Thursday, September 27, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Planning a new trip
So we may it back safe and sound. What a trip! At the moment I am actually planning another trip to take after the fall semester gets out in December. I'm creating this post as a buffer so I can come back when I have time and write up the places we stayed to the best of my memory and rate them for anyone who is interested in heading to Bolivia, Peru, or Chile. Cheers!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Wandering around La Paz and more pictures uploaded
La Paz is much more calm than I thought it would be; today there was a procession of protesters yelling, "When?! Now is when!" over and over (pictures in album 8). Some of the roads are blocked because of the crowds, but it is pretty relaxed so far. We got in yesterday around 4:30 PM and checked in to Hostal Cactus; $6 per night, book exchange, warm blankets and fairly clean bathrooms. Excellent value.
We've done some shopping as well as visited the Coca musuem a little over an hour ago. The musuem is small, but boasts loads of information about the Coca plant, from ancient Andean religion to present-day business issues. Originally, when the Spanish came in contact with indigenous Andeans using coca for a plethora of things like communing with the divine, greeting friends and confirming marriage plans, and working in the fields, the foreigners labeled the plant diabolical. This label was used probably because of coca's significance in joining the sacred and profane realms of the Andean cosmos. A plant with such meaning posed an obstacle for christian conversion. The plant was outlawed until in Potosi, Bolivia they realized coca helped the men work harder and longer, resulting in more minerals to be sold. Coca was then legalized and a 10% tax was placed on it.
Coca is traditionally chewed, first by removing the stems of the plant, usually with the teeth, and then wadding up the leaves and placing them inside your cheek. The teeth are used to lightly chew the leaves to break the cell walls, releaseing the active ingredients. It is used in similar ways as coffee in Western countries; after meals, while talking with friends, or for a mild boost. After 10-15 minutes, the ingredients begin working and you feel a very mild euphoria, mild cheek numbness, and increased energy. According to the museum, cocas chemical properties allow for increased oxygenation in the blood and serves as a diuretic, preventing clotting, etc, plus much more. All of these effects are beneficial when living in high altitudes and it is no wonder why coca has been used for over 4500 years among Andean cultures.
The museum also had information on the beginnings of Coca Cola. Evidentally, the US still buys coca from Bolivia to use as flavoring in Coca Cola (interesting, since I heard from another source that the US was one of the leading funders of coca eradication in Bolivia and elsewhere. For our purpose and our purpose only, I suppose). In 1985, the US bought something like 15 tons of coca from Bolivia to use in commerical products. It was originally used in wines, but during prohibition people still wanted something that gave them the same kick, so Coca Cola was born.
Bolivia has gone to great lengths to industrialize coca, making medicines, drinks, candy, even coca condoms! However, coca remains controversial of course because of synthesized cocaine (50% of which is consumed in the US, according to the museum). I believe it was in the 1950's that the UN stated, based on reported information that coca (not cocaine) causes mental retardation (which is doesn't), that coca was the cause of South America's poverty. I suggest to anyone who believes this to read up on dependency theory before making up your mind.
Now, Jessie and I are waiting for the museum of ethnography and folklore to open at 3. Tomorrow we may mountain bike down "the world's most dangerous road," althought I'm a bit tired of being a tourist... I just wanna relax!
Much love from La Paz! Oh yea, more pics are up in album 8... enjoy!
We've done some shopping as well as visited the Coca musuem a little over an hour ago. The musuem is small, but boasts loads of information about the Coca plant, from ancient Andean religion to present-day business issues. Originally, when the Spanish came in contact with indigenous Andeans using coca for a plethora of things like communing with the divine, greeting friends and confirming marriage plans, and working in the fields, the foreigners labeled the plant diabolical. This label was used probably because of coca's significance in joining the sacred and profane realms of the Andean cosmos. A plant with such meaning posed an obstacle for christian conversion. The plant was outlawed until in Potosi, Bolivia they realized coca helped the men work harder and longer, resulting in more minerals to be sold. Coca was then legalized and a 10% tax was placed on it.
