The next morning, Ross and I went in search of a reputable tour company which is pretty hard to do around those parts. We’d heard way too many horror stories of people almost dying due to tie rods breaking, or other vehicular accidents and stories of people being left out in the desert for hours waiting on another ride. We had a good tip and just so happened that while we were in the office questioning Amalia if they changed vehicles mid-stream, if the tour was with her company, all those questions you think you shouldn’t have to ask, a group who had just returned rocked in to the office. So, with their good reports we booked a trip. Well, actually it was after Ross had worked some magic using his negotiation skills, then we booked the trip.
So the next day we took off with our motley crew (6 travelers, a driver, and a cook) off on a 3 day jeep tour of the Salar. First thing to note, is that even thought these are considered “jeep” tours, they’re in Toyota Land Cruisers, not in Jeeps. Second thing, is that it’s a good thing it’s not in a Jeep. Three days in a Jeep with 7 other people is not my idea of fun. Land Cruisers are actually pretty roomy, as long as you have the luggage, food, and extra fuel wrapped up in a tarp up on the top of the vehicle. Why in a tarp? There’s not much danger of rain most of the year but once you get out of the salt flats you’re in a desert, and let me tell you, everyone answers to the name of Pig Pen by the end of this trip. (Remember the Charlie Brown character who always walked around surrounded by a cloud of dust?) I don’t think I’ve ever been that dusty in all my life. On the way back, I lost count of the number of times I had to wipe the dust off my sunglasses just so I could see the barely existant road ahead of us.
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We drove around to different look out points, visited a train cemetery, saw several different types of lakes which were homes to thousands of flamingos (we also saw the flamingos, too), visited the old salt hotel, stayed in another hotel made out of salt, took some fabulous pictures, visited a cemetery that was just discovered within the last 10 years which dates back to 500 BC (and they people are really well preserved due to the desert conditions let me tell ya), saw a desert landscape that looked like it came straight out of one of Salvador Dali’s paintings (they actually named that desert after him), climbed some very large rocks at the Valley of Rocks, took a dip in a thermal pool, got up before the crack of dawn to see dry and wet geysers, and hiked around “Fish Island” and saw cacti that had been around for thousands of years.
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If you’re thinking you are up for this adventure I strongly recommend Monte Blanco travel agency out of Uyuni. We had a great time, had a wonderful driver, an excellent cook, and I am happy to report we had no accidents and no breakdowns. After you’ve been there you can definitely understand why those last two things are so common.
2. The Mine Tours – La Candelaria (Potosi) – Our next stop on the gringo trail was Potosi. Although I was simply looking forward to going to the mine, blowing up some stuff with dynamite, and then heading on to the next stop, it didn’t take much to get me interested in the history of the city. It’s hard to imagine that any city in Bolivia, South America’s poorest country, was at one time more fashionable and richer than Paris. It is said that even the streets were paved with silver and at one time, back in the 1600’s there were more people living in Potosi than in any other place in the world. The reason? The Cerro Rico (Rich Hill in English) where they found and mined silver up until the 1800’s (when the supply was depleted) was the place to live. Given what it is today, it’s hard to comprehend that Potosi was at one time the richest city in the world.
Today, the mine still plays an important role in the Potosi economy. And for those of us who dare to visit the mine, it becomes a huge eye-opener. There was a documentary made back in 2005 called The Devil’s Miner, which is a film about 14 year old and his 12 year old brother who work in the silver mines to help support their family. Although I didn’t see any children working the day I was there, children still work in the mines here. I really encourage you to find the movie. I’m pasting the link because I got a chance to see the movie when I was in Sucre and it is absolutely unbelievable. Believe me, I don’t have a job but I was definitely grateful for the one I did have once I had watched the film and I know you will be as well, you’ll be thankful for a lot of things. http://www.thedevilsminer.com/index_new.html.
