Potosi - truly the place of the Devil's Miner

Arriving in Potosi after another overnight bus, it was immediately apparent we were in the world's highest city at 4070m.  Even before we got off the bus I started to feel a bit dodgy, and it only got worse.  Thankfully the English guys we met in Sucre had recommended a hostel to stay at, so we were able to get a taxi straight there instead of having to find one ourselves.  The beds weren't ready yet so we had to walk around for a while, so we got a nice cheap lunch and checked out the local market.  However, we both started feeling really lightheaded and struggling for breath, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.  I only got worse and felt like absolute shit - hard to breathe, lightheaded, nauseous, whole body ached and I couldn't sleep.  Someone in our dorm gave me a valium but that did nothing, so I tripled up the next night.  Luckily there's not really much to do in Potosi apart from the mine tour, so I was able to get some altitude sickness pills and rest up for a day before we did that.

As a city, Potosi is pretty damn depressing and the unescapable pollution from the vehicles really puts you off walking around at all.  It's hard enough to breathe as it is without throwing noxious gases into the mix.  Thanks to the discovery of silver and ore deposits in the mountain Potosi is set against, it was the biggest and wealthiest city in Latin America by the end of the 18th century.  Little of this former glory remains, but thousands of people still risk their lives daily by working in the mines.

We'd heard good things about the mine tours run through the hostel we were staying at, so we booked for the 8:30am tour on a Friday morning.  There were quite a few of us but we were split up into groups so we had a van and a tour guide for each group.  Our first stop was to a random little place to get geared up - pants, jacket, gumboots and helmet fully equipped with light.  We could also buy bandannas, and later on in the market, face masks, to guard against the dust.  Then we stopped off at the miners market where we bought gifts for the miners we came across on our tour.  They appreciate anything, but the most popular gifts are coca leaves, water, soft drink, cigarettes, alcohol (96% spirit) and of course dynamite, along with ammonium nitrate.  If such a store existed in any western country, kids (and quite possibly adults too) would be getting pissed and blowing shit (and themselves) up every week.  After a brief visit to the mineral refinery we finally arrived at the mine, and it was at about this time we started to wonder what the hell we'd gotten ourselves into.

Headlights switched on we trudged single file into the abyss, our guide in front and another guy bringing up the rear, on hand to lead anyone back out if they freaked out.  I was just hoping it wouldn't be me.  The first part of the tunnel was walkable, but we had to duck at regular intervals to avoid smashing our heads, especially the tall guys like Kurt.  Then came the first challenging part - crawling down a narrow passage to visit the devil, or 'Tio', that the miners worship to protect them in their hell below ground.  The working conditions the miners have to endure are so appalling that they believe God doesn't exist in such a place, and if they don't worship their Tio he will punish them by causing a collapse or some other horrible death.

It was shocking to see how the miners work - mostly by hand with basic tools, pushing and pulling trolleys by hand (300kg empty, 2 tonnes full), no safety provisions and no ventilation.  They survive their entire shift (anywhere from 4 to 24 hours) solely on coca leaves and water if they're lucky enough to have it, as the dust would contaminate any food they take down.  And temperatures can vary from freezing to a stifling 45 degrees.  The cherry on top is the exposure to noxious chemicals, which eventually kills most miners of silicosis pneumonia.  Sadly, most people in this town have no alternative to earn money, so the day they enter the mine is pretty much a death sentence.

As we came across miners the guide would ask them their name, their age and how long they'd been working in the mines.  Their ages ranged from 21 to in their 40's, but most had started when they were just a teenager (14-16).  They could barely spare breath to talk and were grateful for our gifts, but a bottle of water isn't really going to do shit for them.  Thankfully we didn't actually see any kids working, but another group saw a 16 year old.  If you've seen the documentary 'The Devil's Miner', it really is that bad.

Throughout the 2 hours we were down there, we had to crawl forwards and backwards on our backs or stomachs through narrow shafts, climb up and down dodgy rickety ladders and walk bent over at the waist to avoid the low ceilings.  The high altitude combined with the claustrophobic conditions made breathing so difficult, and our legs were like jelly from constantly walking in a squat.  I honestly don't know how those guys do it day after day, year after year.

