Since we last spoke old friend I have crossed into Bolivia. A combination of off road trekking, cold nights, high altitudes, wondrous landscapes, and food poisoning have graced me.
On Wednesday, 21 May, after a long and hungry bus ride from Calama, Chile, I arrived in the small town of Uyuni, Bolivia. On the bus ride, I befriended an amicable, and also hungry, Swiz couple - Daniel and Anne-Marie - whom I would share a room with. The ratio of gringos to locals in Uyuni is 1:1. It is nothing more than launching pad for tourists for tours or as stop over to Potosi. Much like many of the other towns I had passed it is reliant on tourism for its survival.
I had held off doing a tour, and sought alternative means to visit the local scenery in the past; but to discover this vast wonderland you either needed access to a vehicle, or public transport that will take you there - neither were to be found. To discover the region of Uyuni you needed to take a tour - I reluctantly conceded; though the offer was good: 2 nights, 3 days, all meals included, accommodation, and 200 kms later on a 4x4, all for $70 US.
On Friday, 23 May, a caravan of 4x4s awaits a hoard of tourists to depart Uyuni in synchronisation; fortunately this separates along the trip, and we were soon bastards. The tour was picturesque; but long travelled with only short stops at the tourist areas. Throughout the three days I was presented with salt plains, isolated lakes that inhabit the Andes mountains, thermal waters, geysers, and historical tracks dating back to pre-Incan society. No description will give these sites justice, so view the photos.
It was my intention to travel with the Swiz couple, but due to last minute swaps, I was placed with other gringos - present: Manu, Sebastian, Tomas (all Dutch), Kate (English), Matt (Kiwi), and me. The social relations throughout the trip were on acquaintance level with most, although the companies of Matt, and Kate to a certain extent, were more interesting and enjoyable. The Dutch group embodied the stereotypical aspects of a gringo traveller: simple minded creatures, easy amused with sexist remarks, and curious only in the superficial qualities of a trip (or holiday). Indeed, I found interest in adventuring around the tourist stops, and chatting to other people, particularly our local tour guide, Pablito - an Aymará-Bolivian, who is very knowledgeable about the terrain we explored, and very personable.
During the trip I was inspired to look at the possibility of hiring a campervan, or similar, and independently exploring Bolivia. The idea of journeying around, stopping where I please, and being self-reliant was a day dream I fell into more than once on the third day of the trip. Indeed, it made me question myself why I never did this back in Australia. Regardless, in the future I wanted to move away from the tour agencies, and seek alternative means.
The following day upon returning to Uyuni, I took an accident prone - flat tire, and a small collision that left a broken window - bus ride to Potosí, the capital of the department (state) which shares the same name. Potosí is said to be the highest city in the world, about 4,000 above sea level. The streets are, at first, a mountain climbing experience, where little old ladies pass you by, as the altitude requires some time to adjust. Conquered by the Spanish in the 16th century, it still retains the marvellous colonial arquitecture.
I had arrived in the evening, and immediately felt that it was worth staying longer than what is customary; the sensation of being in a different country is palpable here, small towns can seem alike after a while. I had acquired a comfortable private bedroom for about $6 US, which facilitated the urge to stay longer in Potosí. However, in the end, it was out of necessity that I extended my stay in Potosí as I caught a pernicious stomach virus that left me completely debilitated in bed for a day, and which I have not fully recovered from.
Discovering the mines of Potosí is a must when you visit this historical capital. I was given a contact from of a union organiser in one of the mines; unfortunately, due to my illness I was unable to visit him. Instead, I did a tour (yes, so much for seeking the alternative). However, it was fortunate that the day when I went to do the tour there were only two other tourists, therefore, we had the luxury of having the guide to ourselves. The tour lasted about 4 hours.
Historically, the birth of global capitalism can be attributed to Cerro Potosí, or Cerro Rico. The veins of silver that were exploited flowed to Spain, and from there to Europe, and later to North America. The altars of Catholic churches where constructed with the silver and gold from these mountains. The mines were exploited by slave labour, at times Indigenous, but when exhausted hands died - it is said that over 8 million slaves died during the colonial centuries - the Spanish viceroy would order slaves from Africa to maintain precious supplies to Europe. During the peak of the silver exploitations by the Spanish, the city of Potosí grew to about 160,000 inhabitants, and was, at one point, one of the largest cities in the world, far bigger than London or Paris. The old sayings goes that with all the silver extracted from Potosí during the colonial period one could build a silver bridge between Potosí and Spain, and by the same means, the old saying continues, it could be built with the bones of the dead that can be found in the mountains.
During the early part of the 20th century the mines of Bolivia were concentrated into three families, or the three barrons as they were known. However, after the National Revolution of 1952 the natural resources were expropriated into state property. Today, the Cerro Potosí mines are exploited by nominal 'cooperatives', which are essentially exploitative and capitalistic local companies. Cerro Potosí employs 17,000 miners, 2,000 of them are young boys. The minimum hours of work are said to be 8, but many miners may work up to 15 hours a day (however, I was told that they only work 4 days a week). A miner is fortunate to see life beyond 40, and if he manages to escape work at the mines he may not escape the respiratory dieases that acompany. A miner will earn on average about $23 US a day. To be a miner is considered to be in a good job.
The day after the tour I decided to leave Potosí for the former capital of Bolivia, Sucre in the department of Chuquisaca. I had spent six nights in Potosí, and on Sunday morning, June 1 - still questioning the choice to have fried chicken when I hadn't fully recovered from the food poisioning the day prior - I was determined to take the bus out of Potosí. I felt a change of scenery would rejuvenate me, but I had the three hour bus trip to contend with first. During the bus trip, I was struggling to contain stomach twists, and, to say the least, the campensino (farmer) that sat beside, who smelt of grass and country, was probably not thinking he had me to deal with. But when the bus was climbing a mountain, my will, and stomach collapsed, and I reached for my plastic bag - let's just say I found a way to get a spare seat. Shortly thereafter, I passed out until the bus reached Sucre, relieved of the pain.
I am currently in Sucre, enjoying the company of a group of travellers that I befriended. I have only been here a few days, and do not feel the need to rush to see everything, rather taking my time, delighting in the tranquility of Sucre. However, perhaps by the end of the week I will be on the road again looking towards Cochabamba, a 12 hour bus ride away; but I plan on taking a few days on getting there. Who knows, maybe I'll find that campervan to get me there.
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Photos
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=40889&l=92453&id=732774973
Cities I have visited
Odyssey visits