Coca is traditionally chewed, first by removing the stems of the plant, usually with the teeth, and then wadding up the leaves and placing them inside your cheek. The teeth are used to lightly chew the leaves to break the cell walls, releaseing the active ingredients. It is used in similar ways as coffee in Western countries; after meals, while talking with friends, or for a mild boost. After 10-15 minutes, the ingredients begin working and you feel a very mild euphoria, mild cheek numbness, and increased energy. According to the museum, cocas chemical properties allow for increased oxygenation in the blood and serves as a diuretic, preventing clotting, etc, plus much more. All of these effects are beneficial when living in high altitudes and it is no wonder why coca has been used for over 4500 years among Andean cultures.
The museum also had information on the beginnings of Coca Cola. Evidentally, the US still buys coca from Bolivia to use as flavoring in Coca Cola (interesting, since I heard from another source that the US was one of the leading funders of coca eradication in Bolivia and elsewhere. For our purpose and our purpose only, I suppose). In 1985, the US bought something like 15 tons of coca from Bolivia to use in commerical products. It was originally used in wines, but during prohibition people still wanted something that gave them the same kick, so Coca Cola was born.
Bolivia has gone to great lengths to industrialize coca, making medicines, drinks, candy, even coca condoms! However, coca remains controversial of course because of synthesized cocaine (50% of which is consumed in the US, according to the museum). I believe it was in the 1950's that the UN stated, based on reported information that coca (not cocaine) causes mental retardation (which is doesn't), that coca was the cause of South America's poverty. I suggest to anyone who believes this to read up on dependency theory before making up your mind.
Now, Jessie and I are waiting for the museum of ethnography and folklore to open at 3. Tomorrow we may mountain bike down "the world's most dangerous road," althought I'm a bit tired of being a tourist... I just wanna relax!
Much love from La Paz! Oh yea, more pics are up in album 8... enjoy!
Monday, July 23, 2007
The final stretch - La Paz, here we come.
We just reconfirmed our plans with the travel agency and we have the green light to fly to La Paz. The woman informed us when we bought the tickets that planes are frequently rescheduled for various reasons and I figured the record number of protesters present in La Paz voicing their opposition of the decision to move the capital of Bolivia to Sucre was reason enough to delay our trip. I haven't seen much about it on the news, only the the first couple days it was occuring, along with news of the miner strike, so I'm unsure about the status in the streets. I've read that close to 2 million people gathered to protest on July 20th... I would imagine it would be difficult to disperse that many people in a matter of a few days, especially if many of them are poor indigenous who migrated to La Paz from all over the country. I suppose we will find out soon.
There is absolutely zero visible unrest here in Cochabamba. We haven't seen any protesting of any kind; perhaps because Cochabamba is a bit more affluent than the northwestern regions of Bolivia and the consolidation of the capital at Sucre is a welcomed change for the people who live here.
If anyone is interested in reading more about what's occuring, I've posted a few links below.
Bolivians rally against effort to move capital city - CNN
Protesters pack streets to keep present capital
Angry Bolivians march on capital
Bolivians reject moving capital
There is absolutely zero visible unrest here in Cochabamba. We haven't seen any protesting of any kind; perhaps because Cochabamba is a bit more affluent than the northwestern regions of Bolivia and the consolidation of the capital at Sucre is a welcomed change for the people who live here.
If anyone is interested in reading more about what's occuring, I've posted a few links below.
Bolivians rally against effort to move capital city - CNN
Protesters pack streets to keep present capital
Angry Bolivians march on capital
Bolivians reject moving capital
Thursday, July 19, 2007
T.I.B - This is Bolivia
We made it out of Potosi. Yes... yes, we did. We had to take a taxi to the blockade and walk across. The street was congested with large trucks and boulders fallen from the nearby rock face. We heard the occasional explosion of dynamite nearby, which was probably how they were breaking the rocks loose. Jessie and I just walked right through, for about 30 minutes, past the blockade and hundreds of people just sitting around with Bolivian flags or sleeping. After we cleared the blockade we walked past loads of trucks, buses, and cars jammed on the small road entering Potosi. At the end there were groups of people waiting to catch a ride to Oruro or Challapata, a town an hour outside of Oruro, so we waited, too.
We met two fellow backpackers, one from Argentina and the other from Spain. They offered us water and food and we all waited together to hitch a ride, which came after about an hour of sitting on our backpacks and watching the Argentinian balance juggling objects on his nose. We all piled into a small microbus headed for Challapata and sat on top of eachother for 3 hours until we reached the bus terminal where we jumped on another, larger bus headed for Oruro.
