Potosi - City of Silver

"I am rich Potosi
The treasure of the world
And the envy of Kings."

This quote from the city's first coat of arms sums it up. Silver was discovered in the mountain behind Potosi in 1545 and catapulted the city into being the richest in the Americas. The Spanish imported millions of African slaves to work alongside the indigenous people extracting silver from the mines. It is estimated that during colonial rule (1545 - 1825) as many as eight million Africans and indigenous Bolivians died in the appalling conditions.
We watched a documentary the other night about a fourteen year old boy and his twelve year old brother who work in the mines today, manually chipping out holes and laying explosives. Their story is heart wrenching as they explain how they worship God outside of the mine, but once inside the mine they must worship the Tio (the devil) because that is his realm and he can cause rocks to fall on them whenever he wants. Each mine has a statue of a Tio where the miners lay offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes and alcohol before they go to work. Sometimes they will sacrifice a llama outside the mine and paint the blood around the mine's entrance as well as on their faces.
Miners still work in unacceptable conditions today and many die from silicosis pneumonia before they turn forty.
It's so sad to imagine the amount of suffering happening all in the name of silver.
Driving into Potosi, I could see the faded grandeur of the colonial times. Buildings stood strong and proud but were old and tired. We checked in and decided to go and visit the National Mint. At 4070m I could feel the effects of the altitude as we made our way into town.
The Mint was built in 1572 under orders from the Viceroy of Toledo. The walls of the building were a meter thick and one large room housed immense assemblies of mule- driven wooden cogs that served to flatten the silver ingots into the width required for coining. At first the coins were shapeless bits of silver stamped with the mint mark "P". They were called Potosis.
After bits of the coins were getting hacked off and sold separately, the Spanish decided to start producing round coins. The wooden cogs were replaced with steam powered machines in the 19th century and eventually with electric machines. The last coins were minted here in 1953. Now all Bolivia's money is minted in Chile. The tour was interesting, but quite long and we were all getting hungry and chilly.

After a huff-puff walk back to the hotel, we got ready and headed out for dinner to a restaurant located in an old silver refinery building where they used to produce silver platters. I enjoyed a delicious llama steak covered in a wild mushroom sauce, served with mashed potatoes and washed down with a lovely syrah/merlot blend from Campo de Solana, a Bolivian vineyard.
As we left the restaurant the heavens decided to empty themselves onto Potosi and we skipped, hopped and jumped over the torrents running down the steep cobbled streets. Finally, back at the hotel, soaked, but thankfully not washed away, we dried off and crawled into bed.
The following morning our guide took us through narrow, winding roads almost to the outskirts of town, to a church locked up for most of the year, but with a sad story attached to it. It is said there used to be a very handsome monk at this church and he fell in love with a girl who used to visit it. She asked him to runaway with her so that they could be together, but when he refused she threw herself off the roof of the church. He felt so guilty that he did the same thing. Crazy love....
Picking our way through stray dogs and grubby children we made our way back into the main square and a quick walk through the market before heading to the bus station. As we passed through the meat section of the market, I had to do a double take at what was actually laid out on the counter for sale. Cow noses. Yes, a whole cow nose, would you like an esophagus to go with that. Yum!
Eventually at the bus station that was over run by, yes, you guessed it; dogs and little old Bolivian ladies selling everything from underwear to popcorn, we caught our bus to Uyuni. The hair raising ride went quite quickly considering most of it was on a curvy, corrugated gravel road. Covered in dust and exhausted from five hours of free butt massage, we showered, had dinner and collapsed into bed.
Tomorrow the surreal landscape of Salar de Uyuni awaits.

