the alcohol they were drinking (96% proof, mixed with juice). They couldn't find jobs in the city, and had little siblings they had to look after. The life expectancy working at their level in the mines is 45 to 50 years. In the lower levels of the mine, it becomes around 10 years! Apparently, in a city job, you can earn 1000 Bolivianos in a month. You can earn the same amount in a week as a miner, though you could also earn nothing. One of them offered to explode dynamite for us, and sat around talking and drinking while we got increasingly worried about the lit fuse, before finally taking it around the corner (apparently they make about 30 explosions a day, so they do know how much time they have). We could feel the explosion vibrate through our bodies. As these young miners were clearly drunk, we gave them crackers and coca leaves, and saved the alcohol and dynamite for others. We also got an idea of how dangerous the mines were when our guide told us to walk faster. 'Why?' we asked. 'Because that bit of rock is unstable' was the answer the first time. 'We should leave quickly now', said the guide, after we had met four groups of miners. 'Why? It's dynamite hour.'
- the Royal Mint (yes,I managed to go before the bus ride to Uyuni), including the tracks left in the cobbled floor by mules that had to turn the machine for making silver ingots. A weak mule might only have survived 8 days, a strong mule a few months. They used to use slaves from Africa too, but they couldn't survive at the high altitude, and had to be replaced by indigenous people. We also learnt that Bolivian money is no longer made in Bolivia. Their notes are made somewhere in Europe, and the bi-metal 5 boliviano coins are made in Canada.
- the salt flats of Uyuni and area to the southwest. I was going to just put up photos rather than write about the things we saw, which included the teachers' meeting and dance competition in the middle of the flats; the mounds of salt in the vast expanse of whiteness; the funny hexagonal shapes in the salt formed by the rain; Fish Island with its many cacti; the beautiful and warm salt hotel we stayed at (the walls, beds, and floors were made of salt); the strangely beautiful Necropolis in San Juan; the red, white and green lagoons; the flamingoes, llamas, vicunas, vizcachas, an armadillo, and an abandoned lamb we found in the middle of the road, which joined us for th rest of the tour; the geysers, mud pools, and the hot spring surrounded by icy mud (some people actually had the bravery to swim in the hot pool); the Salvador Dali desert, where I got the obligatory perspective shot making it look like I was holding our 4x4 in one hand; the Valley of the Rocks; the towns of Villa Mar, Villa Alota, Culpina and San Cristobal (this village was at the foot of what is now a silver mine---the mining company paid built a new church and houses further away for the people so they can mine in the town's previous location); the train cemetary in Uyuni, and the markets there.
- llama foetuses, dead frogs, etc. in the Witches Market in La Paz.
- and of course the 360 degree view of La Paz from the Kili-Kili lookout.
Losing my camera didn't stop me from getting up at 3am the next day and taking the bus with the Swiss couple in my tour group to Tiahuanaco (Tiwanaku), the site of a pre-Incan culture. Our plan was to see the sunrise of the spring solstice throuh the Sun Gate (apparently, the biggest festival is held on June 21st, the winter solstice, but people celebrate on September 21st too). We got out of the bus just after 5am. It was pitch black, we were the only ones who got off the bus (three indigenous women were forced to sit on the floor until then because the ticket seller had counted on us leaving half way), and there was no one in sight. It was freezing. We wondered what on earth we had gotten ourselves into. At least there weren't going to be any fake policemen around.
We walked along the road in the direction pointed out to us by the ticket seller. I was glad that there was a long walk involved, because I hadn't brought enough clothing and needed to keep moving. A mini-bus passed us, and we began to hope that we would not be the only people stupid enough to get up in the freezing cold to see a sunrise. We neared the museum and the sky began to get brighter. A mini-bus pulled up and a bunch of locals piled into the car park. Yay, we were not alone! It was a bit worrying though, when they asked us about the museum (which was closed) and followed us when we went to investigate the next building.
The next building was open. We went in to escape from the cold. There were some people there already, and when we asked about getting tickets to see the Sun Gate, they told us to wait in the next room. The locals we saw earlier came into the room too, and began laying things out. A video about the monolith discovered at the site was put on. We were invited to participate in their rituals, which began with a shaman welcoming everybody, and us going up one by one to hug the two shamans. Then the shamans said something, and everyone chanted something that sounded like 'Ayaya'. More wise words, more chanting. It felt like a special church service, and we felt privileged to be there.
The shamans began putting things into bowls. One chanted something while sprinkling what looked like dust over the top. We were each given a coloured biscuit, and put them into a bowl for Pachamama (mother earth). The other shaman took a llama foetus, and began wrapping wool and gold and I-don't-know-what-else around it. I wished so much I undererstood more about what was going on.
Just after 6am, we bought tickets to the archeological site (one of my Swiss companions was worried we would miss the sunrise) and were surprised that it was only 30 bolivianos (we had expected it to be 80). At around 6:15am, the congregation, led by the two shamans, walked up to the gate, which was then unlocked. A number of the group ran around with video cameras filming the special occasion.
We followed the group to a field, where a stone gate, smaller than we had expected, was at one end. A bonfire was lit at a sort of stone altar just as the sun began to shine through the stone gate. Everyone stood still with their hands in front of them, palms forward, facing the sun. The shamans began chanting again, and putting the bowls of our offerings into the fire. They threw in coca leaves also, as well as alcohol. It smelt nice. Looking at the bottles afterwards, I assertained that they had thrown in the 96% alcohol drunk by the miners, as well as beer and white wine. After all the burning was done, the shamans gave another speech, and everyone began to hug their neighbours. It felt very much like a church service once again.
We parted ways from the group and explored the rest of the site. According to the guidebook of the Swiss, the Sun Gate was in fact the stone gate at the opposite end of the field from the gate the sun had passed through, which was the Central Gate or something. Would the sun pass through the Sun Gate on June 21st? But doesn't the sun always rise in the East, and isn't the East always the same direction? We went to see the Moon Gate as well, which was about the same size as the other two.
We had breakfast at 8am, then tried to do a tour of the museum at 9am. The person selling the tickets was very rude to us, ignoring us while we waited for him to look up, then selling tickets to some Bolivians who came up behind us. When we finally got his attention, he told us the price of the ticket was 80 bolivianos for everything including the museum, the main archeological site, another archeological site called Puma Punku, and something else (the price for Bolivians is 10 bolivianos). We thought it was terribly expensive, and the man wouldn't give us a discount despite the fact that we had already paid to see the archelogical site earlier in the morning. When we discovered that there was no English guide available, we decided that it was not worth it seeing the museum, and headed out to the Puma Punku site to see if we could bribe the guard there to let us just see that bit (we could).
Afterwards, we took a mini-bus back to La Paz (actually we were dropped off at El Alto and had to take another mini-bus) and I spent the rest of the afternoon choosing a new camera to buy.
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Wendy
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Mamamia
Hey gorgeous, Im so sorry to hear about your camera but I'm very glad that you're safe\^^/ Take care lor:)