We arrived in Oruro after 1 1/2 hours and then made the hasty decision of jumping on yet another bus to Cochabamba. Jessie started feeling ill and actually puked 4 times in the terminal... I felt horrible for buying the tickets and making her go to Cochabamba that night. On her way to the bathroom on one of her vomit runs she collided with an older gentleman, spilling the change he clenched in his hands all over the floor. She bent down in attempts to help him pick it up, amidst the laughter of the onlooking ladies in the terminal, but the nausea from her belly was beckoning her to get into the bathroom, pronto. She looked at the man after handing him one Boliviano (the currency here in Bolivia) and said, "Lo siento, estoy enferma" (I'm sorry, I`m sick). She turned and hustled toward the bathroom, but it was too late. She pulled the classic hand-to-the-mouth tactic and met her unpleasent bowl sensation face first. Sorry for the graphic account, Jessie wanted me to tell everyone =).
We boarded the bus, anxious to get to a bed in Cochabamba where we could sleep comfortably. It is 4 or so hours from Oruro to Cochabamba. I slept most of the way... until I awoke to the bus coming to a halt behind a line of other vehicles an hour and a half outside Cochabamba, in the middle of nowhere.
Another blockade.
We waited an hour, hoping we would be able to pass, but when we saw everyone on the bus making themselves comfortable, we knew we would be sleeping on the bus that night. It was around 12:30 AM. So, at this point, Jessie was not feeling so great, I was on the verge of becoming considerably irritated, and we had no food and little water. So, we did the only thing we could do: sleep.
At 4 AM I was awoken by the rustling of a family on the bus getting their bags from the overhead compartments. The oldest woman, probably the mother, told me they were going to walk half a kilometer to the blockade and get a ride on the other side. I woke Jessie up and told her I was sorry, but it was time to walk. We gathered our backpacks and began walking, flashlight in hand, with the Bolivian family. It was much longer than a kilometer, but we were too tired to care. I was happy we decided to walk instead of waiting for the blockade to end (some people on the bus had said it would dissipate around 6 AM. They HAD to be wrong). We walked, again, past loads of traffic jammed trucks, buses, and cars, only this time the stench of exploded dynamite permeated the early morning air. When we reached the end of the traffic jam, we found ourselves weaving in and out of hundreds of sleeping bodies covered with blankets in the middle of the road, complete with boulders and debris for blocking traffic. There were huge bonfires in truck tires with loads of men standing around them, warming themselves. The tension was thick in the air... it was almost eerie silent, save for the mild chatter of the protesters who were still awake. We walked over a bridge past a second bonfire and had to duck under a long Bolivian flag stretched across the road. The Father of the family we were walking with ordered us to stay in a group as we walked right through the horde of men standing on the bridge. A few whistled as Jessie passed, but other than that, they made no attempt to talk with us and they weren't violent in any way.
Once we made it past the blockade there were microbuses waiting on the other side. The Bolivian man said we could go with him and his family to their town then catch another bus or taxi to Cochabamba. We were fortunate, however, to find a microbus going straight to Cochabamba and the man and his family were let off along the way, since they lived right outside the city. The microbus took us to the bus station in Cochabamba where another man who rode the bus with us politely directed us where to go and which taxis were safe and which ones were not. We got a taxi and arrived at our hostal at 6:30 AM. We watched an early episode of Desperate House Wives in our room before sleeping until noon.
Today, we have walked around the plaza area of Cochabamba, eaten some vegetarian food, and looked for a plane ticket to La Paz. We are gonna have to suck it up and spend the money to fly out of Cochabamba because, according to many locals, the roads into La Paz are "conflicted" with blockades. With less than a week before our plane leaves for the states, I don't want to risk another night like last night. As reassurance to our parents, we are totally fine... we just experienced a minor inconvenience.
To anyone considering traveling to Bolivia, especially the areas of Potosi, Sucre, Cochabamba, La Paz, Santa Cruz, and Uyuni, I would advise you to wait, unless, of course, you want to see for yourself what is happening. Just be prepared. We called the US embassies in Cochabamba and La Paz and they were no help at all... they offered no assistance and no advice on how to get out of the country. They didn't even know what was going on. Yay for the US.
