POTOSI
Potosi is breath taking, not just for its Unesco protected colonial streets overlooked by the deep orange coloured Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain) but because it is supposedly the highest city in the world at 4070m and every tiny thing you do leaves you breathless. This sky high city only exists because of the lucrative silver ore deposits found in the mountain around 1545. By the end of the 18 century it grew into one of the wealthiest city's in the world, apparently underwriting the Spanish economy for two centuries. The Spanish forced millions of indigenous people and African slaves to mine the mountain in appalling conditions. Even though the politics have changed the working conditions have not.
Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain)
We have heard a lot of things about the tours of Cerro Rico ranging from the "best experience in Bolivia" to "dirty, scary, dangerous". Basically it's not really supposed to be tourist attraction. Working conditions have changed little in centuries and border on medieval, there are absolutely no safety procedures and little ventilation, which with the thin air up here is pretty dangerous. However this mountain is why this city is here and is why we are here. Plus there ain't much else between Sucre and Uyuni's Salt Flats (our next stop).
We booked a tour with Koala Tours (Not sure the link to Koalas) as they seemed pretty well reviewed online. Our guide Ronald swung by our hostel at 9am and soon we were in a bus with 15 other soft handed gringos who had never done a days hard physical work in our lives. We dropped by a small warehouse on route where they gave us overalls, hard hats lights etc and a rather fetching bandana for covering our mouths. The dust can get really bad down there.
Our next stop was the miners market. A small street of shops crammed full of everything you need to ruin your garden. Boots, hard hats, shovels, oh and vast amounts of dynamite. Tours encouraged visitors to buy a few sticks of TNT and some other items like Coca leaves and soft drinks to give to the miners as we venture through the mountain. It's kind of a thank you for having us. After the market the road snaked up the colourful mountain side and soon we were at the section of mine we would be exploring. Me and H were feeling surprisingly good considering the vast elevation change between Sucre and here.
As we reached the mine entrance it was clear this was not your usual tourist attraction, in fact it wasn't for tourists at all. Two two ton carts careered out of the dark just as we neared the entrance. The carts were pushed by two strong guys with a third up front making sure the coast was clear. As they past our guide dropped a bottle of soda into their cart. They continued on with a thankful nod. As we disappeared into the dark with only the reflection of torch light on the tracks to lead the way we heard distant rumbles as carts were filled from wooden shoots laden with exploded ore. Suddenly the rumbling drew near and our guide quickly shouted to us to dive into a small hollow in the rock wall just in time for an empty cart to pass. Without warning the miners threw the cart off the tracks in our direction and jumped over to join us just as a fully laden cart hurtled passed. It's metal side brushed against the overturned carts wheels making sparks as they grinded past. It was crazy seeing how these guys work, once those two tone carts are moving nothing us stopping them, especially not a dopey tourist. The amount of physical force needed to move those carts is immense especially with the high altitude and low oxygen levels. Another crazy factor that is the dust. With every breath it fills your lungs and coats the inside of your mouth. Apparently this is the biggest problem in the mine. Miners here have a life expectancy of 45ish due to contracting silicosis (a fatal lung disease with no treatment) within ten to fifteen years of working the mine. Miners here know the risks but there are not many other alternatives in the city. They can earn up to three or four times the standard salary in the town, but they do pay the ultimate price.
The mine is run as a cooperative. Groups of miners work together and provide all their own gear, often fathers sons and brothers will work as a team. They ask for permission from the cooperative to mine a certain section and then pay a small percent back to the cooperative and to the government. We were surprised to hear that there is no age limit to work in the mines and children as young as 14 are working along side the other men.
We took an even smaller tunnel that veered off the main one dodging and ducking low hanging rock and support beams. Soon we were deep in the mountain staring face to face with a large red figure, with piercing eyes, bull horns and covered in streamers and empty liquor bottles. El Tio is a kind of Devil that the miners worship. They bring him offerings of alcohol and food to keep them safe from accidents and to bring good minerals. Every mine in this mountain has their own El Tio and with Carnival approaching the miners add extra flags, streamers and decorations making for a kind of drag queen of the underworld.
Helen started to feel very light headed and wobbly, obviously she wasn't doing as well with the altitude as we thought. She decided it would be best to head back with the other guide for some fresh air outside. It's hard to know how you will react at high altitudes especially in a mine with lots of dust and little oxygen. Still she had seen a vast chunk of the miners life and wasn't too disheartened.
I carried on and instantly wished I had gone with H. Our guide lead us to a small hole in the rock hardly more than a shoulders width wide and a foot high. He inched his way through on his belly and beckoned us to follow. With no back up guide to take us out one by one we wriggled through the narrow passage like worms and entered a new chamber. It opened out a lot inside and we got to talk to one of the miners preparing holes for TNT. We helped him heave up a basket or minerals and gave him some dynamite as a present.
