In Potosi (highest town at 4100m) you can hardly walk up the stairs without getting out of puff. It is another very typical Bolivian town...lots of churches and old buildings. Scratch the surface, however, and a very interesting history is revealed. Once the largest & wealthiest city in the world - bigger that London or Paris in its day, Potosi produced most of the silver for money for the western world. A massive mountain (called Cerro Ricco) stands as a reminder to all in the town of their wealthy past. The hill has hundreds of kms of mines running deep into the ground and documentation of terribly cruel mining practises from the Spanish Conuistadores are well known. The interesting thing however is that although today almost all the silver has gone, the same mining practises are used and many people die in the quest for the metal. So linked was the Spanish Conquest to the mining of silver, that all the churches in the town face the mountain!
A tour of the mine is a very popular tourist attraction, but they do not recommend it for asthmatics or people with breathing issues. We had both (I had a terrible cold & cough) so we decided to give that one a skip. We did head off to the city mint instead. Fascinating history of Bolivia's relationship with Spain and how the role silver played.
Our first night in Potosi was the festival of San Juan (more fireworks and people getting drunk) as the Aymaran version of New Year. This went by fairly unnoticed, except for a few very hungover or drunk tour operators the next day! One guy was trying to sell us a very expensive Salar tour, but all he could do was slur a few sentences together about his boss...long blink (reveal very red eyes)...something about 'don't kill me'...another long blink...and then thankfully his phone rang and we made a swift exit!
Potosi was my turn to have the Bolivia belly...on top of a cold. Needless to say I was a very unhappy camper! Stupidly thinking I would be okay for the 6 hour bus to Uyuni, we stuck to our travel plan and sought out Diana Tour Bus for the journey! Lets just say that any 6 hour bus journey for GBP1 is unlikely to go well!
Dear old Diana Tours. Not only did I soon discover I was not fit for a 6 hour journey, but the bus was not fit for the journey either! Dirty, dusty, packed (they kept stopping to collect locals and their large bags to fill the isles) and smelly...and that is a complement! Worst thing were the women who got on and then stared at you in a 'please can I have your seat' kind of way - not today dear! Lucky for me a kind Israeli traveller offered to swap seats so that Simon and I could sit together. Not lucky for Simon as I had to sleep on his shoulder the whole way! The roads were TERRIBLE. The bumpiest dirt roads I have ever seen, but the bus driver thought he had some kind of 4x4 in his control and bounced right over them. Car sick. Me. Never! This kind of motion sickness deserves a whole class of its own!
2 hours into the journey I heard a loud crunch under the bus where I sat. 4 hours into the journey they decide to stop and have a look at it...a broken axial & suspension (I could have told them that) Much tutting and pointing under the bus, a repair job consisting of someones belt and some bits of wood and an hour later we were off again at the same breakneck speed. Oh to be in Uyuni and in bed! Feeling very sorry for myself we found the cheapest place in town to crash and crash we did. Funny thing is, Uyuni is the smallest, coldest 1 horse town I have ever seen, but I was ecstatic to be there.
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