Sucre - Bolivia's White City

Sucre, Bolivia's most beautiful city is the pride of the nation. It was here that independence was proclaimed in 1825 and although La Paz is the seat of government, Sucre is Bolivia's capital. The whitewashed colonial style buildings hide cozy courtyards bordered by bright bougainvillea and paved in smooth cobblestones.
Our hotel had such a courtyard complete with fountain and fragrant rose bushes that was the perfect setting for catching up on my diary and enjoying the fresh air for a while.
Dinner was a typical Bolivian chicken dish with rice and re-hydrated freeze dried potatoes (one of 200 varieties in Bolivia) washed down with a home brewed beer called Chala. Interesting, is all I can say about the beer...
The following day was spent roaming around the quaint streets sampling hand-made quinoa chocolates, drinking fresh squeezed fruit juices and nibbling on fava beans on a balcony overlooking Plaza 25 de Mayo. The square was a hive of activity - dive bombing pigeons, old cholitas (indigenous Bolivian women) begging for a few coins, demonstrators banging their drums for the upcoming elections and families wandering around the beautiful geometric flower beds.
Later we strolled through the tree lined paths of the cemetery listening to the ramblings of the blind mourners who are paid to wail out prayers for other people's dearly departed. Bolivians of all shapes and sizes passed us with dodgy looking ladders on their shoulders making their way to the wall of tombs. Clambering up the ladders they would place fresh flowers and candles in the mini shrines adorning the tombs of their deceased loved ones.
We then headed to Sucre's version of the Champs Elysees at Parque Bolivar, a romantic rendezvous for the city's young couples whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears while robins flitted around the bushes beside them.
Our final stop was a walk through the produce market. The potato section sold over 100 different varieties of potatoes. There were freeze dried potatoes you could keep for four years and when ready to use just boil them for a few minutes and voila you have a ready to eat meal.
In the produce section water droplets glistened off colourful fruit and veggies piled around wrinkly faced Bolivian women. One of these women offered me an apricot and plum which, only after eating them did I realize I would probably have to buy some. I landed up with a bag of plums that I would never have finished and found a beggar who excitedly accepted them.
This afternoon consisted of more charitable activities as we visited an orphanage, bringing them nappies, fruit, cookies and milk powder. We spent the afternoon playing with these adorable, sad little beings. We did see some smiles and laughter and I particularly took to a little girl called Camilla. She gave me such a big hug when we left, I just wanted to take her home. The kids call everyone mama and papa......How sad is that?
The following day consisted of a three hour hike up a small canyon just outside of Sucre to see fossilized dinosaur footprints. After an hour of playing dodge the used diaper/plastic bag, we started a steep climb up the cliff face to the spot. It was incredible to see the wrinkles of the skin around the indent of the foot imprinted into the rock thousands of years old. A rainstorm caught us on the way back as we dodged pigs, dogs and a growing river to reach our taxi.
Tomorrow we leave for Potosi, once the richest city in South America and home to Cerro Rico - "the mountain that eats men alive"...

