potosi
The border crossing was a hive of human beings ferrying impossible loads on their backs back and forth across the border. And I mean, heavy loads. Judging by some of them, 20kg or 30kg. Little women, little boys. What a sight. It struck me that it was probably cheaper to use humans than a donkey or a truck. The ladies have different headwear too. Bowler hats, fancy that!
One thing I liked about Bolivia before I knew much about the place is Evo Morales. The first indigeous head of state of a South American country. He´s his own man and he sticks it to the yanks as well. Always scores highly in my books that one. But he´s got a hard job. Bolivia is South America´s poorest country.
Potosi stands at almost 4000 metres above sea level. It is the highest city of its size in the world. Cue : altitude sickness. For me, that meant walking around at snail pace, occasional headaches, recurrent pins and needles in my limbs and dizzyness. Walking up stairs is a real chore too. It isn´t very pleasant but it shouldn´t last that long unless you´re unlucky. For me I adjusted after 24 hours. Besides I didn´t really follow medical advice as I went on the lash on my first night there.
So why would anyone want to live there? The answer is simple, silver. And there was lots of it. It was the biggest silver mine of its day. Beside the town is a towering mountain called Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain). There, the Spanards filled their coffers for centuries. Oh and some eight million indigeous people died for it too over the those years. No one ever talks about them. But then some have a monopoly of suffering and others don´t matter.
They´re still mining today but as a ´collective´. Whatever that means. To me, it means poor Bolivians with no other options digging away for scraps of ore. Maybe mindful that life expectancy in the mines is 15 years. With all the sulphur and other nasty chemicals knocking about they will eventaully succumb to a horrible terminal disease. But there are tours for rich tourists like me! Pay the $10 to the operator and bring along some ´gifts´. Fags, coco leaves, candles, etc. I wasn´t comfortable with that. I suppose it´s another example of dark tourism. Meet Juan, have a photo taken with him covered in poisonous dust and show the folks back home.
The town is full of dogs. Not really random ones but on our journey to Potosi we stopped at an isolated spot for lunch, one turned up to wander about our preparation area. Oh and Potosi was where I had my first run in with a fellow tour member. Apparently, on the first night I was there, the night I had gone on the lash I had returned to the hotel room and used the toilet. It took, we´ll call him Tristen, 24 hours to muster the guts to tell me this - I didn´t flush the toilet! Holy Moly! I´m sure he´s seen a lot worse in public school or maybe he was too busying buggering his school mates to notice.
One thing I liked about Bolivia before I knew much about the place is Evo Morales. The first indigeous head of state of a South American country. He´s his own man and he sticks it to the yanks as well. Always scores highly in my books that one. But he´s got a hard job. Bolivia is South America´s poorest country.
Potosi stands at almost 4000 metres above sea level. It is the highest city of its size in the world. Cue : altitude sickness. For me, that meant walking around at snail pace, occasional headaches, recurrent pins and needles in my limbs and dizzyness. Walking up stairs is a real chore too. It isn´t very pleasant but it shouldn´t last that long unless you´re unlucky. For me I adjusted after 24 hours. Besides I didn´t really follow medical advice as I went on the lash on my first night there.
So why would anyone want to live there? The answer is simple, silver. And there was lots of it. It was the biggest silver mine of its day. Beside the town is a towering mountain called Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain). There, the Spanards filled their coffers for centuries. Oh and some eight million indigeous people died for it too over the those years. No one ever talks about them. But then some have a monopoly of suffering and others don´t matter.
They´re still mining today but as a ´collective´. Whatever that means. To me, it means poor Bolivians with no other options digging away for scraps of ore. Maybe mindful that life expectancy in the mines is 15 years. With all the sulphur and other nasty chemicals knocking about they will eventaully succumb to a horrible terminal disease. But there are tours for rich tourists like me! Pay the $10 to the operator and bring along some ´gifts´. Fags, coco leaves, candles, etc. I wasn´t comfortable with that. I suppose it´s another example of dark tourism. Meet Juan, have a photo taken with him covered in poisonous dust and show the folks back home.
The town is full of dogs. Not really random ones but on our journey to Potosi we stopped at an isolated spot for lunch, one turned up to wander about our preparation area. Oh and Potosi was where I had my first run in with a fellow tour member. Apparently, on the first night I was there, the night I had gone on the lash I had returned to the hotel room and used the toilet. It took, we´ll call him Tristen, 24 hours to muster the guts to tell me this - I didn´t flush the toilet! Holy Moly! I´m sure he´s seen a lot worse in public school or maybe he was too busying buggering his school mates to notice.
posted by Ciarán at 4:30 p.m.
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