Potosi and Mine Tour

After a short 3-hour bus ride from Sucre, we arrived in Potosi, or the self-proclaimed highest city in the world. The elevation was fairly intense at 4200 meters, but also manageable since we have been at some pretty high elevations in Bolivia, and have been chewing the ubiquitous coca leaves. The city wasn’t as picturesque as Sucre, but it had a lot of unique characteristics from its mining economy and violent colonial history. The downtown was fairly simple, but most impressive was the Casa de Monedas which flanked the main plaza. The huge colonial fortress stood fairly imposing next to the smaller colorful government buildings next to it. Farther down the street was the typical labyrinth of market stalls, where most basic merchandise and food could be found. On our second night we were very excited to make our own food! We made our own vegetable soup from scratch (which definitely helped Ivan’s recovering tummy…).

We happened to be in Potosi during Dia de Los Muertos and Dia de los Santos. The city was fairly quiet on the Saints day, but became quite a party during Dia de los Muertos. We visited the cemetery in the morning and witnessed several ceremonies honoring the dead. Interestingly each gravesite (for those who could afford one…) was its own filing cabinet and altar which could be accessed by the family paying their respects. It was very fascinating to see that nearly every gravesite was bedecked with flowers and significant items. Most of the families (especially the men) were looped on the milky chicha that was being poured everywhere. Bands could be hired for a song or two which the family would sing along with for the dead family member. Afterwards we enjoyed some excellent coffee and a fun dice game that Mark and Laura taught us at a cozy café.

Main Plaza

View of Cerro Rico from town

On Thursday the 4^th we did an amazing tour of the Cerro Rico mine. We decided to tour with a new company called The Real Deal, where all of the guides were ex-mineros. Our guide Pedro, not Pedo!, was incredibly knowledgeable and had a fantastic sense of humor. He reassured Ivan that his minor Closter-phobia would be manageable in the mine, which would only have a couple spaces where crawling was necessary. We toured with Mark, Laura, their two British friends Tom and Amy, as well as a nice girl from Salt Lake City (whose 5’2’’ height was a huge plus on the tour!!). After suiting up in our very hot rubber suits and boots, we hopped in a rickety van and made our way up to the miners market. Here we bought dynamite, ammonium nitrate to augment the dynamite, potent cane sugar alcohol, and gifts like soda and coca leaves for the miners. It was remarkable how casually and how cheap explosives were sold for! After buying several gifts (and explosives for ourselves!) we headed up to the silver refinery.

Dynamite for everyone!!!

Pedro, our exciting tour guide

The refinery was a very noisy place, where stinky volatile chemicals were mixed into churning mud. The chemicals were inexactly dripped, our poured, into the sludge that came out of a roaring rotary grinder and then beaten with rotating paddles. The overall result of this 3^rd world cacophony was a very small amount of silver floating on the top of a collection tub. Our guide later told us that the miners seriously refer to their mountain as Cerro Pobre… After all of the effort of the miners and the refinery, very little silver seemed to be made. Kristin cringed as she watched the chemical sludge being poured into a drain with destination unknown. Also to the fact of not knowing if the 20 minutes allotted in the refinery would cause future health problems. Outside of the refinery we talked to some good-natured miners who were thankful for the coca leaves and the cute girls to shamelessly flirt with.