The next chamber involved a sheer climb down unstable rock which ended at the top of an old wooden ladder which was missing its last two rungs. Now we were in a colossal chamber and met some more miners driving a metal stake into solid rock walls. They too was preparing the rock for dynamite. One of the miners let me have a go, you have to hold and twist a metal bar as you smack the bottom as hard as you can with an iron mallet. The bar is about two and a half feet long and each hole takes roughly two and a half hours to make. These guys have a hard job, I'll never complain about sitting at a desk in an air conditioned studio ever again.
We wriggled, climbed, ducked, dived and dodged our way back towards the entrance. At one point we were literately running along the tracks trying to find a little gully to dive in as a heavily laden cart rumbled down the tracks behind. We managed to dive into a small room just in time which was used as a small chapel.
After being trapped in a cross fire of rusty carts passing we quickly ran for the daylight. It had been a crazy experience and left me with quite mixed emotions. One the one side it had been exhilarating to be in the amongst the dust, sweat, sparks and caverns. It was a proper adventure deep inside the mountain. However I am unsure how I felt about this being a tourist activity. Yes the miners get a few bottles of pop and some explosives as a nice gesture but I'm not sure they see any of the money from the tourism and have the extra stress of avoiding camera wielding gringos (such as me). I'm not sure what the answer is. It was a crazy eye opening day and I am very glad I witnessed what mining life up here is like, I just wish tourism could help the miners more rather than just lining the pockets of the tour companies in town.
Helen was still feeling pretty fragile when we returned to the hostel so she opted to doze away the afternoon whilst I went for a walk. Parts of the town are protected by Unesco due to the grand colonial buildings dating back to Potosi's silver coated hay days. I wandered some crooked little side streets eventually popping out into a massive market where I got thoroughly lost. Like most South American markets, piles of fruit and veg filled one section whilst chopped up animals filled the other. Similar to Sucre the top level was full of tiny restaurants. It was a nice little slice of local life.
The Mint
In a large building just off the main square is Potosi's Mint House. Back in the days when the streets were paved in silver this was a fully functioning mint. We joined a small tour and were lead through the bowels of this iconic building. We didn't take many photos and have borrowed a few from the internet because you have to buy a ticket for your camera which we didn't realise. Firstly we saw a collection of catholic paintings housed in a lofty grand room. They were painted to help 'educate' the indigenous folk about Catholicism and combined elements of both beliefs creating a sort of hybrid religion. The room was full of paintings of Mary however her large gowns were always shaped like Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain), the locals believed she was a form of their Pacha Mama. We called her Mountain Mary.
The main attraction is a giant room which houses colossal wooden cogs that used to be powered by mules. This crazy looking contraption existed to squish silver bars into thin strips out of which they cut silver coins. It was quite an impressive sight. We headed down creaky staircase to where the mules would have been attached. It was a pretty grim existence if you were a mule walking round and round turning the heavy cogs for hours a day. We were shocked but not surprised to find out after starting work in the mint the mules had a life expectancy of five months. Eventually the mules were replaced by a steam engines which via a collection of cogs, wheels and belts turned a whole room of coin making machines. Eventually the steam was superseded by electricity and the size of the coin making machines shrank from a whole building to a few small machines in the corner of a room. Walking through the mint was a bit like walking through the history of industry. These days the mint is no longer functioning as it is now cheaper for Bolivia to import all its coins from abroad. Our guide also showed us the original Potosi mint mark which is an overlaid P T S I. Some of the following photos have been borrowed from the internet due to our lack on camera ticket.
Some other things of interest we saw on our wee tour were lots of precious stones and ores from all over South America, nice silver work in glass cases, a vintage printing press, oh and the curve ball of the century: some mummified babies in glass cases at the front of a small chapel. They were fucking creepy. Some still had hair and tattered clothes.
On our way round we got talking to a couple from Sydney called Frank and Sarah who were also heading to the Chilean border via the Bolivian salt flats. We hung out for the rest of the evening eventually ending up in a little restaurant being serenaded by a guitarist and saxophonist. We made a plan to travel together to the Salt Flats as they were a good pair to hang out with and reminded us of our second home.
Before vamosing the following morning we did a few chores around town (mainly buying avocados for lunch) then popped up for a quick look in the cathedrals bell tower for a final look over the city. From the top we had a great view over the square with the mountain towering above glowing in the morning sunlight. It was odd thinking about its dark sad history on this bright sunny day with happy families relaxing in the square below. I remembered a phrase Ronald had said whilst we were deep inside the mine. "We eat the mountain and the mountain eats us".