The computers here don't have USB ports so I can't upload photos yet, but I tried to capture what was happening the best I could. When I upload them, I will let everyone know.
We will post again soon! Much love to everyone back home! We can't wait to see you all soon!!
We met two fellow backpackers, one from Argentina and the other from Spain. They offered us water and food and we all waited together to hitch a ride, which came after about an hour of sitting on our backpacks and watching the Argentinian balance juggling objects on his nose. We all piled into a small microbus headed for Challapata and sat on top of eachother for 3 hours until we reached the bus terminal where we jumped on another, larger bus headed for Oruro.
We arrived in Oruro after 1 1/2 hours and then made the hasty decision of jumping on yet another bus to Cochabamba. Jessie started feeling ill and actually puked 4 times in the terminal... I felt horrible for buying the tickets and making her go to Cochabamba that night. On her way to the bathroom on one of her vomit runs she collided with an older gentleman, spilling the change he clenched in his hands all over the floor. She bent down in attempts to help him pick it up, amidst the laughter of the onlooking ladies in the terminal, but the nausea from her belly was beckoning her to get into the bathroom, pronto. She looked at the man after handing him one Boliviano (the currency here in Bolivia) and said, "Lo siento, estoy enferma" (I'm sorry, I`m sick). She turned and hustled toward the bathroom, but it was too late. She pulled the classic hand-to-the-mouth tactic and met her unpleasent bowl sensation face first. Sorry for the graphic account, Jessie wanted me to tell everyone =).
We boarded the bus, anxious to get to a bed in Cochabamba where we could sleep comfortably. It is 4 or so hours from Oruro to Cochabamba. I slept most of the way... until I awoke to the bus coming to a halt behind a line of other vehicles an hour and a half outside Cochabamba, in the middle of nowhere.
Another blockade.
We waited an hour, hoping we would be able to pass, but when we saw everyone on the bus making themselves comfortable, we knew we would be sleeping on the bus that night. It was around 12:30 AM. So, at this point, Jessie was not feeling so great, I was on the verge of becoming considerably irritated, and we had no food and little water. So, we did the only thing we could do: sleep.
At 4 AM I was awoken by the rustling of a family on the bus getting their bags from the overhead compartments. The oldest woman, probably the mother, told me they were going to walk half a kilometer to the blockade and get a ride on the other side. I woke Jessie up and told her I was sorry, but it was time to walk. We gathered our backpacks and began walking, flashlight in hand, with the Bolivian family. It was much longer than a kilometer, but we were too tired to care. I was happy we decided to walk instead of waiting for the blockade to end (some people on the bus had said it would dissipate around 6 AM. They HAD to be wrong). We walked, again, past loads of traffic jammed trucks, buses, and cars, only this time the stench of exploded dynamite permeated the early morning air. When we reached the end of the traffic jam, we found ourselves weaving in and out of hundreds of sleeping bodies covered with blankets in the middle of the road, complete with boulders and debris for blocking traffic. There were huge bonfires in truck tires with loads of men standing around them, warming themselves. The tension was thick in the air... it was almost eerie silent, save for the mild chatter of the protesters who were still awake. We walked over a bridge past a second bonfire and had to duck under a long Bolivian flag stretched across the road. The Father of the family we were walking with ordered us to stay in a group as we walked right through the horde of men standing on the bridge. A few whistled as Jessie passed, but other than that, they made no attempt to talk with us and they weren't violent in any way.
Once we made it past the blockade there were microbuses waiting on the other side. The Bolivian man said we could go with him and his family to their town then catch another bus or taxi to Cochabamba. We were fortunate, however, to find a microbus going straight to Cochabamba and the man and his family were let off along the way, since they lived right outside the city. The microbus took us to the bus station in Cochabamba where another man who rode the bus with us politely directed us where to go and which taxis were safe and which ones were not. We got a taxi and arrived at our hostal at 6:30 AM. We watched an early episode of Desperate House Wives in our room before sleeping until noon.