A friend of mine had recommended a place to stay in Potosi and also had said that he had booked his tour through their agency. After we read the Lonely Planet guide on the mine tours I was glad I had bought some extra life insurance as they tell you straight up, it is a dangerous tour. After all, you’re stepping into a working mine, where there are poisonous gases, men working with dynamites, runaway carts that could end your life in the blink of an eye, and a truckload of other bad things that you hope never happen. So why go on the tour? To get a glimpse of life for a Bolivian miner and of course, to get to play with dynamite!
After getting on all our duds (including another hard hat…a sign of a great tour), we headed off with our group to the Miner’s Market. Believe it or not for a little more than $2.00 US you can buy a stick of dynamite, a fuse, and a little metal connector, and let me not forget the accelerator. We bought a couple of packets, some as gifts for the miners, and one for us to play with. The mines are cooperatives, which means that every miner works for himself, sets his own hours but has a group of buddies who is always watching his back. They have to buy their own supplies such as dynamite and coca leaves. Two things that they wouldn’t be able to get by without. We also bought some coca leaves to hand out. I’m sure at this point you understand why the dynamite is important but you’re probably really wondering about the coca leaves. Matter of fact, you’re probably wondering about my sanity at this point. I promise I’m completely fine. I just see things in a different light now.
We went directly to the mine after shopping at the market. At our security briefing our guide went over simple things such as mind your head, don’t touch the wires as most of them are for electricity, keep your lamps on, listen to what we say, those types of warnings. Then we were ready to go inside the mine.
Our first stop was to visit El Tio and to visit the mini-museum they had inside the mine. El Tio (the uncle) is the name the Spanish gave to the Devil when they came and conquered the Quechua people. They don’t have a “d” in their alphabet so they used a “t” instead. He is said to be the one who rules over the underworld and the mines in Potosi. The miners on a regular basis bring him offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes, and alcohol so he won’t take their lives. It’s said that the miners lead double lives. If you’re paying attention to the outside of the mines, you’ll always see a Virgin Mary or some other Christian symbol but inside the mine, they are worshiping El Tio or in reality, the devil. It’s been that way for generations and each miner accepts this dual-religion and depends on it for survival.
I could type all night long about the conditions inside these mines but instead I’m going to tell you about some of the things I witnessed while on my tour. I watched sweat pour out of a man’s boots while he pulled his ankle back towards his thigh. He had been working all day in areas that sometimes reach 120 degrees Fahrenheit. I watched as four men, two pulling and two pushing, struggled to push a two ton cart full on “completo” (that’s what they call the rocks straight out of the mine) along the tracks. They do this multiple times during their 12, 15, or 24 hour shifts, most of the time pushing the cart over 1 kilometer one-way. By the way, the cart, when it’s empty weights one ton. At one point, Ross and I helped push a cart up a slight incline, it was unbelievably heavy. I saw a young man with both cheeks chalk full of coca leaves just so he could work the day without any food. Once they enter the mines, no one ever eats. They take water, Gatorade, soda, and coca leaves with them but nothing else. Without the coca leaves to ward off the hunger and give them energy, they wouldn’t be able to work those types of shifts. I also saw the particles of dust and asbestos floating in the air as I walked and sometimes crawled down the narrow shafts. I watched as a guy gave the biggest grin and joked around as he was starting the long road back for another load. Even though these men and boys work in conditions that in the States wouldn’t be allowed, they still have these amazing spirits. And they’re glad to have their job. There’s no way they could make that kind of money on the outside.
The men and boys who work in the mine will make more than twice that of someone who doesn’t work in the mine. The sad reality though is that they are trading the majority of their lives so their families can survive. The majority of these men by the time they are 40 will have major lung problems and typically die of silicosis. They don’t have health insurance and they majority of them die at home, a slow, painful death. For those who don’t end up with lung problems, they generally die in the mines as a result of cave-ins, accidents with carts, and of course from explosions that didn’t go off when they should have. There are, on average, 30 deaths a year inside the mines of the Cerro Rico. Oh, I forgot to mention that these guys are also working at around 13,000 feet, a height that would make most of us lose our breath just walking a couple of steps and they’re doing everything the old-fashioned way, by hand.
