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“And trust me, not Potosi’s mine, Nor Kings regard can give a bliss o’ermatching mine, A rustic bard”....The Vision; Rabbie Burns

 

After a very bumpy and very mountainous ride, I arrived in Potosi at just after 1.30 in the morning. The city seemed alive enough, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult to find accommodation. I made my way to the Koala den which gets a good write up in the Lonely Planet. It wasn’t the easiest place to find, well certainly not at that time of the morning. However, after asking a few late night revellers and taxi drivers, I eventually found the street and made my way to the Hostel. Unfortunately, there was a sign on the door saying “No vacancies”. I’d passed a few other hostels on the way to Koala den and proceeded back down the hill to see if I could get a room. I tried every hostel and a hotel, to no avail. It was now 2.20am, and I was expecting to have to spend the night on a bench in the Plaza, when this car stopped, presumably sensing that I had a problem. I asked if they knew a hotel that would have vacancies and be open at this time of the night (well morning).  Si, he said, and gave me the name of a hotel close to Mercado de Uyuni. I thanked him and headed off in the direction given. Soon after, he and his wife drew up close by me and said, “Area es muy peligroso, nosotros indicar la ruta” ( the area is very dangerous we will indicate the route).  Not the sort of thing you want to hear, however, with their help, after a few twists and turns, we finally came to the street that the hotel was on. You could see from the shady characters standing around on the street and the loud music coming from properties, it was indeed a less than desirable part of the city. I was also surrounded by barking dogs at this point, which brought unwelcome stares from people standing around! This very kind guy got out of his car, as I was busy defending myself against the dogs and rang the bell at this hotel. It did look a bit like a dosshouse, so I was not looking forward to what I’d find inside.

 

Eventually someone opened a window above the main door and bleary eyed said that there were no rooms. The guy who guided me here became a bit more persuasive. I said “ Yo dormir en el recepcion” explaining that I’d sleep in the reception if I had to! He eventually came down and showed me a room with four beds in the reception area, which could also accommodate the bike. Excellent! Unfortunately it would not be possible to have a shower, so that would have to wait until the next day. The price..... it was £2.50! The guy who guided me here thought was a rip off, but clearly never visited the hostels and hotels that have been set up for gringos! I thanked them very much for their assistance.

 

Not surprisingly, I woke a bit later than usual the next day to a queue of dodgy looking characters waiting to get into the shower. I decided to lock my room and go for breakfast, hoping that the queue would die down later. I wandered through the bustling Uyuni Mercado and eventually found a cafe serving breakfast. The amount of things that were on sale and display were mind-blowing. Everything from coca leaves and what looked liked cocaine ( though it could have been flour!) to rattlesnakes! And, of course, the full range of fake top brand labels. The fruit and veg market had everything you could need and I decided to buy myself some fruit for breakfast

 

I returned for my shower and reluctantly booked in for a further night. I secured the room and then went into the centre of town, where I found a fantastic array of old colonial buildings. I also decided to check out the prices of rooms closer to the centre of the town, realising that I was unlikely to want to go out to eat in the area I was staying in.

 

I finally found a decent Hostel, called Hostal Tukos, which also had Wifi....well sometimes. I frequently found myself having to switch it on. I’m sure they cut it off intentionally to stop me loading photos through the night. 

Now everybody who travels here does so, in the main, to tour the mines of Cerro Rico ( rich mountain), which is organised by a co-operative which runs the mine. The life expectancy of miners who often start at the age of 14, is about ten years from the date of starting their life of hard labour down these mines. The way they mine for silver by adopting what can only be described as extremely dated mining techniques, even worse than those at the turn of the 19^th century and earlier in the UK, exacerbates the problem. So it strikes me as perverse that we should encourage this practice to continue pure and simply because it has become a tourist attraction. After all, elsewhere in the world, silver and other minerals are mined using modern techniques, and life expectancy is rarely a major issue.