Today, we have walked around the plaza area of Cochabamba, eaten some vegetarian food, and looked for a plane ticket to La Paz. We are gonna have to suck it up and spend the money to fly out of Cochabamba because, according to many locals, the roads into La Paz are "conflicted" with blockades. With less than a week before our plane leaves for the states, I don't want to risk another night like last night. As reassurance to our parents, we are totally fine... we just experienced a minor inconvenience.
To anyone considering traveling to Bolivia, especially the areas of Potosi, Sucre, Cochabamba, La Paz, Santa Cruz, and Uyuni, I would advise you to wait, unless, of course, you want to see for yourself what is happening. Just be prepared. We called the US embassies in Cochabamba and La Paz and they were no help at all... they offered no assistance and no advice on how to get out of the country. They didn't even know what was going on. Yay for the US.
The computers here don't have USB ports so I can't upload photos yet, but I tried to capture what was happening the best I could. When I upload them, I will let everyone know.
We will post again soon! Much love to everyone back home! We can't wait to see you all soon!!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
So I guess we aren't going to Sucre...
So, we are stuck in Potosi for who knows how long. We had a bus reservation to leave for Sucre at 7:00 AM this morning, but when we arrived we were told there were protests on the roads so no buses were operating. We tried to get a bus to anywhere else other than Potosi with no luck. Any place east and north of Potosi was closed. However, when we asked around about the blockade, everyone told us a different story. "Sure, you can go to Sucre... the road is open," "No, you can't go anywhere. All roads are closed." Etc. Etc. So after checking out of our hostal we went back and re-checked in. The roads around Potosi were blocked with cars so today was very quiet; no intrusive random honking from taxis. I've posted a few pictures of banners and signs posted around Potosi. Evidentally, as I mentioned briefly in the last post, Evo Morales is considering closing Cerro Rico because it is at risk of collapse. The miners aren't happy with this because the minerals that come out of the mine are the life blood of Potosi... according to our guide yesterday, "If the mine is shut down, Potosi will become like a ghost town."
We attempted to go back to the bus station to see if the roads were open yet and our taxi driver informed us that the miners were protesting in Potosi because the government is taxing the minerals very heavily, and since the miners work for themselves this, of course, means less money for them. According to the blog Bolivia Rising, there are also marches of indigenous peoples descending on Sucre and Cochabamba in a separate protest. I've also read that there are student protests occuring in Cochabamba, as well; however, I am unable to obtain much information about what exactly is happening. Jessie just attempted to call the US embassy in Bolivia to get the low-down, but it was closed. She even called the emergency line and got the machine!
Since I don't know much I can't make a sound judgment, but after seeing the loads of indigenous people forced to wait at the bus station for the roads to open so they can travel to larger cities to sell their materials in order to make a living, I question how exactly these protests are doing any good. I will be glad to learn more, but at the moment any activity that hinders the poorest people in the country from making their living irritates me.
Jessie and I are going to try and get to Cochabamba, hopefully tomorrow or in the next couple of days. If it comes down to it, we may have to go straight to La Paz. To my knowledge the protests aren't violent, definitely not in Potosi. It was actually kind of nice today to see everyone walking (since the Taxis had difficulty operating because the road blocks) and talking with eachother. And as I said earlier, it was very quiet and peaceful. Jessie and I took a nice nap then had a tasty lunch; cream of mushroom soup, mixed salad, and a pizza with an excellent fruit smoothy to wash it all down.
We will post again tomorrow and let everyone know the status of the protests! Oh, and if anyone knows anything, we'd love to know! For now we will just enjoy the quiet... maybe we will see history =).
We attempted to go back to the bus station to see if the roads were open yet and our taxi driver informed us that the miners were protesting in Potosi because the government is taxing the minerals very heavily, and since the miners work for themselves this, of course, means less money for them. According to the blog Bolivia Rising, there are also marches of indigenous peoples descending on Sucre and Cochabamba in a separate protest. I've also read that there are student protests occuring in Cochabamba, as well; however, I am unable to obtain much information about what exactly is happening. Jessie just attempted to call the US embassy in Bolivia to get the low-down, but it was closed. She even called the emergency line and got the machine!
Since I don't know much I can't make a sound judgment, but after seeing the loads of indigenous people forced to wait at the bus station for the roads to open so they can travel to larger cities to sell their materials in order to make a living, I question how exactly these protests are doing any good. I will be glad to learn more, but at the moment any activity that hinders the poorest people in the country from making their living irritates me.
