What Doesn't Kill Us, Only Makes Us Stronger... Part II

You'd better sit down for this one dear reader, and in a comfortable chair as this may take a while. Now, I am absolutely shattered, completely and utterly so, and I barely have the energy to write this post, but I owe it to myself to chronicle the past few days as accurately as possible. Here goes...

Once in Uyuni, I was a wreck. I'd been wearing the same clothes for 3 days, including overnight, I'd not showered in days, I was dusty, cold and had stomach ache. However, Uyuni itself is not a particularly nice town, it's a place that most people leave as soon as possible! The girls didn't really want to spend a night there - in fairness, neither did I - but the night bus to Potosi and Sucre would arrive at 2am and 5am respectively. Not good times to arrive in a new city with no accommodation, especially ones that would be very, very cold!

Our hands were tied for the time being though, as the power was out in Uyuni and the ATM was likely to be out of action until at least 5pm. The buses were due to leave at 7pm, so that gave us enough time to buy tickets. We all left our backpacks in the Estrella office as the guy there said he was going out for lunch for an hour and the office would be safely locked up. The boys knew that they were going to stay for one night, so the soon found a hostel and we hung out there with them as we waited for power. But it was a long, boring wait and we couldn't make any set plans without money. The Estrella guy also seemed to be taking his time as our bags were still locked away hours later, so we had nothing to amsue ourselves with.

Eventually, after wandering around the town quite aimlessly for hours, the power came on and we were the first ones at the ATM. I was rather hesitant about being the first one to put their card in, especially as it took an age to boot up, and then "The Recycle Bin is corrupted" kept appearing on screen! Eventually, we all manged to get some cash and so we went back to collect our bags and buy our tickets to Potosi and Sucre. The office was still closed however, and this is where I started to get really annoyed. Now, I will readily admit that in the past, I would lose my temper ber easily and have little patience for situations like this, but travelling has chilled me out and made me more tolerant. But on this day, I had been woekn up at 4.30 am, I'd walked and climbed and shivered and was really not in the mood for any setbacks at all.

So, like idiots, we waited outside the Estrella office in the cold from 5.50pm. The sun set on us, we watched the same taxis drive around and around and all I could think was that after all this, we would miss the buses, and I was the one who said we should just book into a hostel for the night and leave the following morning. In the end, I reasoned, the outcome would be the same, but I could have taken a long nap that afternoon and recouperated a little, instead of waiting around for things that were out of my control. At 6.50pm, the Estrella man finally reappeared, leaving us only 10 minutes to buy tickets and board the buses. "Don´t worry, they always leave late!" he replied. I could have killed him. By the time we'd loaded ourselves up and retrieved Caroline's bags from one of the boy's rooms, all the buses had left on time and we were stranded in Uyuni fopr the night after all. By the way, Caroline was on a different tour to us, but had met Katy previously and had joined us that afternoon as we hung around like cretins!

After throwing a bit of a strop (and a bottle of water across the street), we decidie to check into the same hostel as the boys. There were no twins with private bathrooms left, so we took a room for 4. Room 13. I swear, you couldn't make this stuff up! We dropped off our bags and headed out to buy bus tickets for the following morning. All the vendors that had been shouting "Potosi, Sucre" at us all day, now suddenly had nothing for the following day, not the first, second or third one we tried! As Katy observed "It's Sunday tomorrow!" - I thought I would be stuck in Uyuni forever! The fourth agents had tickets though, what a relief, and Julia and I booked on to Potosi, Caroline and Katy to Sucre.

We then went out with the boys for dinner in a bar that had outdoor heaters - at last, I could remove a layer of clothing! Back at the hostel, the room was OK, but the girls weren't impressed at all, especially as we had to walk through a corridor smeared with excrement to get there, as the toilets we somewhat full. I personally was past caring by this point. I managed to sleep reasonably well, although I was very dizzy when I got up at 5am to use the bathroom. I'd forgotten to take my altitude sickness tablet the night before - I don't know if that had anything to do with it, but it was really weird! As we were getting ready to leave the room on Sunday morning, there was a knock at the door. I gingerly opened it and was greeted by a lady trying to sell us a tour - in our room at 8.30am! That was a new one!

The bus to Potosi was, by Bolivian standards, not too bad. It had reasonably comfortable seats and was clean enough. I'd been on much worse in Asia. Our bags were loaded on safely and we set off roughly on time (although not as promptly as the night before!) It was to be another long journey, 6 hours, along bumpy dirt roads to Potosi. Katy and Caroline would need to change there for Sucre. I managed to nap a little and we read some magazines that Caroline had brought from the UK. At the half way stop, there were no toilets, so a little improvisation was required! We all agreed that it was tiring and hardgoing, but by Bolivian standards, it could have been worse. Once back on board, a boy (who that morning was sat in the driver's seat and had us all worried) came around and gave everyone a bottle of Coke each. I was rather touched by that, especially in such a poor country. I guess it would have been covered in the price of the ticket, but I doubt you get any little perks on British coaches.