Panning for silver

Sharing coca leaves

After the refinery it was time for the actual mine. Our mine was called Mina Rosaria, which is one of the oldest mine shafts. It still had the rock reinforcement from the colonial era (nice because Ivan could stand up straight here!). Once our eyes adjusted, they followed the beam from our headlamps as we picked our way along the muddy floor. All were grateful for the bandanas guarding our heaving mouths from the extreme dust that was floating everywhere. As we made our way deeper into the mountain, the temperature slowly began to rise and the air seemed thicker. After walking through mine shafts that hobbits would have found discomfortingly low, we found the Tio, or Uncle of the mine. The Tio is a bit like the devil, but the indigenous workers say that God is for outside in the sunlight, and the Tio protects them inside the dark mine. Amazingly, since 1982 only 26 miners and 1 tourist have been claimed by the Tio. Here we gave an offering of coca leaves and sugar cane alcohol to the Tio to beseech safe mining, rich ore, happy travels and many girlfriends. After the thanks were made, Pedro insisted we try the alcohol (a mere 96% of ridiculous mouth-numbing potency…). Only a tiny sip was imbibed to appreciate just how much alcohol was needed for miners to alleviate the fact that their job was truly killing them (it was so potent that some of the nasty substance evaporated as we carefully sipped it). With mouths and esophagus’s on absolute fire, we continued on to the newer parts of the mine where miners were still slaving away. Here the mine was very warm, which wasn’t to comfortable in our rubber suits (between 35-40 C). However, before we could begin to lament our sweaty everything, a thundering mine cart rounded the corner with workers pushing the heavy ore at a jog. We quickly jumped against the wall as the cart thundered by with 3 workers leaning into it. Their mouths bulged with coca leaves and shouts in Quechua for us to get our gringo butts out of the way! The entire shaft shook when the cart came by, and its thundering could be heard before we even saw the miners headlamps. Further into the mine (about 1.3 km in!) we found men toiling with the ore. Here they furiously shoveled (at rates that would merit them employment at Ever-Bloom) the dusty ore into big cisterns that were hoisted up to the next level to be carried out of the mine. Ivan and Mark gave the miners a rest and took a turn shoveling the heavy dirt into the large container. Even with fresh arms and backs, they could barely keep up with the incredible pace and expectation of the crew. The dirt stung their eyes and throats, and the elevation and heat didn’t make matters easier. After just 5 minutes of work, both were more than willing to pass the undersized shovels back to the impatient workers.

At the mine entrance

Look! Sulfur!

Colonial mine shaft!

Tight crawl spaces....

El Tio, and his favorite drink...

Ivan's not so favorite drink....

The only thing that shook louder than the mine cart, was the unexpected dynamite explosion. The explosion roared through the mine tunnels and approached us with a wave of dust and gun-powdery smoke. We had to walk and duck through 50 yards of this acrid cloud. Our eyes, throats, and noses burnt as we could hardly pass through. Suddenly, the air cleared and we saw 3 miners sitting and relaxing as they enjoyed their coca leaf lunch. We learned the previous explosion was caused by them and according to Pedro even with the aid of dynamite it takes 6-8 hrs to clear out a cubic meter in the mine. WOW!

Mark and Ivan trying to be manly...

The miners work 8-10 hours per day and subsist only on coca leaves, water, and soda during their work day. Though there are hundreds of mine shafts, most are divided up between mining co-ops or private companies. The co-op miners work for themselves and are paid by the amount of ore and by its quality, meaning they work whatever hours they want, but are at the whims of market prices and the quality of the ore they toil to extract. In the private mines (much less common), workers are paid a small wage regardless of quality, required to work set hours, but are provided with minimal health coverage for such a dangerous job. Co-ops are more popular because miners have a small chance to strike it rich if they chance upon some silver-laden ore; however, given the mine’s new name Cerro Pobre, the chances of this are very slim.

After 2 hours in the mine, we were grateful to be outside breathing fresh air and warmed by the sun. With 2 sticks of dynamite remaining, Pedro had us roll the explosive puddy into a ball which he stuck the 3 foot fuse into. However, just plain dynamite isn’t powerful enough, so he placed that ball into a bag of ammonium nitrate. The fuse lasts for 3-4 minutes before it explodes. Nonchalantly walking down the hill with 2 hissing bombs, Pedro then began a serious of push-ups over the sputtering dynamite. One minute later the impressive bombs exploded throwing dust and debris all around. Impressed we hopped back on the van and headed back into town ready for a cold soda or beer for our parched throats. Definitely an unforgettable experience!! (wish we could upload the video of the explosions!!!)

Bolivian play-dough

Fire in the hole!!