Jessie and I are going to try and get to Cochabamba, hopefully tomorrow or in the next couple of days. If it comes down to it, we may have to go straight to La Paz. To my knowledge the protests aren't violent, definitely not in Potosi. It was actually kind of nice today to see everyone walking (since the Taxis had difficulty operating because the road blocks) and talking with eachother. And as I said earlier, it was very quiet and peaceful. Jessie and I took a nice nap then had a tasty lunch; cream of mushroom soup, mixed salad, and a pizza with an excellent fruit smoothy to wash it all down.
We will post again tomorrow and let everyone know the status of the protests! Oh, and if anyone knows anything, we'd love to know! For now we will just enjoy the quiet... maybe we will see history =).
Monday, July 16, 2007
One of the most humbling experiences of my life...
Ok, so today Jessie and I woke up and got a quick breakfast before our mine tour at 8:15 AM. We had heard that the tour was fantastic and we both were anxious to see what the mines were like. We began the tour by taking a small bus to a place where we could change into our "miner" gear, which consisted of a thin jacket and pants to cover our street clothes and a hard hat with a headlamp. We stored our extra stuff and then took the bus to the miner´s market on calle Hernandez and bought soft drinks and dynamite (yes, you can buy sticks of dynamite on the street in Potosi) to give as gifts to the miners. Our guide was excellent and he took the time to tell us all about the different kinds of dynamite (Bolivian dynamite is the best, of course) and about how every Friday around 5 PM the miners stop working and start drinking 192 proof alcohol (We all tried a *tiny* sip and it felt like our cheeks were going to melt off!). They go to a special place within the mine and give offerings of alcohol, coca leaves, cigarettes, and other things, to El Tio (Uncle). El Tio is synonymous for the devil to the miners and their homage to his effigy is important in keeping them safe within the mines. This ritual every Friday is tradition and very important to the miners.
We also bought some coca leaves to give to the workers at the mineral refinement plant that we visited before the mines. We got to the see all the equipment used in crushing and washing the rocks in order to extract and separate the minerals (primarily silver and zinc). According to our guide, there are over 30 companies working in the area that are responsible for shipping the minerals. The miners work for themselves and sell the minerals, in tons, that they extract to the companies individually. The mountain, called Cerro Rico in Spanish and Sumaj Orcko in Quechua, is owned by the government and not private companies and the miners must deal with the government if they want to mine the mountain. Only 10-20% of the minerals extracted from the mountain stay in Bolivia. Our guide informed us that most are shipped to Asian markets where they are used in electronics which are then, of course, sold back to Bolivians at high prices. They must ship their minerals over seas because noone is willing to invest in smelting technology in Bolivia since it is so expensive.
The mountain has had miners in it for over 500 years. The Spanish used to exploit African and indigenous slaves to work inside the mountain with only candle light. They instituted an obligatory labor service called "mita" which required the workers to work half day shifts for 6 months INSIDE the mountain without leaving. Those who were still alive after their mita service expired were then required to work down in the refinement plants where they sorted and seperated the minerals manually in a solution of mercury. Today the sorting is done with machines and 5 specific solutions (can´t exactly remember at the moment), but when we visited the refinement plant you could smell them thick in the air... probably not the healthiest environment to work in. The black slaves didn´t fare too well because of the altitude and cold temperatures; many of them died. Today most of their descendents live in the lower altitude regions of Bolivia as farmers, an environment more agreeable to their biological makeup. Supposedly over 8 million slaves, indigenous and african, died trying to extract wealth for the Spanish.
