Arriving in the mountain-side town of Potosi was a little intimidating, the streets were narrow everybody looked at us in the big loud Dodge and with little in the way of maps we had trouble finding our hostel. Eventually though we got to know the city and found it had some charm as well as a very interesting and rich history.
Having booked one of the famous mine tours the previous day we woke up early scoffed our breakfast and hopped on the tour bus. Look at us doing a tour and riding on a bus just like a real tourist! First we stopped to get kitted out in our mining gear which included over pants, over shirt, helmet, head torch, gumboots and for those willing to pay an extra ten bolivianos a bandana/dust mask with a large penis bearing statue on it (more about that later). After a few laughs it was off to the miners market to buy the miners a gift for allowing us to visit their workplace. Others in the group brought coca leaves and 96% alcohol "whisky" while Will and I settled on buying a two litre coke and a stick of dynamite. Dynamite you say? Yes that's right you can buy real deal dynamite complete with a detonator and a small pack of ANFO. The temptation was too great and we all tried a swig of the warming "whisky" and some coca leaves before hopping back on the bus. Though Will and I have since decided coca leaves are not our thing especially not the black teeth. Next we stopped at one of the many inner city mineral processing/refining plants. It smelt strongly of the chemicals used to separate the raw elements and the equipment used was from the dark ages we couldn't imagine working there let alone living nearby as so many Potosi residents do. Finally the bus climbed its way up the mountain side of Cerro Rico to the mine entrance. We clicked on our head torches and walked with bent necks into the mine. At 4,570m it was already difficult to breathe then add the hot, dusty and muddy mine interior and a sprinkle of crawling through tight spaces and you can understand how this was not a tour for the faint hearted. However we really enjoyed it especially learning about the history of the 200 year old mine filled with so many shafts the whole thing is lucky to not yet have collapsed. We also learnt about all the small mining cooperatives that now mine the mountain after the large government run company shut up shop and about the silver they seek for the reward of money sometimes at the cost of their own health. In the mine we also visited El Tio a rather ugly statue with a rather large penis, who features on the dust mask bandanas most people on the tour had brought, we were instructed to give him offerings off coca leaves and cigarettes to ensure our safety in the mine. The guide also amused himself by talking the boys in the group into pushing the four remaining girls along the railway in a mine cart! Turns out it was up hill and the boys had a pretty hard time while we tried not to lose our heads on the low ceiling.
After the mine tour we had lunch with LA born and bred Cory and two French girls. We enjoyed a four course meal of the day for $6NZD which included Llama again for Will. Then continuing our tourist day Will, Corey and I went to the Casa Nacional de Moneda museum home to Bolivia's first mint for silver coin making and famous religious art works. Amazingly all the coin making machinery (including a stamp made by Da Vinci) had been left in its original working position and some very heavy machinery was sitting on some well worn original 1572 flooring. The english speaking guide was fantastic and we learnt a lot. That evening we drove 21km out of town to Ojo del Inca a natural thermal crater lake 100m across and 25m deep. Despite arriving after dark with a once again leaking radiator our day continued into the night after being invited into our neighbours Mitsubishi Delica Camper. We had a great night drinking local wine with Swiss couple Adi and Jana while hearing about each others travels.
The following morning Will applied even more poxilina to the radiator and added two more eggs. Then after a swim in the lake and some breakfast of oats which we were rapidly getting sick of we headed back to Potosi to pick up Corey for our journey to Sucre. Turns out Corey had made another friend that night who was also looking for a ride. It was a bit of a squash for us all and I got the front middle seat again but we fit in with just enough space to breath. After a few wrong turns we headed out of town praying the radiator would hold. Lucky it did and as we drove we learnt all about our newest passenger Mark. From England he has been traveling the world for the last six years without flying and had some very inspiring stories for us, we hoped to meet again.
Eventually we arrived in Sucre and dropped Mark off at his hostel but we kept Cory for one more night as his hostel was full. We then found our highly recommended accommodation in a secret inner city overlanders campground and who should be there but the Swiss couple Adi and Jana! Also there was an English couple Neil and Julie Bird (known as the overland birds www.overlandbirds.com) who had driven all the way from their home in Southern Yorkshire down through Africa and now South America in a decked out Land Rover Defender 110.