 

Also, the fact that the city is the highest in the southern hemisphere and is claimed to be the highest in the world, and has some of the best colonial architecture to be seen anywhere in the world is surely reason enough to visit. If that isn’t enough, the fact that it had, in the fifteenth century a population of 200,000 which exceeded the population of London ( as I understand it) and soon afterwards had one of the world famous Royal Mints, which remained so until the early part of the 19^th century, shows its historic significance and importance. The Mint after all supplied coinage to most countries throughout the world in the 17^th and 18^th century. I took the opportunity to take a guided tour of the mint and it was indeed interesting to see the various processes used to stamp silver over the years, from the earliest stage of stamping by hand, to use of mules and mechanical processes, then steam and finally electric.

 

From the 1950s, the mint was no longer a world force and indeed ceased to produce coinage soon afterwards. Now, Bolivia gets is coinage from various countries throughout the world, including many of those it supplied in the past. It was here for the second time I met this Dutch couple. Now most of the Dutch people I meet here are super friendly, and disgustingly intelligent, speaking anything from three to seven languages, often colloquially! However, I first met the woman, when she came out of the hostel I’d booked into, to inform me there were no rooms. I explained that I had already checked in and was just transferring my bike from one hostel to another, which received a look of dismay. She then asked me where I was from...looking a little more friendly! It told her and explained, that I’d been cycling from Ushuaia and was on my way to Colombia. “Not possible” she said. I responded, “well it has so far, but I appreciate it is getting more difficult, especially at altitude”. She then, said, “so where is the bike computer, showing the distance”, looking at the empty holder. Now she was about 6ft 4”! So was probably an ex- or current member of the Dutch secret police, or worse...and almost certainly a female wrestler in her spare time! I explained how it was broken by a gentleman in Jujuy who tried to help me with my bike, which received a grim look of suspicion. I also explained I was looking for another one, but without success. Clearly, they are not popular in north Argentina and Bolivia. I had the joy of touring the Casa de Moneda with this woman, her husband, who looked by all accounts like a man beaten into submission, and four Belgian grandmothers! She continued to view me with suspicion throughout the tour, such that the tour guide, asked on several occasions if everything was ok, and did she understand him well enough. By far the scariest woman I think I’ve ever met!

 

Another interesting feature of Potosi, but Bolivia generally, is the significantly low numbers of smokers! Indeed, any smokers you do find are almost certainly travellers or people from other South American countries who are here on business. Clearly at high altitude, and with mining causing enough lung damage, most people prefer to give their lungs the best possible chance of survival! So there’s a cure for stopping smoking. Send everyone to high altitude! Sadly, this has little impact on the travellers from UK and other countries, who relish the opportunity to light up in restaurants, pubs, hostels, indeed anywhere they can, feeling that they are truly liberated and able to damage everyone else’s health, without restraint. A rather less desirable and especially sad feature, however, is the number of drunken youngsters and adults who can be seen at all hours of the day staggering along the streets and pavements. This I found on both Saturday and Sunday. There is no day or time of day sacred!

 

What else? Well you’d be forgiven for thinking that you were in China at times, not because of the people, though many bear a striking resemblance to the people of Hunan, but because of the plethora of Nissan ( and I know that they are Japanese) microbuses that spew thick, black plumes of smoke into the rare air! I say china, not just because the vehicles themselves are covered in what look like mandarin symbols, but which are almost certainly Japanese, but more because it reminds me of the streets of China, which in Guilin at least is teeming with similarly toxic, fume-spewing vehicles.

 

Now if they are not getting drunk, what fad do you think most occupies the time and interest of local people here? Bet you’d never guess that its the yo-yo! I wandered into a big yo-yo competition in one of the pedestrian areas leading to the main Plaza. And as well as showing off in competitions, youngsters can be found practicing their yo-yo skills everywhere. Even, to the dismay of others, on the narrow pavements that sandwich equally narrow one- way roads in the centre of the city. To walk up or down Calle Bolivar, is indeed, akin to taking your life in your hands. If you are not hit by a yo-yo, you are certain to be hit by a vehicle which snakes its way through the throngs of people. The pavements are rarely big enough for two people to pass. But what is most disconcerting is the number of people that insist on walking on the pavements in twos, resisting the more polite temptation to go in single file, leaving the passerby with no choice but to walk on the road and risk being taken out by 4x4 or motorbike, or worse, one of these fume spewing microbuses!