That was where my tolerance for this particular bus journey ended. Up until this point, I had been on worse. What happened next made this journey even worse than the one from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng back in October. Julia was sat by the window, myself by the aisle. The man sat across the aisle from me decided to stand up in the corridor, vomit from at least 5 feet onto the floor and then it all ran under mine and Julia's feet. Luckily, I moved my legs in time but Julia's bag didn't escape unscathed. So, as you can imagine, we couldn't extend our legs, we had to keep them on the footrests, it was hot and really smelly, and we still had 3 hours to go until Potosi. Somehow, the awful Bolivian music that was playing on the bus seemed to be getting louder and louder, so much so that I resorted to sticking my fingers in my ears. When we finally got off, we had no idea where we had been left and no idea where to go.

In brief, once we got our act together, we booked a tour for the silver mines the following morning, found a hostel and splasked out of a twin room with private hot shower, heating and TV, bought a bus ticket to La Paz for Monday night and went out for dinner. I decided to skip Sucre even though it sounded very pretty, just because I was worried about time, plus that way I would get to go with Julia and have company/moral support for the La Paz journey! It was quite a turnaround really - on Day 1 of the jeep tour, I assured everyone that I could honestly travel forever and that I had never once wanted to go home. Now though, after 8 months on the road, I felt like home was somewhere I woud quite like to be!

On Monday morning, we went on a tour down one of the mines that Potosi is famouse for - by the way, Potosi is the world's highest city at 4,060m above sea level. In an ideal world, I should'nt have been taking on such a challenge as the mines after such an arduous week, but I knew I would regret it if I didn't. First, we suited an booted up, then stopped at the mines market to buy coca leaves and soda for them, and dynamite for us to watch being blown up! I actually missed the explosion as I was walking backwards, watching my camera screen that wasn't even recording, but I certainly heard it!

Now, the mines are not set up for tourists at all. You visit them exactly as the are, there are no frills and no fancy show is put on. You meet the miners under the mountain as they unload and load wagons and trolleys of rocks, as they hand-chisel holes for dynamite, as they sort through the ores. Silver, tin and zinc are mined in Potosi, and the tunnels are coated with iron and copper oxides. Plus some fluffy green stuff - "What's this?" I asked our guide. "Asbestos." Nice. It was very cold at the start of our journey into Cerro Rico, but it soon became very hot as the mountain is volcanic. The tunnels became smaller, the ceilings lower and the water we had to wade through deeper.

To meet the first miner, we had to crawl up through a tiny passage above the main tunnels, into a claustrophic space where he was working. All five of us were hacking and wheezing, partially due to the heat and lack of air, but mainly because of the toxic dust all around us. That was the hardest part. All the miners we met were happy to stop and chat and were grateful for the gifts of soda and coca leaves that we had taken them. Many start mining at 15 years old will continue until their 50s, unless ill health stops them first. They may earn £4 or £5 for a day's work in hideous conditions, and that of course depends on the quality of the metals they mine. Nowadays, the international market for many metals has crashed and this has worsened their situation, but not a single one complained. It was certainly and thought-provoking experience, to say the very least.

Julia and I had decided to be extravagant and pay for our lovely room for an extra night (even though we wouldn't be sleeping in it) just so we could come back and take a hot shower and watch TV, have a nap... just chill out. After the mines, I certainly needed it, if only to remove the metallic stench that hung about me. We wandered around Potosi that evening and in parts, it was quite pretty. After finding a lovely cheap little restaurant for dinner, where I tried llama for the first time, we collected our bags from the hostel and took a taxi to the bus terminal. We had no idea where our bus would park, so we enquired at the ticket desk.

It was a good job as I think they had sold us to another company and we needed to check in at a different desk, plus this bus would be leaving haf an hour later than we expected! As it turned out, the new bus was the highest class and had fully reclining seats. We were still worried about getting robbed in the night though and then Julia though she would tell me that sometimes buses to La Paz get hijacked! As it turned out, we got a decent night's sleep, the bus was comfortable and on time. In fact, we very nearly didn't get out until we realised that we were the last ones on the bus - "Is ths La Paz?" I asked. "¡Sí!" So, there we were at 5.30am in the highest capital city in the world. It was time to find a taxi... and a place to stay.