Road trip to Potosi

---

Just had great weekend on our first trip away from Cochabamba. About 10 of us ´volunteers´ went for a road trip to Potosi, the centre of bolivia´s mining industry and location of the legendary mines. Late bus to Oruro on Friday expecting to be able to go by train to Potosi the next day. Had some hassle finding a suitable hostel for the night, had to knock everyone out of bed. Eventually got somewhere though and then wandered around a very closed and dull Oruro looking for food drink. Ended up huddled around a street kitchen where this wizened old dear cooked cheese pastries (for those of us brave or foolhardy enough to eat street food).

Next day discovered trains only run two days a week, and guess what this wasn’t one of them. So decided to use the gold ole buses instead. Spent the day at a Lago (lake) out of town which was supposed to have all sorts of attractions according to Lonely Planet (aka LP), but soon realized that this section of the book is badly in need of update. Talked a friendly bus driver into extending his route another 5 miles to take us to the lake - found it was not quite as action packed as expected - and then were faced with a long walk back in the midday sun, not a nice prospect. So managed to hitch-hike on the back of a truck into town, although not before some suffered sunburn - its so easy to burn in this sun, only takes a few minutes if you haven’t got any lotion on. Then caught a taxi, an average estate, for all 10 of us plus driver (it´s alright for these youngsters but we nearly suffocated!) to some hot springs. After one look at the colour/smell/and scum on the water, Claire and I refused to go in and sat for a drink while watching the locals go about their laundry/toilet/coach washing and llama wool drying…interesting stuff.

Rather than another overnight bus or arriving late in Potosi with the same hassle of finding a hostel, we decided to break the journey in a place call Challapata. The journey there in a local bus was ok, the total darkess in the bus meant you could see the amazing sunset over the mountains and then the fantastic star display.

Challapata only rates two sentences in the LP with scant mention of accommodation or food, so we knew we were going off the beaten track here - but that’s what it´s all about. Anyway, it turned out to be a real frontier, one-horse, dungheap of a town. Really not worth visiting. We managed to get a hostel sharing dorms (how did I talk Claire into this? Dunno, no real alternative I guess) for about 1 pound each (this seemed expensive actually given what it was). So we found the nearest eatery, the owner of which must have thought his prayers had been answered when 10 hungry thirsty gringos marched in for a nights entertainment, and wasted the evening in suitable style.

Challapata is a dump, it’s a minor stopping point on the many coaches that go from North to South, somewhere the drivers stop at their favorite pension for dinner, leaving the coach and contents to fend for themselves for the 20 minutes it take to consume their food. But there are no formal facilities there, so everyone jumps off the coach and runs to the side of the road to do their business, what ever this might be. So the place is becoming an open toilet. No-one seems to notice or mind that their town is being transformed like this, and no-one cleans it up. Grim.

The night passed mostly without incident expect that one of the girls, who had been rather unwell, continued to be unwell in the night, including unsuccessfully making it to the toilet in time, meaning rather a nasty middle of the night sheets and floor cleaning session - Claire and I hid under the covers!

Up early the next day (not much choice as no curtains in the dorm), the team split into those wanting to see Lago Poopo (rather apt pun we thought), and us, who wanted to get straight to Potosi for the action. We managed to flag down a passing ´luxury´ coach, but were told it was standing room only. Undeterred, four of us got on. Claire of course managed to get herself straight into the only seat left on the coach, I sat on a small old drum outside the (thankfully not in use) toilet. Bolivian coach drivers do not encourage the use of the on-board toilets and only grudgingly stop for the use of the side of the road, so bladder control is a must. Anyway the journey was rather spectacular over the alti-plano and through the hills, and I had a good view from my elevated drum. All in all not too bad, so arrived in Potosi quite perky.