The following day we toured the Casa de Monedas to see where the imperialist Spaniards made their silver currency. The process was incredibly involved, and almost as difficult as extracting the ore from the mountainside. The giant oak gears (brought from Spain) were turned by 4 mules on the floor underneath. The gears turned different sized rollers, which the silver bars were fed through. Once a specified thickness the coins were cut out and then pressed into their appropriate currency. Each individual coin was said to take 1-3 hours of work. The Casa could hammer out 2,000 coins per day, which were loaded onto armed galleys and shipped to Spain. After the Spaniards left, the Casa de Monedas was used until the 1980’s to print coins of dictators, and ‘democratic’ politicians alike. It was interesting to learn that all the lower Boliviano coins like the 10cent to 2b’s were made in Chile, and the 5b’s coin is made in Canada (it looks exactly like a loonie!).

Recognize this lathe, Hunter??

After 4 nights in Potosi, we took the evening bus with our 4 British mates to Uyuni for a 4 day tour of the salt flats and beyond….

Sucre-mania

October 31^{st - A Happy Ghoulish Halloweenie to you all!}

We are soaking in the sights, sounds, smells and culture of the colonial city, Sucre. Since the moment we arrived, we have noticed that Sucre has a more festive and warm vibe than the other cities we have visited in Bolivia. Cars will slow down for pedestrians, the central plaza is well taken care of and most to all the benches are filled throughout the day and evening, siesta (noon-3pm) is taken seriously, parades are common to see in the evening with marching bands and young adults and teenagers dancing in the streets, the weather has been absolutely beautiful (a high of 27C day, low of 15C night) and even the ice cream is great (the best we had in all of SA and usually enjoyed at least once, sometimes twice a day)! According to the Governmental Code, all buildings in the downtown sector must be whitewashed annually, giving the buildings a very clean colonial feeling. Also, all the roofs in Sucre have red tiles, making downtown reminiscent of Santa Barbara.

Beginning yesterday afternoon, festivities of both Halloween and Dia de los Muertos began with a bang! (LOTS and LOTS of fireworks) The main streets throughout Sucre began filling with locals and tourists with the anticipation of some sort of parade. Around 6pm the marching bands began their circuits, dressed in costume and playing their instruments with full force. The march bands, firework explosions, noise lasted until the wee hours in the morning. Though Ivan did not get to enjoy this festive evening, he was still able to hear the bands and explosions from the balcony at our hotel (see why below).

After visiting Casa de la Libertad, we learned that Sucre is the official capital in Bolivia, but holds no power, expect for an ineffectual Supreme Court. In the mid-1800s, the established oligarchy of the New World decided it no longer wanted to be beholden to the crown of Spain. These white, wealthy lawyers and aristocrats incited a civil war in which the poor masses had no choice but to fight a bloody war against the Spaniards. Bolivia was the very first uprising against Spain, but Argentina was the first country to gain true independence from Spain. So sadly, once the Spaniards were out of Bolivia, the purported freedom fighters continued the harsh tradition of La Meta or indentured servitude for the population that just won their war. The museum estimated that in Potosi alone 9,000,000 miners perished in a 300-year period of forced labor and abysmal conditions. Bolivia’s painful inception is still ever present in the country of today where there has been a new president on average every year and a half (even though they are supposed to be 5 year terms…oops!) ((Though this country is a little less than 100 years younger that the USA, it has had 22 more Presidents…wowzers!!)) Ironically, Bolivia’s yellow, red and green flag is very similar to the Spanish flag, which had held the dominion over them for so many years. The tradition of corruption is why the political power is in La Paz, rather than remaining in Sucre. The silver industry and tin industry began a north and south feud for political sway. Tin or La Paz, won this tug-of-war and took unequal power for themselves (and rewrote the constitution...). Sucre still proudly, though somewhat lamely, declares that it is the “true” capital of Bolivia.

Another interesting piece of information is the new law that was passed that is a controversial attempt to stop all forms of racism and prejudice. The law was inspired by a similar one passed in Venezuela, which prohibits anyone from using any racial or prejudicial epithets. For example: If in a fit of road rage (which is extremely common) you call someone a “cholo de mierda” (their version of the N-word) and if a policeman would overhear this (or one of the road raggers tattletale) would result in not only in jail time, but a substantial fine. ((*Ed’s colorful mouth would not survive in Bolivia* Bolivia has forced a “Hagis filter”!)) This law has many people countering that it is a violation of free speech and undemocratic. Perhaps this is why the President of Iran has visited the Country 3 times in the past year…(as a funny aside, Iran funded a public hospital in a poor district in La Paz, however the Catholic nurses are REQUIRED to wear the black berka’s at all times…what a confusing world we live in!)

