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Published: June 18th 2010
I'm now in Potosi in Bolivia- it's not been 'fun' per se since Tilcara, but worthwhile. From Tilcara we headed north to the border with Bolivia- a pastiche of an inefficient Latin American frontier; the booths to get both entry and exit stamps were next to one another in a room about as big as my living room, with only one door and of course no signs to tell you what was where or who was queuing for what, not that the instinct to queue here is strong, indeed, quite the opposite. Nevertheless we (about 6 gringos struggling together with the sheer stupidity of it) got over after about 2 hours and boarded a train, or rather the train- there are only 4 a week- which took us the 10 hours to Uyuni, where we stayed the night before a long, rattly bus to Potosi the next morning. The train was quite funny, we were in 'executive class', much to the disdain of an up-himself 'I'm-a-proper-traveller-down-with-the-kids' type from Brazil, who took 3rd class, , who, it was unanimously agreed was an idiot. As it turned out 'executive' was pretty much identical to 2nd class, the only perk being some free biscuits (I'm so fed up with biscuits) in the dining carriage.
I'll be returnig to Uyuni to see the awesome (by all acounts) salt flats nearby, but not for a few weeks. I'm getting pretty fed up with buses, so the trip down to Chile and then back up is not a prospect I'm relishing. Next stop will be Sucre, then Cochabamba for the Torotoro National Park. I do hope it's beautiful. The landscape between Uyuni and Potosi is a desolate wasteland, totally unconducive to supporting human life but some people scratch a living somehow. It has a harsh, rugged beauty, but the sight of abandoned and semi-abandoned towns, inhabited by desperately poor people I found outweighed this. It's a side-step for being full on desert and every little pond and patch of scraggly yellow grass seems a miracle.
Potosi, thus far, despite the decent backpacker scene and the amazing supermarket (it's just like home- I love it!) hasn't been a barrel of laughs either as today I visited the silver mines here. The mountain which looms pink and ominous above the town contained the biggest silver deposits ever found and was of global significance for about 200 years, making Potosi fabulously rich but at an appalling cost in slaves, both Indiginous and imported Africans. Nowadays it is still mined by 10000 Bolivians in atrocious conditions. It's hot, dark and dangerous. Though we were in the tunnels deemed safe enough for tourists we were warned in places not to touch the walls as they contain asbestos and had to scurry to the sides when a cart, pushed by filthy, exhausted miners, hurtled past in a grim parody of a roller coaster ride. It wasn't quite as Dantesque as I'd been warned- I was preparing myself for something even worse, but it was still the stuff of nightmares. We often had to stoop and to our left and right were chasms and holes into which the workers would disappear, all to extract what little silver, zinc, tin and lead remains in the almost void mountain. I must say I'm looking for forward to some lighter activities and a bit of fun in the next week or so!
Although Bolivia sounds very depressing from this, it is also great. The food is really tasty, the landscape, though barren, is beautiful, the people are mostly friendly and there are so many great places, a little less heavy, that I've yet to visit. I've also decided to buy the most hideous alpaca jumper I can find, so will be keeping my eyes peeled. I was going to get my head shaved but chickened out, nevertheless had an interesting cultural experience at the hairdressers .
Political Correctness has not yet reached Bolivia. Whilst I was having my hair cut the boy next to me was having his hair curled. I asked why and it was explained to me that he was in a special dance at school. This seemed nice enough, maybe some traditional thing where boys have curly hair. I asked later what the festival was celebrating. Ít's not a festival but a play at school´aah I see, 'what part is he?' When she explained it began to make sense; the black jumper and gloves, stockings and shoes-, oh he's an African (in Spanish, ´Negrito´, which didn't help) slave, at which point out comes the prop of, what else, but a meter long iron chain. Just to make it complete, at that moment his mum came in, all in a fluster, as parents are around school productions and hurriedly applied his pitch black face paint and deep red lipstick. I think any inappropriate House Drama productions (of which there have been many) pale (pail?) in comparison.
Today was fairly eventful, now in Sucre, which is beatiful but unfortunately is experiencing some protests at the moment, this morning we were in a market and they tried to prevent people enering or leaving for reason adn everyone had to force their way out. Later on out of curiosity and stupidity we got a little close and got a touch mixed up in some tear gas and fleeing protesters, which wasn't too pleasant but definitely something to tick off the list. Absolutely fine now and it isn't dangerous, the police are being very restrained and i think the protesters have all dispersed now.. Again i've tried to add photos but without much (or any) success,
hope everyone is well,
believe it or not, having a lot of fun!
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shirley
non-member comment
Tear Gas
Hi there my dear Just to say you seem to be having ALL sorts of adventures...but tear gas!! Also- your Ma showed me a picture of you wearing a vest. Never thought I would see THAT! Love Shirley