We packed up our gifts for the miners (coca leaves, soft drinks, and dynamite) and headed into the mine. Some pictures can be found in Album 6 and 7 pretty soon (some of the computers don´t have the plugins necessary to upload pictures to facebook). The quarters were tight and we were grateful for our hard hats because every other step we bonked our heads on the low, rock ceiling. The dust was thick and we held our handkerchiefs tightly over our mouths as we walked clumsily in our over-sized rubber boots. It was all fun and games until after we visited the miners musuem, which had various statues and pieces of information regarding mining life (17.5% of the miners die of respiratory infections). Our guide took us first up a level to see two men chipping away at rocks that fell into the carts below. The men wore no masks and we were told they would work atleast 10 hours today (and since the miners work for themselves, some of them work inside the mine for 24 hours!). He then took us down to the second level. I cannot stress how CRAZY this was and how clausterphobic I got. We had to seriously crawl on hands and knees through *small* tunnels. I felt bad for the 6´6" guy in our group. It was hot and hard to breathe with the handkercheifs over our mouths (eventually, at the expense of my lungs, I abandonded the handkerchief in order to breathe a bit easier). All you could see were the person´s feet in front of you illuminated by your headlamp. Once girl got too freaked out and decided to turn back... I don´t blame her. It was scary crawling through an extremely tiny tunnel and then realizing there is a hole right next to you that drops 20 feet to another level. It also didn`t ease the nerves when the guide tells you not to touch the ceiling because of the arsenic! I had fleeting moments where I thought it might be better to head back to the surface than to stick it out down in the mines, especially when I remembered reading this article.
On the second level we visited a lone miner who was working on manually creating a hole with chisel and hammer. After he reached the depth of the entire chisel he would then pack the hole with ammonium nitrate and a stick of dynamite. Every miner has fantasies of making it rich in the mines... indeed, they make a significant amount more than people who work down in the city. According to our guide, a miner a while back hit one of the principal deposits in the mountain and instantly became rich. They call him the "f**king lucky miner." After watching this lone miner chisel tediously away at the same hole, we gave him our gifts of dynamite and headed for the third level.
To get to the third level we had to wedge ourselves sideways with our feet between two pieces of wood on a wooden shaft then adjust the pressure on our feet to slide down. No ladders, elevators, or stairs. On the third level we got to do some shoveling alongside the miners before we headed back up to the surface. Heading back to the surface was more frightening than going down! It was much harder to breathe, probably because it was more strenuous trying to negotiate the small space and climb the slippery gravel 3 levels. We made it though, thank God, and afterwards blew up some dynamite on a hill nearby.
I could not believe the conditions in the mines... they were absolutely appalling. Children as young as 8 years old work as "gophers" (runners) in the mines, running between levels. The avg life expectancy is 50 years for someone who works in the mines. From being in there for 2 hours I feel like I´ve shortened my life a couple years... the minerals and dust *burn* the hell out of your throat and even now I have a fairly sharp headache. Maybe I´m just complaining, but I could not fathom working in the mines. Jessie said it best, "I would beg on the street before I went to work in there." It was an amazing experience, probably one of the most memorable of my entire life. It made me either want to stop buying electronics altogether or atleast pay more for them so someone can improve the conditions the miners work in. There was a certain sense of irony in taking pictures of the miners with a camera that was quite possibly made with Bolivian minerals.
For a while afterwards Jessie and I had some silent moments of reflection. I know I thought about the jobs I have had and my comfortable lifestyle. It made me regret ever complaining about anything in my life. Our guide asked us if we loved our jobs now, to everyone replying "Yes!" When he asked me if I wanted to work in the mine, I humbly and assuredly told him, "No, thank you."
We also bought some coca leaves to give to the workers at the mineral refinement plant that we visited before the mines. We got to the see all the equipment used in crushing and washing the rocks in order to extract and separate the minerals (primarily silver and zinc). According to our guide, there are over 30 companies working in the area that are responsible for shipping the minerals. The miners work for themselves and sell the minerals, in tons, that they extract to the companies individually. The mountain, called Cerro Rico in Spanish and Sumaj Orcko in Quechua, is owned by the government and not private companies and the miners must deal with the government if they want to mine the mountain. Only 10-20% of the minerals extracted from the mountain stay in Bolivia. Our guide informed us that most are shipped to Asian markets where they are used in electronics which are then, of course, sold back to Bolivians at high prices. They must ship their minerals over seas because noone is willing to invest in smelting technology in Bolivia since it is so expensive.