During one of our adventures though the city, we spotted a flyer for volunteering to teach English and learn Spanish. We ventured to the school, which happened to be a block away from our hotel, and signed up. Kristin decided to take 3-hour one-on-one Spanish lessons for a few days, while Ivan would volunteer to teach English to children (2 students) for an hour lesson on Thursday and help set-up for a Halloween party Friday.

Kristin thoroughly enjoyed her Spanish lessons, and had a close bond with her professor as they would both exchange cultural similarities and differences in Spanish. Many subjects included childhood, family, relationships, university, politics, religion, homosexuals, corruption, traveling, etc…literally all encompassing lessons. Kristin was able to bring back many interesting facts, insight and knowledge to share with Ivan after her daily lessons. Her teacher was very encouraging as he said her Spanish conversation was much better than she led on to believe. Kristin would like to continue classes in a future city as well as continue practicing with both locals and Ivan. These few, but extremely enriching lessons will serve to be a platform for building more of the Spanish language, which Kristin is finding to be quite beautiful.

The English lesson that Ivan gave was small and informal, but the students were bright and fairly engaged. The teacher that Ivan was working with handed him the reins immediately and with just seconds to look at the workbook started the one-hour lesson. Ivan was able to teach them numbers and different foods. For some reason, the boy was so excited to learn the word “dog biscuit” that he fell backwards in his chair. Towards the end of the hour, the very shy, young girl opened up and asked many great questions. The next day, Ivan’s substantial height difference was exploited for several hours to help hang Halloween decorations for the upcoming evening party. It was fun working with the kids to prepare for a dance party that meant so much to them.

FOOD! COMIDA! FOOD! COMIDA!

Primer Parte

We planned this trip, to not only be enriched by the South American people and sights, but to be fully versed in the language of eating! We have been spoiling ourselves with food from the beginning, but this past week in Sucre, we have really taken it up a belt notch!!! At the start of almost every meal, we have enjoyed a wide range of homemade soups. One of our favorites is a chicken-based quinoa vegetable soup. Very hardy and healing like Mom intended. A local’s breakfast favorite is the Saltena. The saltena is a larger version of the empanada, usually stuffed with chicken chunks, cooked egg and beef stew and thoroughly enjoyed by both of us. Recently, we found a bustling Dutch restaurant that not only had great coffee (thankfully!), but fantastic cruquets with fries! Of course, we ordered a large beer to go with it. (MUUUY HOLANDES!) Then the other night, Ivan experienced true dinner fondue for the first time! Ivan giggled like a small child while throwing the tender raw meat chunks and veggies into the flaming hot oil on our table. A glass of wine and four platters of veggies, meat and cheese later, Ivan and Kristin could hardly stand (no cabemos ni un alfiler) as they paid for their delicious meal ($12). The next evening was an even bigger treat, a recommendation by Kristin’s Spanish professor to go to a local French Restaurant. Initially, Ivan was very skeptical after experiencing the inhospitable food of Paris that was served with a profound frown and flaring nose. However, the meal was phenomenal!! Kristin started with the creamy, festive pumpkin squash soup (on par with Lorelei's festive soup! YUM), which quickly became her new favorite, while Ivan enjoyed his hardy beef noodle soup. Accompanying the soup were endless breadbaskets, this may not seem like a big deal, however, typically you are lucky to receive more than 4 pieces of bread in your basket during one sitting. To continue, the suave French Restaurant also included REAL olive oil on the table –a real treat for us since most restaurants offer only cheap oil vegetable oil!!! Next came the main course, Kristin ordered the popular Filet Mignon with bits of rosemary cheese and chives stuffed inside and reduced in red wine and mushroom and Ivan ordered the chicken reduced in white wine and mushrooms. Also, a half bottle of Campos de Solana, a local Bolivian wine shared between the two. This meal is on par with many fancy restaurants in found in Santa Barbara or Sacramento, the only difference being, we paid a whopping $24 for everything!