It was definitely a unique and eye-opening experience, but we had no idea just how physically demanding or scary it would be.  So after only 2 hours, with muscles aching and lungs heaving, we were thankful to get the fuck out of there. 

After only 3 days in Potosi we were ready to move on, and preferably down, so we headed south to Tupiza.

Sweet as time in Sucre

After another couple of days in Santa Cruz we jumped on an overnight bus to Sucre, known as the 'white city' because of all the dazzling whitewashed buildings.  It used to be the capital city of Bolivia and is a Unesco Cultural Heritage site.  It really is a cool little city and we happily spent 5 days wandering around checking out the buildings, the central market and just chilling out.

As are most of the markets we've been to in South America so far, the one in Sucre was an overload for the senses.  Stand after stand of bright and colourful fruit and veges piled up high, fresh cheese and eggs, meat and chicken hanging out in the open air and the occasional cow/pigs head, spices and herbs, sweets and pastries and many other wonderful things.  There was also a bunch of stands selling fresh juice and smoothies, which were delicious and cheap.  And upstairs you could get hot meals of local Bolivian food.  Even if you don't actually buy anything, it's a great place to walk around and get lost for a while.

Sucre is at a slight altitude (2750m), and one day we walked up to the lookout for an incredible view over the whole city.  Terracotta rooftops stretched down below and up the surrounding hills.  There are also some cool buildings around the central plaza, so architects and painters would delight in this city.

As we tend to do, we met 3 English guys who were staying in our hostel so we went out with them one night for cheap food, cocktails and beers.  You really can't complain when you get a burger and chips and 2 cocktails for about $5.  We also met up with Rob and Melinda, the American couple who left the jungle volunteering just before us, so we shared stories and caught up over beers, mainly rejoicing in the fact we weren't in that hellhole anymore.

Unfortunately on the bus ride to Sucre a muscle in Kurt's shoulder started to hurt and it only got worse while we were in Sucre.  He could hardly lift his arm and couldn't find a comfortable position to ease the pain.  After trying a few different drugs we eventually went to a medical clinic to see a doctor.  I'd written down a few phrases in Spanish thanks to google translate so I gave these to the doctor when we went in.  However, the consultation amounted to the doctor reading the phrases then writing down about 8 different prescriptions for drugs to be administered intravenously.  She didn't even bother poking and prodding at Kurt's shoulder (possibly a good thing). We have no idea what any of the drugs were, but it only cost about $12 all up.  We didn't see the nurse do it, but we assume (and hope) that all of the drugs were put into one big bag of solution that was then slooooooowly fed through the drip.  And I mean slowly, like 3.5 hours.  However, after another couple of days Kurt was still in pain, so we just had to stock up on codeine and any other drug we could find.  So, loaded up with painkillers we moved onwards and upwards to Potosi.

Welcome to the Jungle

We'd read that the road crossing the border from Paraguay into Bolivia wasn't the greatest, but I still don't think we were quite prepared for it.  It started off OK, but it was at night when things changed for the worst.  We were both wearing shorts, t-shirts and jandals/thongs and had a jumper on hand just in case, but that was nowhere near enough.  Kurt had smartly taken trackpants on as well, but I had to resort to shoving my legs into a plastic rubbish bag to try and keep warm.  Classy.  And as if the cold wasn't bad enough, at about 3am we woke up coughing and struggling to breathe as the bus was full of dust from the dirt road.  So by the time we reached the Bolivian city of Santa Cruz after 20 hours, we were more than happy to get off the bus.

Santa Cruz isn't really worth writing about to be honest.  It's just a city with not much going on and not much to see or do.  We only stayed a couple of days before and after the jungle volunteering as a stop-off point.  However, we did see a sloth climbing a tree in the central plaza and got some great shots which was pretty cool.

And now for the tale of our short-lived volunteering experience at the wild animal refuge in the Bolivian jungle about 7 hours from Santa Cruz.  Things got off to a bad start right from the get go, as Kurt started feeling really sick on the bus ride out there.  By the time we got to the camp and sat down for the registration process, he had to take off into the bush for a spew.  Next, there was apparently no beds in the main camp for us and the Australian couple who arrived on the same bus, so we had to stay at the alternative camp about 5mins walk away.  However, we had no bedding and no mosquito nets and no toilet, which was bad news for Kurt as sick as he was.  Thankfully the next day we were able to move over to the main camp, but again, we had to wait about 4 days until we got sheets (no pillows).  For the first 3 days Kurt wasn't able to start work as he was too sick, but thankfully they didn't mind.  Apparently it happens quite a lot out there, which isn't surprising really as the water is pumped from right over the sewer system.  Smart.