Crazy, colourful La Paz

The sprawling patchwork of rusty coloured fields gave way to equally rusty coloured houses as El Alto, Bolivia came into view from my airplane window. El Alto, an extension of La Paz lies on the escarpment above Bolivia's largest city. As my taxi descended from El Alto and rounded a hairpin turn, La Paz sprang into view. Thousands of apartment buildings clung to the walls of the canyon and spilled down the sides of the valley growing denser and denser towards the city center. The imposing Mt. Illimani stood guard behind "the city of our lady of peace", it's snow covered peak visible through a spatter of clouds.
La Paz reminded me slightly of Dehli. The chaos of the traffic, the people and animals weaving in and out through the cars and motorbikes. The fumes, the filth - but then also, the vibrance, the colours, the characters.
Local Bolivian women in their traditional dress of pleated skirt, embroidered shawl and bowler hat carried brightly coloured parcels on their backs, their agility surprising me as they dodged the honking trucks by inches.
There seemed to be no system to the traffic, everyone just drove, which resulted in a melange of vehicles all going in different directions, then suddenly coming to a standstill in the middle of a large roundabout. We landed up in one of these situations and finally after twenty minutes of absolutely nothing happening things started moving and we were off again, even if it was at a snail's pace. Normally a fifteen minute drive from the airport, it took us over an hour to get to the hotel. My room overlooked the busy street below. Oh it's going to be fun trying to sleep tonight, I thought.
On the plane from Chile I realized I left my iPhone charger in the hotel in Santiago, so the first order of business was to locate one in this crazy city. Where to start?
I found a small hole-in-the-wall shop that sold cell phone airtime and in a mix of broken Spanish and Italian I managed to convey what I was looking for. The very helpful shop owner showed me on the map the street where I needed to head towards. So off I went, skipping between cars, dodging the motorbikes and just pretty much going with the flow of mayhem.
It seemed each block had about thirty or more stalls/shops that sold exactly the same things. The first block I passed was all hardware. The second block - ceramic tiles, toilets and basins. The third block - light fixtures. The fourth - stereo equipment....ok, this is moving towards electronics, I must be getting closer. Ah - cellphones! The first stall had nothing. I spied a stall with a young, hip girl manning it and decided to try my luck there. She knew exactly what I was talking about, pulled the charger out, plugged it into my phone to show me it was real and sold it to me for $12. I was a happy traveller once again.
On the way back I bought three juicy mangoes for $1 from a street stall and had them for lunch. Then it was time to get out of the fumes and escape to the airy sunroom on the roof of my hotel..
That evening I met the people I'd be traveling with for the next eleven days. Milton, our guide, two Irish guys and two British girls made up our little group. After introductions and paperwork were done it was time for bed.
The following morning we headed back up to airport in El Alto to catch our 1:30pm flight to Sucre. As is the common occurrence in Bolivia, our plane was delayed for four hours. When we eventually fastened our seat belts, an announcement in Spanish advised us of yet another ten minute delay. I couldn't quite make out the reason for the delay, so I asked my neighbour if he could translate. "The people filling the water for the toilets are still busy." he told me, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. I sat back with a smile. This is Bolivia...
Finally, the engines revved into action and we started backing out. Now, I know at altitude a plane needs a longer distance to take off, but this was ridiculous! It seemed like we were thundering down the runway for a good minute before the plane finally rattled into the air.
After all of that , the next forty minutes rewarded us with the most spectacular scenery of snow capped mountains, jagged hills with spaghetti roads draped around their edges and giant scallop-shaped rock formations that lined the edge of the mountain range.
As we started our descent, the tops of the mountains got closer and closer until we were literally 200m above them. Then suddenly a sharp bank to one side, a field, some houses, a road, another field and touch down. Welcome to Sucre, Bolivia's capital and most charming city.

A taste of Santiago

South American breakfasts are a simple affair, usually comprising of bread, butter, jam and instant coffee. Meridiano Sur added a few extras - filter coffee, freshly squeezed raspberry juice, sliced fruit and pancakes filled with a gooey decadence called Dulche de Leche. Sitting outside on the terrace in the drizzle of jacaranda tree flowers, (luckily an umbrella prevented them from landing in my breakfast) I closed my eyes and took a sip of my juice as I let the morning sun warm me up for the day.
After a stroll around the tree lined streets of Provedencia, I came across a local spot called El Ancla (The Anchor). A good place to "drop anchor" for lunch, I think. The waiters were all your typical Latino looking men with their dark hair plastered back and their charming demeanors. Mario showed me to my table and asked me what I felt like drinking. "Bring me something cold and local," I said. Five minutes later I had a frozen Pisco Sour in front of me. "House special," he proudly said, grinning as he stepped back to watch me take my first sip.
Pisco is a potent brandy made from distilled grapes with a high sugar content. A pisco sour is three parts Pisco, one part limon de pica (a miniature lime), powdered sugar and ice all shaken vigorously together until the ice melts and the sugar dissolves.
Well, that first sip hit my empty stomach like an atom bomb. Luckily I had a basket of fresh bread rolls to munch on while I waited for my meal to arrive. I decided on the traditional ceviche. Reineta, a local white fleshed fish is cut into cubes and marinated raw in coconut milk, lime juice, chili and cilantro resulting in, if made correctly, a truly sublime taste.
Following that I had the camarones al pil pil (prawns with peri peri). Another mouth watering dish that had me sitting there "mmmmming" to myself and mopping up the sauce with my left over bread rolls. El Ancla, you have done yourself proud, I shall write a review about you in trip advisor.
I had just enough time for a power nap before my drive out to the south of Santiago and a tour of the famous Chilean winery of Concha y Toro. A stroll around the French landscaped grounds and the 200 year old manor house made me think of how different life must have been back then. I could just imagine ladies floating through the gardens in their Victorian dresses, parasols shading their faces from the harsh sun. Men chatting on the verandah in the late afternoon while sipping a Pisco and puffing on their cigars.
I could see Don Melchor, the owner, trying to think of a way to keep thieves from stealing his wine out of his cellar four meters underground. His solution turned out to be a rumour started by himself that the devil lived in the cellar, hence the name Casillero del Diablo (the devil's cellar), a now famous line of wines from Concha y Toro. Needless to say not another barrel was stolen.
After a taste of the Casillero del Diablo chardonnay, we ventured down the dark staircase to the famous cellar. A cellar built from dirt, stone and damp keeps the temperature and humidity at exactly the right levels.
Their more modern cellar which is air conditioned and humidity controlled houses up to 4000 barrels of wine. At 300 bottles a barrel, that's over a million bottles of wine. No wonder they are Chile's largest exporter.
A final taste of their best - Don Melchor Cabernet Sauvignon. Velvet on the tongue.
After a day of Pisco sours and wine I needed a cold bottle of water. I grabbed my bottle and headed for an inviting shady spot under the trees. I lay there on the perfectly manicured lawn, watching the sun sparkle between the swaying leaves above me and slowly dozed off.