The mountain has had miners in it for over 500 years. The Spanish used to exploit African and indigenous slaves to work inside the mountain with only candle light. They instituted an obligatory labor service called "mita" which required the workers to work half day shifts for 6 months INSIDE the mountain without leaving. Those who were still alive after their mita service expired were then required to work down in the refinement plants where they sorted and seperated the minerals manually in a solution of mercury. Today the sorting is done with machines and 5 specific solutions (can´t exactly remember at the moment), but when we visited the refinement plant you could smell them thick in the air... probably not the healthiest environment to work in. The black slaves didn´t fare too well because of the altitude and cold temperatures; many of them died. Today most of their descendents live in the lower altitude regions of Bolivia as farmers, an environment more agreeable to their biological makeup. Supposedly over 8 million slaves, indigenous and african, died trying to extract wealth for the Spanish.
We packed up our gifts for the miners (coca leaves, soft drinks, and dynamite) and headed into the mine. Some pictures can be found in Album 6 and 7 pretty soon (some of the computers don´t have the plugins necessary to upload pictures to facebook). The quarters were tight and we were grateful for our hard hats because every other step we bonked our heads on the low, rock ceiling. The dust was thick and we held our handkerchiefs tightly over our mouths as we walked clumsily in our over-sized rubber boots. It was all fun and games until after we visited the miners musuem, which had various statues and pieces of information regarding mining life (17.5% of the miners die of respiratory infections). Our guide took us first up a level to see two men chipping away at rocks that fell into the carts below. The men wore no masks and we were told they would work atleast 10 hours today (and since the miners work for themselves, some of them work inside the mine for 24 hours!). He then took us down to the second level. I cannot stress how CRAZY this was and how clausterphobic I got. We had to seriously crawl on hands and knees through *small* tunnels. I felt bad for the 6´6" guy in our group. It was hot and hard to breathe with the handkercheifs over our mouths (eventually, at the expense of my lungs, I abandonded the handkerchief in order to breathe a bit easier). All you could see were the person´s feet in front of you illuminated by your headlamp. Once girl got too freaked out and decided to turn back... I don´t blame her. It was scary crawling through an extremely tiny tunnel and then realizing there is a hole right next to you that drops 20 feet to another level. It also didn`t ease the nerves when the guide tells you not to touch the ceiling because of the arsenic! I had fleeting moments where I thought it might be better to head back to the surface than to stick it out down in the mines, especially when I remembered reading this article.
On the second level we visited a lone miner who was working on manually creating a hole with chisel and hammer. After he reached the depth of the entire chisel he would then pack the hole with ammonium nitrate and a stick of dynamite. Every miner has fantasies of making it rich in the mines... indeed, they make a significant amount more than people who work down in the city. According to our guide, a miner a while back hit one of the principal deposits in the mountain and instantly became rich. They call him the "f**king lucky miner." After watching this lone miner chisel tediously away at the same hole, we gave him our gifts of dynamite and headed for the third level.
To get to the third level we had to wedge ourselves sideways with our feet between two pieces of wood on a wooden shaft then adjust the pressure on our feet to slide down. No ladders, elevators, or stairs. On the third level we got to do some shoveling alongside the miners before we headed back up to the surface. Heading back to the surface was more frightening than going down! It was much harder to breathe, probably because it was more strenuous trying to negotiate the small space and climb the slippery gravel 3 levels. We made it though, thank God, and afterwards blew up some dynamite on a hill nearby.
I could not believe the conditions in the mines... they were absolutely appalling. Children as young as 8 years old work as "gophers" (runners) in the mines, running between levels. The avg life expectancy is 50 years for someone who works in the mines. From being in there for 2 hours I feel like I´ve shortened my life a couple years... the minerals and dust *burn* the hell out of your throat and even now I have a fairly sharp headache. Maybe I´m just complaining, but I could not fathom working in the mines. Jessie said it best, "I would beg on the street before I went to work in there." It was an amazing experience, probably one of the most memorable of my entire life. It made me either want to stop buying electronics altogether or atleast pay more for them so someone can improve the conditions the miners work in. There was a certain sense of irony in taking pictures of the miners with a camera that was quite possibly made with Bolivian minerals.
For a while afterwards Jessie and I had some silent moments of reflection. I know I thought about the jobs I have had and my comfortable lifestyle. It made me regret ever complaining about anything in my life. Our guide asked us if we loved our jobs now, to everyone replying "Yes!" When he asked me if I wanted to work in the mine, I humbly and assuredly told him, "No, thank you."
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