Hell on Earth - Blogabond

It`s really hard to breathe in Potosi, the highest city in the world. Standing tall at 4100m, Potosi is famous not just for its ability to get you struggling for breath just from taking a shower, but also for its silver mines which most of the male population of the town work in. After hearing horror stories about fake taxi drivers robbing tourists, when we arrived in Potosi we were extra careful about picking a genu-wine taxi and not getting into a dodgy Honda with a random sketchy Bolivian man at the wheel. We were more than happy to discover that the genu-wine taxi cabs were marked with a batman sticker on the windshield. Holy Guacamole Batman!

We need it to be known that the events that ocurred Potosi are memories almost too painful for Tay to relive, and writing this entry hasn`t been easy. This is because against our better judgement we enrolled on the Potosi mine tour even though the Lonely Planet has an entire section dedicated to a warning about how harrowing an experience it is and how there are many risks and dangers involved. However, when in Rome.....

The tour began at the warehouse where we were kitted out in MC Hammer style trousers, wellies, dust protective jackets and the piece de resistance...proper miner head torches and helmets. Holy Potosi-moley Batman! We were then taken to the miners market where we had to buy coca leaves and cigarettes as presents for the miners, along with some dynamite which the guide was going to explode right in front of us after the tour had finished. Honestly, those Bolivians are such sticklers for their health and safety requirements.

The miners survives 24 hour shifts down the mines by chewing rank coca leaves to suppress their appetites and combat altitude headaches. This means they don`t eat a single thing while they`re down there and only drink the occassional shot of 96% alcohol. Which for the record, is essentially a sinister, heavily concentrated version of Tesco Value vodka and the taste lingers for hours after. Erik, a Swedish guy on our tour greedily downed an entire shot of the potent liquid BEFORE being told by the guide that it was 96% proof. As you can imagine, that strength of alcohol combined with the altitude meant that for the next ten minutes he just got increasingly drunk until he was a quivering mess and kept saying "don`t laugh! It`s not funny! I`m soooo f**king drunk right now!" before scuttling off to buy some empanadas to sober him up.

We had a brief tour around the factory where the minerals are all separated and learnt more about the conditions that the miners are subjected to. We couldn`t believe how horrific their jobs were and how much it made us feel like idiots for ever complaining about our standard 9-5s back home. The miners rarely live past 50 because at some point they will all develop silicosis of the lungs which is caused by dust inhalation and makes them cough up bloody mucus. There are are also frequent cave-ins, runaway trolleys squashing people to death and no real way for the miners to protect themselves against falling rocks. Worst of all the Bolivian Government gets a 16% cut of their wages but doesnt do anything to improve their lives. Most shocking of all though is the fact that kids as young as 12 work in these conditions knowing that in 20 years or so they will start coughing up blood and then will undoubtedly die young.

Faced with these cheerful facts we headed over to the mines, if kiddlywinks as young as 12 can face the horrors of these mines every day then surely we could grow a pair, suck it up and survive for just over an hour? Oh how wrong we were. Nothing could have prepared us for the conditions.....firstly the air is so thin and full of dust that its almost impossible to catch your breath, the passages are so small in parts that you have to crawl over jagged rocks on your hands and knees or slide on your bum grabbing at the walls for support. All this combined with the physical exertion in 45 degree heat and lots of layers. To be fair, if we hadn`t eaten so many bloody empanadas and so much ice cream in Argentina we might have been able to slip through a little easier. Another little treat was that after 20 minutes of us grappling at the walls with our hands and poking at all the rocks, our guide helpfully pointed out that we shouldn`t touch our mouths and eyes with our hands because "the walls are covered in arsenic.....and asbestos". Health and Safety anyone?

Tay didn`t know she was a bit claustrophobic until she found herself sliding inch by inch on her belly completely out of breath, and it soon all got a bit much and she had to admit defeat. The guide had rushed ahead and on getting no response to the standard "are we nearly there yet?" question, she decided to take matters into her own hand and asked the second guide to go back to the surface with her. Not however, before an embarrassing episode which involved her bottom lip going and some fairly pathetic girlie tears. Wuss.

Jodes was brave and stuck the tour out to the bitter end. Must be the South Wales blood in her veins. She met a miner who was 54 and had been working in the mines for 35 years. As she was speaking to him he coughed up hunks of bloody phlegm, the early signs of silicosis. This was the final straw for Jodes who at this point also hit the tears and on the way back to the surface fell apart. Luckily for her Erik the Swedish guy was quite sensitive to her hormonal state and coaxed her up with words of encouragement. The experience left us completely shocked and a bit shaken up, Tay maintains (even three weeks after) that it is probably one of the least enjoyable hours of her whole life. Jodie takes a more noble approach to the tour and maintains it was a real-eye opener. But at the end of the day neither of us would repeat the experience, probably not even for a snuggle with George Clooney. Feeling really sick and exhausted, we were perked up immediately by the dynamite explosion which you would think would only be exciting for a 12 year old boy, but it was in fact really fun and we each got a turn to hold the dynamite after the fuse had been lit. Explosions, yeah!

That day we headed to Sucre, which was a really pretty town but couldn`t really be enjoyed because everyone bar Robbi (and his iron gut) had come down with Bolivia Belly and took it in turns vomiting into hostel room bins, toilets, plastic bags or whatever vessel was closest. We did manage a group trip to the cliff face where dinosaur footprints have been preserved in the stone. It was really incredible, and way more exciting than the disappointing fossil place in San Juan, Argentina. It felt like Jurassic Park and they`d even gone to the trouble of playing dinosaur noises over the speakers.

With Sucre came a sad turn of events when Roberto Rausa flew the nest and headed off the Galapagos Islands on his own.

Then there were two.

written by

JodesAndTay on April 15, 2010 from Potosi, Bolivia

from the travel blog: Jodes and Tay escape to SA

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"D'ya thinkhesauras" My goodness what adventures you have had, I defiantely think you need to send an update to the Lonely Planet Guide Book to say nobody should venture down those mines!!

I wish you were less like your Dad Joey and more like me I would have been up top holding the coats....

Keep safe and don't do anything else dangerous my nerves won't stand it and we won't even go there with DEATH ROAD!!!!!!

written by Aged Mummy Cooper on April 16, 2010

Thank goodness Robbi was there to Comfort you both. Sounds awful and you have an uncle who spent his life down pit,Helen. No pit ponies though to make you even sadder. Please no more such escapades!
Mummy Taylor, already old and grey!!!! xxxxx

written by pat taylor on April 17, 2010

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