So, besides getting to play with dynamite – we did actually get to use our stick of dynamite to blow up some stuff, I have a new appreciation for my life. The fact that I never had to start working when I was a child, that I don’t (or at least shouldn’t) have to worry about dying a slow, painful death, and that I’ve never had to work that hard for so little with no hope of getting ahead; I am so thankful. I’m also thankful that I got to see that when that is the case, that when that is your life, it is possible to live it with a sense of humor and a spirit that apparently can’t be broken.
3. The Biggest Water Balloon Fight in the World (Potosi) – The entire month of February is one big water fight in almost every city in Bolivia. If you’re out in the street you better be ready to get wet. First, I probably better add my disclaimer: The theory of Potosi having the biggest water balloon fight in the world is strictly the opinion of the author and does not represent anyone else’s thoughts or opinions on the subject. With that out of the way, I’m free to tell you about our involvement…
Twice a year, the miners have a carnival. It just so happened (and this is one of the best parts about traveling) that when we rocked into town, they were just preparing for the celebration. Our guide for the mine tour had told us we should stick around, that it gets pretty wild and is definitely something to see. So, since I’d already missed my original flight home, I thought, “What the heck?!? Sure!” And by that time, Ross and I had met up with a Welshman and his Irish wife, Evan and Siobhan, who are now great friends. The four of us agreed to meet up the next morning around 10:00 to witness the celebration.
Ross and I were running a little late (apparently that’s just the way we roll) and when we met up with Evan and Siobhan we could see fear in their eyes. “We don’t want to go back up there,” they said in unison. “It’s like a war, they’re crazy, and we’re just big white targets.” It didn’t take Ross and me long to figure out what they were talking about because before we could make a decision about heeding the warning or heading off into the war zone, a water balloon came screaming past my head…a near miss. We decided to chance it, and Evan and Siobhan being the great sports they are agreed to join us.
The parade itself, which consisted of drunken miners walking, dancing, and sauntering down the street was pretty amusing and while Ross had decided to continue up the street, the three of us decided we’d hunker down next to an older lady, thinking that people might have some respect for the elderly. Mistake #1, there is no regard for age, ability, or nationality when it comes to a water war. We were deep within enemy lines, and it proved to be difficult to extract ourselves from the interior of the battlefield.
Ross returned to find Evan, Siobhan, and me covered in foam and displaying the clear markings of recent hits. Ross, who had somehow managed to stay dry as a bone, then made friends with one of the locals who was kind enough to buy us our first stash of water balloons. We weren’t planning on using them for aggressive action, purely as a measure of defense, and to maybe look a little tough and scare off the enemy. We did alright for the first few meters but then just as they say in war…all hell broke lose. “Gringos!” I heard someone yell and I knew it was on. We made it a few blocks before we decided that we needed to strategize, we needed a plan, or we’d never make it out alive. I’d taken a couple of water balloons up the side of the head and by that point my pants were completely soaked which made running a little precarious. We needed to face the facts. We needed ammunition. So, like true locals, we bought several bags of water balloons, and we were armed and dangerous, and ready for what lurked around the next corner.
We had a great time from then on. I had a moment with a little boy, probably 10 years old, no more, he looked at me and was ready to hurl a bomb in my direction. I, thinking quickly, glared at him with a menacing look, pointed at him as if I were calling him out, like the “your next” thing you see on a field, players tense, filled with passion, and ready to take out anyone who gets in their way. Apparently I was successful as he shrunk back into the doorway of his house, peering from around the frame wondering exactly what I was capable of. I walked by on the other side of the street, not ever breaking eye contact, but I couldn’t help but crack a smile. The little boy, seeing my smile, visibility relaxed a little, and that’s when I let it fly. He would have done the same had I dropped my guard. Score one for me!