That night with Corey we went out for a mediocre dinner of rice, fries and crumbed chicken. But in the morning we headed into the huge food market just down the road with Corey and the Brits. It was lucky we had Corey with us to explain how all the stalls worked and to translate as he had been in Bolivia for a few months already. Most importantly we learnt that after you buy a glass of freshly made real fruit juice you can just give your glass back and get a top up free of charge! Why are the fresh juice bars in NZ so expensive compared to Bolivia and they are soooo good. While at the market we agreed with the Brits that we should have a big BBQ together back at the campground especially after hearing that our friends Thomas and Kathrin from Germany were also in Sucre. So we brought a chunk of meat and some tasty sausages for the grill. Later that day while discovering the town we even managed to bump into the Germans for the fourth completely random time on the trip so we headed up to a tourist lookout and spent the afternoon overlooking the city drinking beer and catching up. It was a lovely afternoon but soon enough it was back to the campground for the BBQ. The BBQ was a raging success once the boys got the carbon to light that is. The Germans mingled with the Swiss the English mingled with Mark who came despite his girlfriend being sick and we mingled with everyone while eating and drinking all you could ever want.
During our time in Sucre we also received via Facebook a lovely offer from my Aunty Karen and her husband Lorne for us to stay in their empty Santa Cruz apartment. At first we weren't wanting to drive all that way off our chosen route but the more we looked at the options for our broken radiator the more it made sense. So after some recommendations and looking at the map we decided to take up the offer and head to Santa Cruz via the Ruta del Che. This route is where the Argentinean born revolutionary Che Guevara lived for two years until his capture and subsequent execution in 1967. We had arranged to meet Alejandro, Lorne's colleague for the keys the next evening. However it turns out that the 579km trip to Santa Cruz actually takes around 16 hours to drive… particularly so after it pours down. After driving until 10pm and making it less than halfway we spent a thunderous night in the car on the side of the remote road. The nights deluge had transformed the road into a muddy and slippery mess, but the scenery and swollen rivers were spectacular. On one nasty corner we rescued a large truck from a ditch and just managed to pull it up the slick hill. Twenty four hours late we finally arrived in Santa Cruz, what a treat it was to meet the lovely English speaking Alejandro. He showed us to our beautiful apartment and left us to it for the night, promising to return in the morning to help us tackle our growing list of vehicle problems. After a big scrub up we slept like angles in a super king sized bed ready to face the perils of Bolivian car repairs in the morning.
Rochelle & Will
Eventually we arrived in Sucre and dropped Mark off at his hostel but we kept Cory for one more night as his hostel was full. We then found our highly recommended accommodation in a secret inner city overlanders campground and who should be there but the Swiss couple Adi and Jana! Also there was an English couple Neil and Julie Bird (known as the overland birds www.overlandbirds.com) who had driven all the way from their home in Southern Yorkshire down through Africa and now South America in a decked out Land Rover Defender 110.
That night with Corey we went out for a mediocre dinner of rice, fries and crumbed chicken. But in the morning we headed into the huge food market just down the road with Corey and the Brits. It was lucky we had Corey with us to explain how all the stalls worked and to translate as he had been in Bolivia for a few months already. Most importantly we learnt that after you buy a glass of freshly made real fruit juice you can just give your glass back and get a top up free of charge! Why are the fresh juice bars in NZ so expensive compared to Bolivia and they are soooo good. While at the market we agreed with the Brits that we should have a big BBQ together back at the campground especially after hearing that our friends Thomas and Kathrin from Germany were also in Sucre. So we brought a chunk of meat and some tasty sausages for the grill. Later that day while discovering the town we even managed to bump into the Germans for the fourth completely random time on the trip so we headed up to a tourist lookout and spent the afternoon overlooking the city drinking beer and catching up. It was a lovely afternoon but soon enough it was back to the campground for the BBQ. The BBQ was a raging success once the boys got the carbon to light that is. The Germans mingled with the Swiss the English mingled with Mark who came despite his girlfriend being sick and we mingled with everyone while eating and drinking all you could ever want.
During our time in Sucre we also received via Facebook a lovely offer from my Aunty Karen and her husband Lorne for us to stay in their empty Santa Cruz apartment. At first we weren't wanting to drive all that way off our chosen route but the more we looked at the options for our broken radiator the more it made sense. So after some recommendations and looking at the map we decided to take up the offer and head to Santa Cruz via the Ruta del Che. This route is where the Argentinean born revolutionary Che Guevara lived for two years until his capture and subsequent execution in 1967. We had arranged to meet Alejandro, Lorne's colleague for the keys the next evening. However it turns out that the 579km trip to Santa Cruz actually takes around 16 hours to drive… particularly so after it pours down. After driving until 10pm and making it less than halfway we spent a thunderous night in the car on the side of the remote road. The nights deluge had transformed the road into a muddy and slippery mess, but the scenery and swollen rivers were spectacular. On one nasty corner we rescued a large truck from a ditch and just managed to pull it up the slick hill. Twenty four hours late we finally arrived in Santa Cruz, what a treat it was to meet the lovely English speaking Alejandro. He showed us to our beautiful apartment and left us to it for the night, promising to return in the morning to help us tackle our growing list of vehicle problems. After a big scrub up we slept like angles in a super king sized bed ready to face the perils of Bolivian car repairs in the morning.
Rochelle & Will