Ivan (el aguasfiesta) has caught yet another food-born illness, completely proving that the raw cheese is laced with poison (saying this with conviction as his stomach is turning and tossing around on the cheap mattress) Lesson learned…again…

On Monday, if Ivan is feeling better, we will be heading to Potosi, the highest city in the world and silver mining capital! (we are finding that we are going to so many places that claim they are the “highest”, “largest”, “deepest”, “smallest”, etc…in the world…exciting, YES!).

Hardcore buses and dinosaurs

October 25th we hopped on the 7:30 pm bus (that predictably left at 8:30). We are only mentioning this bus ride because we think it has and will be the most intense 3rd world bus we will EVER experience. Within 25 min of leaving the station (a zoo of speeding buses and milling people), we stopped, or actually the bus driver stopped, for a 30 min dinner that only he enjoyed while everyone was too fearful to dine themselves (in fear of being left behind). Once we were back on track Ivan was able to talk to a local coca farmer about his business, which was super fascinating. Apparantly there are 4 cosechas per year, and a 50 pound bag will earn the farmer 1,000 bolivianos, or $2.85 per pound (pretty good money for a small time farmer). Even more interesting, was that his crop wasn't for chewing or tea, but rather the popular cocaina. Bolivia is actually the biggest producer of the leaves, which all make there way to Colombia to get processed (CNN and Reagan drilled the rest of the story into common knowledge). As a shameless aside: going for drugs at the "source" is not only expensive, impossible, and unethical, but so futilely American...

Anyways, the bus bounced on, and the humidity and accompanying BO kicked to dizzying levels, but we tried to get some hard to reach z's anyways. This was basically impossible, since the bus route was on an off-road track, and we found ourselves involuntarily headbanging and bouncing in our seats. Fortunate for Kristin, the evil bus deity found it necissary to keep her on her toes and flung a heavy bag onto her stomach right when she fell asleep... It didn't help that it was Ivan's bag... An hour later that SAME bag flung one seat farther and smacked Ivan square in the face. awesome...

To make the bus ride even more memorable, Ivan had the ONLY seat that couldnt recline, and was broken, so it constantly tried to spill him out into the isle. Not too easy to sleep under such back bending circumstances... Though every seat was taken by adults, there were about 10 kids who were passed out in different contortions on the dirty bus isle (along with a dog and small lamby). Ivan wasnt able to stretch out his feet, unless he wanted to plant his shoe on a poor childs face. (Kristin didnt even have the option with a fully reclined seat in front of her, and had a teenager snoring and sliding into her seat. The sly Bolivian cuddle technique...

At 6:00 am the bus suddenly stopped, and everyone was allowed to go out and relieve themselves for a quick 2 min. Ivan ventured out, and saw a very desperate urinating melee, with men, women, and children using their appropriate biological urinating endowments with fury... It was a mess, but what a relief!!



At 7:30 am we arrived in Sucre, stumbled into a taxi, and then into our squeaky taco shaped bed. When we awoke, we started to tour the beautiful (and very colonial) city of Sucre. The main plaza is really great, and the city has a productive and safe feel to it.




Today we went to the worlds largest collection of dinosaur (bird and reptile) footprints. We learned we were witnessing tracks from the Cretaceous Period over 70 million years ago, when the herbivores and carnivores roamed the chalky CaCO3 lands. There were 5,000 footprints from over 150 different animals on this surface. The largest footprints were guessed to be from a dino that was 35 m long and 19 m tall. YIKES! The footprints were on a vertical surface due to the continental uplift that happened millions of years ago from the Nazca Plate in the Pacific. This upward movement and folding is also why we have the Andes Mountains

Ohh so fierce!!

Prints from mama and baby carnivore

Ivan dodging some Dino-doody

The dino prints were discovered by the enormous cement factory on site 25 years ago. The minerals that they were excavating changed and weren't ideal, so the company moved to another part of the mountain. As a consequence of this, the prints were preserved and were slowly revealed to the amazed workers who were excavating nearby. Today there is a fairly large exhibit and looks upon the varied prints that criss-cross the adjacent hillside.

It was an incredible feeling witnessing these large tracks from millions of years ago. Even though couldn't get close to the wall of footprints we daydreamed the size of these animals as the marched, ran, ambled and fought across the lands swinging their tails.