fresh n juicy chunks of oyster :: RTW travel blog

Two things have changed in the last week: 1. I am not travelling alone anymore but have teamed up with a lass from Patagonia, and 2. I am in Bolivia, moving at breakneck pace.
Because I love stating the obvious here goes: Bolivia is a completely different animal from Argentina (possibly a llama). It is spectacular here, full of contrasts, wild places that have an unexplored feel about them and one hell of a colourful carnival.

We crossed into Villazon, Bolivia late at night last Monday (a perfect, unprotected little border for drug runs or getting drunk with the guards) and walked right into the carnival with our backpacks. Amazing constumed parades were dancing down the street and folklore and symbolism was rife. The night was topped off with a wild disco night, Bolivian village style. Good stuff.
The next day we hung around Villazon and got pissed for free as everywhere we went - from the border immigration office to bus ticket offices to random places in the street - drunk party people would be forcing us to down glasses of beer and spirits. Sweet!
I honestly don't think I've ever met such hospitable people who genuinely seem to be interested in you - then again maybe they've all just had a few.
That night a bus took us to Potosí. Even though I had a seat I suffered badly. Bolivians aren't particularly tall and correspondingly their buses have 10cm of legroom. Neither do they seem to have sufficient supply to meet demand for bus travel - there were a good 20 people standing and sleeping in the aisles - I was trapped on all sides and DVT seemed a real possibility. But I mustn't complain - at least I didn't stand for 8 hours that night.
I also suspected from the carnival decorations on the bus and the state of the ticket office and its staff earlier that the bus driver was enjoying the ride over the unpaved dirt road in a state of mild intoxication, fulfilling his rally driver fantasies. Hell it was carnival, everyone was allowed to have fun!
Potosí doesn't really celebrate carnival in a major fashion but it is a very interesting town that was once made rich by silver mining and now survives mostly through tourism.
The first day we set off on a trek through the nearby highlands but I didn't get very far. With the town at around 4100m and the trek at 4500m the altitude sucker-punched me right in the chest and winded me after a short climb. My pulse hammered with the frequency of a pneumatic drill.
Since then my blood has become juicier (or something) and I've learnt how to handle climbing stairs like an old man.
So the next day we were ready for the physical exertion of a tour of the collective mines (e.g. no company owns the mine but collectives of miners rent space from the government). Being a miner in Potosí has to be one of the hardest jobs on earth: working on their own, darkness all day, narrow, cold, wet tunnels, Coca laeves as the only sustenance, frequent lethal accidents and a toxic atmosphere that has a serious effect on life expectancy.
It was a different world we had entered into, a world that was hard to properly comprehend. Making a true connection with the miners was difficult. We brought them Coca leaves, cigarettes, cookies and dynamite as gifts which seemed to be appreciated and also necessary, as mining is not very profitable anymore these days. The miners depend on tourists to lighten the financial load of their working materials.
I attempted to help Don Felipe, my namesake and an old, experienced miner, with drilling a hole for inserting the dynamite but after a minute of hammering my heart was pounding out of my chest again. My blood wasn't juicy enough yet and with my tail between my legs I admitted defeat, knowing full well Don Felipe would be doing hours more of the same work today to make a living.
It was an experience I can't quite describe but somehow I was left feeling that the world is a very, very complicated place indeed.
Very aware of our privileged position, we made our way towards a hot spring to relax while the miners were still underground grinding away. After putting those thoughts aside the hot spring was amazing. A large lake the temperature of a bathtub, outside it was nice and chilly. If I ever get a house give me a natural hot spring, damnit! It'd possibly be good to get a mine or two for humility's sake too.
Leaving all that behind we're taking a bus to Cochabamba tonight where on the weekend there'll be a massive carnival celebration. More costumes, dancing and foolishness undoubtedly. Maybe I can dress up as a llama or something...

[Pics have been uploaded, click here for Albums Bolivia 1 and 2.]