Well, I guess I was too quick to judge Bolivia. Since I left Uyuni, a trash heap, I have found that there are plenty of paved roads and the women that wear traditional dress are found mainly in the rural areas. Potosi, the world´s highest city, was once one of the world´s richest cities. This is apparent from the abundance of beautiful and ornate buildings scattered throughout the city.
If you had asked me on the day I arrived in Potosi, I would have said the most dangerous part of the city was getting there. The night before I left Uyuni there was a big storm. Thus, on the drive from Uyuni, much of the road and many of the bridges were covered in mud or water. At one point our bus came upon an area where there were a bus, a work truck, and an adventure vehicle all up to their axles in mud. The driver made all the passengers get off the bus so that he could make a run at it. As the passengers crossed the muddy ¨river¨ on foot, the bus driver stepped on the gas. It was like a scene out of ¨Speed,¨ the bus was careening and honking, as passengers dove out of its way.
As crazy as that drive was, the most dangerous part of the city is its most common job: working in the mines. Not knowing what I was getting myself into, I signed up for a tour of the mines, which consisted of getting dressed in sexy safety gear (see above); going to the miner´s market to buy dynamite, coca leaves, toys, and 96% alcohol as gifts for the miners; and spending three hours walking to all levels of the mine. With the tight spaces, stifling air, and massive amounts of dust in the air, this tour is not for the fainthearted. At times we were hunched over, wading through calf-deep water, or crawling on our forearms. On the second level, our guide chose to tell us that the life expectancy of a miner is 45 years and that cave-ins are the most frequent cause of death. Very reassuring!
During the last five minutes of the tour, the guide appointed one of our group members, Rosco, to lead us out of the mine while the tour guide took a different route. Despite the fact that we followed the guide´s directions, we were more than a little panicked when we had to pass through a tunnel on our belly only to find logs piled up at the end. Just as we were about to turn around, we heard voices from above. It turns out that you have to climb the logs to get back to the first level.
I will never again be able to hear the phrase ¨the light at the end of the tunnel¨and not associate it with the wave of relief that swept over me when I saw daylight at the end of the mine. I was exhausted, I realized when I exited the cave, not because we had been working hard, but because I had been terrified most of the time we were inside. It´s strange that with all the crazy things I´ve done to get a rush--bungee jumping, parasailing, base jumping--this mine tour was the thing that scared me the most. Maybe because it was not a controlled risk. And, what is even scarier, is that it is a job that many Bolivians do every day despite the high rate of accidents, lack of proper safety requirements, and low life expectancy. These miners make, on average, only $100 every two weeks. According to a survey posted inside the mine´s museum, 90% of the miners do it because there are no other jobs.
After leaving the mines, the miners and our guides showed us how to properly ignite dynamite. We gutted the dolls we had bought at the miner´s market (our group´s doll was a glow worm), stuffed is with dynamite, and strung the wick through its mouth (see above). We lit eight of the "toys" at once. What a blast!
Later that night, one of the guides came out with a group of us staying at the Koala Den. He took us to a local bar, Karoake Fantasy. It was pretty amusing. The videos (and words) didn´t always match the song. We had a lively group though and managed to belt out ¨Dust in the Wind¨to the tune of ¨What´s Love Got to do with It?¨ Not an easy task.
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