Around the world in 90 days starts today

It was sheer exhaustion that numbed me to the incessant kicking in the back of my seat by a whining toddler with ants in his pants. I was not overly impressed with the airline I was flying with either. Ranked with five stars, it far from lived up to it's reputation, or maybe the fact that the entertainment system was not easy to navigate, the food was average and the stewardesses looked harried made me question it's spot as the seventh best airline in the world. Although I did notice an "under review" annotation next to it's name. Hmmm..
A stop over in Buenos Aires, a new airline and an upgrade to business class brought back my sanity. As I wiped my hands with a warm towel, sipped Malbec from a real wine glass and seasoned my delicious salad from mini ceramic salt and pepper shakers, my previous flight became a distant memory. Unfortunately the flight was only two hours and my bliss ended as we landed in Santiago, Chile.

I was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness and efficiency of the airport, so with not much effort I retrieved my backpack and headed out through customs. As I popped out the sliding doors into the arrivals hall I was expecting to see my name on a board with a friendly face behind it. Instead I was accosted by an array of Chilean taxi drivers waving their signs in my face with nothing but "taxi" written on them. I finally managed to convince them that I did indeed have someone picking me up. That someone arrived about half an hour late, his excuse being he was stuck in traffic. I must say, I have heard Santiago's traffic is nightmarish and I got the full experience on the way to my hotel as we fought the barrage of vehicles.
While we weaved in and out of traffic I gazed out the window at all the stories passing by. A complex of gingerbread houses, a Parisian style railway station and buildings, a busker strumming away at his beat up guitar while a girl covered in tattoos walks by puffing on a cigarette. A group of mariachis strolling along the sidewalk with their instruments, chatting away excitedly while a couple kiss at a bus stop. A park, full of jacaranda trees carpeting the grass with their falling purple flowers. A white cocker spaniel chasing another dog and getting scolded by his owner as she puts him back on the leash. A woman hosing down the grimy pavement outside her store while an elderly man in a panama hat checks his watch. The welcome-to-Santiago scenes were truly colorful!
We eventually turned down a street into the leafy suburb of Providencia and arrived at the cute Meridiano Sur Petit Hotel. It is petit, but also very trendy with minimalist design and lounge music playing softly throughout the premises . I sat out on the terrace with an hibiscus tea and caught up on my emails, letting loved ones know I had arrived safe and sound.
Eventually at 2:45am South African time, I crawled into bed. Needless to say, a lot can happen in a twenty two hour day!