Potosi is a interesting place, the buildings are a lot older than most as a result of its long term mining interest. It seems to have been built around the Cerro Rico (literally rich mountain), a peak overlooking the town which has been mined op top underneath and around the middle for its range of metal ores like tin, silver, manganese and a few more obscure ones. The whole face of the mountain has been stripped, and now the spoil heaps are growing ever bigger to take over. There are apparently 10000 miners working the mountain, which has been in constant production for 600 years. The miners are arranged into (loosely termed) co-operatives, but being Bolivia, the politics of it all takes over constantly, and while we were there a demonstration took place in the main plaza looking for more rights for the miners.

Anyway, we found a really nice hostel for the rest of our group, but Claire and I went to the swankiest place in town to compensate for the night before in the dorm (apparently). The others arrived later that afternoon content from seeing flamingoes at the Lago, and we all gathered for the evenings entertainment. After a disappointing but throat-loosening dinner, where else should we go but karaoke (whose idea might that have been then?). Sure enough, half an hour later we were installed in a local bar with karaoke machine. Claire and I took the stand and belted out Barry Manilow´s Copacapana to rapturous applause (from our lot) and a 99% rating from the machine. The locals were stunned and took it upon themselves to get back into the contest with a series of abysmal Spanish ballards - Bolivians are not natural singers it seems…they even stopped putting our songs on for a while - sulking I think! Claire and I retreated undefeated after several tequilas (again - whose idea?) when the rest of the team (who are 19-23 yrs mostly) picked up the mantle.

Here we loose two of our team - Potosi is the highest city in the world (?) and you can feel it. We have acclimatized fairly well since our bad time in La Paz (which is lower) but you still get hit. Consequently two leave early the next day on a bus back to Cochabamba.

The whole reason for being here was to visit the mines, a ´must-do´ in Bolivia. So early the next morning, those remaining and sporting suitable hangovers, gather for a trip down the mine. First you go to the market to buy ´presents´ for the miners. This includes coca leaves (for chewing), 96% alcohol (for drinking), fags, and - wait for it - dynamite (for blowing the mountain up). So of course I plumped for the latter - never bought dynamite before!

Then, togged up in rubber suits, helmets and lamps, into the dark we went. After two hours of tramping inside the mines, most were suffering from lack of oxygen, heat, and dust inhalation, and very glad to see the light of day again. One girl had collapsed in the middle of the mine, panicking and hyper-ventilating, and had to be virtually carried out. The mines are an awful environment. There is no consideration for health and safety. Silicosis takes hold within a couple of years; the air is full of noxious gases as well as dusts. These guys have a life expectancy of 45, but if they make it to retirement at 60, they get a pension of around $250 a year. Only one person has ever made it.

It was actually a holiday (may day) so there weren’t that many miners around, apparently on normal days the experience is a lot more ´extreme´. A lot of gringos don’t make it around the trip, which is about 2 miles walking underground; bent double in the heat breathing rank air of virtually no oxygen content. So maybe we were lucky to go when we did. A fascinating experience.

That over, we recovered with a shower at our hostel, then spent the rest of the day looking around town, eating, or shopping in the market. Potosi is a nice place, although it seemed very much on the gringo trail after Cochabamba. Early evening we had booked ourselves on the overnight sleeper bus to Cocha. This passed without incident, getting us back home by about 6am, just enough time to catch an hours sleep before going into the university to teach - except the little buggers didn’t turn up!

First time out with the youngsters…we were signing into the hostel on the first night and when one of them saw my age on the form she nearly had a heart attack - but we must have put up a reasonable show, they want us to go on the next trip! … Great weekend.

---

Photos

Claire and cholita in potosi
Claire makes new friends with a cholita whose birthday it was (and had clearly already celebrated!)

Bolvian bus
Local transportation Bolivian style

Potosi and Cerro Rico
Cerro Rico, the rich mountain, and the reason for Potosi being there.

Simon with dynamite
Are you sure buying miners dynamite is a good idea?

Mine tours trip
Team Potosi prepared for going down the mines.

Mine entrance
Into the mountain...

Potosi miner
A miner. Note the wad of coca leaves in his cheek - they chew this constantly to enable them to work at all.