It continued like that for what seemed like an eternity and when we finally reached the safety of Evan and Siobhan’s hostel we were all soaked to the bone. It was a bit cold and the insanity of the situation was starting to settle into my mind. And then, the realization that we had a lot farther to go caused a slight panic to flood my body as I knew the streets were full of people just waiting to unleash their fury. Once we ran out of ammunition we resorted to running from the enemy. I can say that I’m so glad that I can still outrun most kids. I might not be in the greatest shape of my life but don’t they say you just have to be a little faster that the slowest guy? Or in this case, the guy with the water balloon, foam, or bucket.
I could go on and on about the water war. I could tell you about the taxi we refused to get in when it was time to head to Sucre because there was a gang of kids locked and loaded just waiting for us outside the door. I could tell you about the girls in the pickup trucks who would scream “Hola!” then dump a bucket of water on your head. I could also tell you about Ross and his errant water balloons, one of which nailed a businessman in his suit, not to mention the one that went in someone house. And the fun didn’t stop there, it continued in Sucre but by then I was getting to be someone of a professional and even dared to take a picture of two of the little boys who were so excited to have another go at me. I even ran like a child away from a 12 year old boy in Guayaquil, when he came after me with a can of foam. I should have heeded Siobhan’s suggestion and not made eye contact but I did, I saw the foam, I looked him in the eye, I smiled a little smile, he flashed back one that said “I’m gonna get you lady” and the chase was on (with the encouragement of his parents I might add). I had to run a lot further than I thought I would. I also saw people covered in blue paint while in Guayaquil, which is what they use instead of water. Fortunately, I was only a spectator there. Next time I go to South America in February I’m going to have to remember my trainers, they’ll be a lot easier to run in than Birkenstocks.
4. Dinosaur Tracks (Sucre) – For those of you dinosaur lovers, you’ll get a kick out of this place. It seems that a cement company was digging rocks out of its quarry but the material contained too much mercury so they abandoned the location. Little by little, over time, wind, and rain, the footprints of creatures from millions of years ago started showing up on the wall. This place it turns out, was a watering hole for those enormous and fierce animals who roamed the earth 15 and 20 million years ago.
I’m not much on touching animals and of course Ross had to point it out that I wasn’t being a good animal person when I held the baby anaconda that we found on our anaconda hunt. I also touched a real live, semi-wild, and incredibly large – think 15 feet or so, caiman on the nose. (I don’t think he was a big fan either.) I have video and you can hear me saying repeatedly, “This is stupid. This is so stupid.” And it was. I had to get so close to him to be able to touch his nose that if he’d wanted to he could have had me as a mid-day snack. We also went alligator hunting one night, with a flashlight of course. When you shine the light around you can see them because their eyes glow red. It’s pretty creepy. Those guys are everywhere, big ones, and baby ones, take your pick. My favorite though was swimming with the dolphins. At first they didn’t seem too interested in us but once we calmed down (it’s hard not to get excited about that kind of thing, even when you’re a grownup) they started coming around and I started singing in a very quiet voice songs from The Sound of Music (the only ones I could think of at the time). But apparently they’re big fans, too. A couple of times they swam really close and swam up against our feet and legs. They were so soft and slick, even under the water. And, as an added bonus, while the dolphins are around you don’t have to worry about alligators, caiman, or snakes. Yahoo!
It was just over 80 km, all down hill, except for a section of 9 km which we didn’t bike. These bikes were designed and rigged for downhill the guide told us. So when it came time, we packed them up on top of the van, hopped in, and then in no time at all, were back on the bikes, peddling fast and furious again. There isn’t as much traffic on the road these days since they completed the new road. We passed (and were passed by) several vehicles on the paved part of the road but fortunately only passed one vehicle on the narrow, gravel, original road. It was always exciting though, and you always had to be paying attention. 
