Potosí, land of the miners

To start this post, I will quickly note the most prominant parts of mine and Franklins little adventure while max was staying in Arequipa. Firstly, we caught a 6am bus to Puno from Arequipa, seeing some gorgeous scenery along the way and herds of wild Vicuñas, a llama like creature whos hair is so fine it was used only for the clothes of the incan kings. Well, I saw some lovely scenery, while Franklin and a local lady used their feet to hold a cover over a massive hole in the bus, through which you could see the engine below. The only other noteworthy point of that trip was the communal toilet stop on the altiplano, when everyone on the bus to random places on the altiplano to, well, you know... When we arrived in puno, we found a hostal and went to explore the city, famous for being on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the highest lake of its size in the world. We then explored some markets, where I bought a fedora and Franklin made a woman cry with his hard line bartering. Our time in Puno was over when we caught the 6am bus to Desaguadero (the border town) the next morning. After a relativly easy crossing (I had to pay a ´fine´ for loosing my paper visa, no big deal in South America), we met a friendly Bolivian ´business man´, although we never found out his business. We then caught a bus and headed to Tiwanaku, the base of one of the largest civilisations in South America. It was here that we realised how cheap Bolivia was going to be, as Franklins Model of the large Ponce (don´t laugh) cost just 50p. A Combi then took us into La Paz, during which time we learnt that locals do get car sick, and not all locals speak spanish. La Paz itself, we found, is an exciting city to say the least, full of large plazas, colonial buildings and very dangerous road crossings. Our tatics for crossing roads in La Paz were to stand behind larger Bolivians (or better yet police men) or just run and hope. During the next few days, we went to a few museums, walked up a 5400 metre mountain (although we were driven 5300 metres of the way up) and saw the Valley of the Moon, a valley full of weirdly eroded rocks. We then met up with Max, and did the whole ´road of death´ thing.
Anyway, back to the main story. After a dinner of ´Heart Attack´ pizza pie or llama steak pizza, we headed back to the hostal, and the next day took a 6 hour bus to Potosí, a city which was once one of the biggest and most profitable in the world. This was due to the large mountain overlooking the city, which was once full of silver and other precious minerals. However, these days are long gone, and due to the way it was run hundreds of years ago, none of the profits from the mine went to the miners or the city. Nowadays, the miners work for themselves in family groups, which is more beneficial. We stayed in dorms on the top floor on the hotal, which is a pretty tiring climb when the city itself is above 4000 metres above sea level. Here we met 2 dutch guys who had just come from Sucre, and had warned us about the riots going on at that time, and a French girl called Margo. we decided to go for dinner, where we got proper llama steaks, and then for a drink. A word to the wise - anyone who wants as llama steak should have a large collection of toothpicks ready. The next day started like any other, with us exploring the city. I then went back to watch the football, along with some fellow Brits, 3 Mancs and a Cockney. The beers started flowing during the football and film which followed, to the point that by the time we went for dinner I was not at my most, well, you catch my drift. I can recall very little of that night, but apparently I was a barrel of laughs, high-fiving tramps, asking peoples names again and again, telling a story, apologising for repeating myself, then starting all over again. The 2 things I have absolutly NO recollection of is having a 5 minute conversation with the waiter about the way I wanted my steak cooked, and ordering a bottle of water for ´table Alex´. Franklin very kindly escorted me back to the hostal, where a good nights sleep helped me return to my normal self. The next day was a rest day for myself, whilst the other went to various museums and markets, where instead of purchasing the cow heads for sale, they bought CDs and DVDs for ridiculously cheap prices. After that, it was time for our trip to the mines...
The Potosí mining trip experince is a fantastic one, but not the sort of one you ever do again. It starts with getting mine-suited up, wearing protective trousers, jacket, helmet, torch and boots. After this a trip to the miners market is in order, where for $3 you buy dynamite, ammonuim nitrate, a fuse and a soft drink. This is your standard present for a family of miners. Our group also bought a few sticks of dynamite extra, for a little ´celebratory party´ after the mines. You then go to the refinery, where you stand uncomfortably close to liquid Cyanide, which is used to separate the percious minerals from the useless rock. Then it´s into the mines proper, a place not reccomended for claustraphobes (no problems there) or asthmatics (ah...). The mines are as you would expect; dark, dusty and dangerous. Pipes of air are used to provide oxygen for the lowest levels, and miners aged from 14 to 40 work there, although if you last 20 years you are considered very lucky. Our tour took us to the 4 main levels, where miners work for 50 pounds a month shoveling, transporting or dynamiting the rubble looking for silver, lead or other minerals. It was a tough but amazing experience, one that I would reccomend doing, but just the once. Again thanks should go to Efra, our guide who, at the end, gave us Conac and blew up excess dynamite.