We were both assigned our animals to work with, and thankfully we both got to work with cats which is what we were hoping for.  I was assigned a 6 year old male ocelot called Vanesso who was one of the most challenging cats in the park (attachment issues) and apparently injures everyone he works with.  Excellent.  Kurt would be working with two cats - Ru, a 100kg jaguar and Sayan, a puma.  Ru was too big to be walked on ropes like other cats, so he was on a runner system to protect the volunteers who worked with him.  Kurt had an interesting experience when visiting Ru one day though.  He hung his backpack up inside the cage so it wouldn't get muddy, but it was too much of a tantalising lure for Ru to resist.  The huge jag ended up 'playing' with it for about half an hour, hanging off it with his sharp claws.  But the backpack surprisingly held out and had only some claw marks to show for its close encounter.  It was one very powerful animal. 

My trainer was a Norwegian girl who'd been working with Vanesso for 3 months, so we spent a few days together walking the cat in the jungle until I would be walking Vanesso alone.  The walking rope is clipped onto another rope caribeenered around the waist, so it's basically like walking a dog.  Thankfully they'd recently added a metal pole to the end of the walking rope, so that when Vanesso jumps at you, you can hold him away a bit to avoid the worst of it.  Very reassuring.  Unfortunately, when you volunteer at the park you're not allowed to visit any other animals if you're not working with them, so we only got to see our own cats plus the 'house animals' and birds that everyone helps look after.  We also weren't allowed to take photos in the first week, so we don't even have pictures of our cats which sucks. 

Now to explain why the whole experience, which we'd been looking forward to for so long and thought would be one of the highlights of our whole trip, turned out to be the biggest disappointment.  There were so many things wrong with the place, both big and small, it's hard to put it all down.  But we'll try.

For starters, when Kurt was sick when we first arrived no-one bothered to ask over the following 3 days if he was OK or feeling any better.  This is obviously standard practice though, as we met a Spanish guy who said he was sick in bed for 4 days and no-one, not even the other people in his dorm, said hello or asked him once if he was OK or needed anything.  A real caring, sharing bunch of people.

In a similar vein, when we arrived none of the other volunteers (except for a couple of people) said hello or introduced themselves or did anything at all to make us feel welcome.  In fact, there's a bunch of long term volunteers who walk around like they own the place and are complete and utter wankers (and that's putting it mildly).  Those ones wouldn't even look new people in the eye when they walked past or acknowledge them in any way.  And there's so much high school bullshit going on it's unbelievable - gossip, love triangles, sluts and man whores and petty fighting all over the show.  It just made the whole atmosphere unbearable.  Also, everyone is more worried about going to the nearby village as many nights a week as possible to get fucked up, including Jill, the volunteer coordinator and administrator.  In fact, she was still so drunk/hungover on our 3rd day that she was almost falling over.  And everyone is like this every single Saturday and Sunday and they still go out and work with these wild cats.  Talk about responsible practices.

As for the animals themselves, the park claims to be rehabilitating as many animals as possible for release back into the wild, but that's the biggest load of shit.  You only have to be there for a day to realise it.  None of the cats can ever be released as they're too used to humans now, and the same goes for the monkeys and birds.  On top of that, half of the monkeys died while we were there due to a yellow fever outbreak.  Which, of course, the 'management' failed to tell all the volunteers about until after the fact.  And then they ask us all if we've been vaccinated against the disease.  A bit late for that don't you think, you fuckers?  Another thing they failed to mention was that the head 'vet' was in hospital with dengue fever.  But that kind of thing isn't important for people to know when their entire bodies are covered with mosquito bites is it?  We also question whether the 'vets' are actually qualified in any way, shape or form.  Who knows what medicines and equipment they have in their 'clinic', but I can't imagine it's particularly well stocked.  They also didn't appear to have any kind of tranquiliser/dart gun to subdue the cats if any of them escape, which should be a top priority as it's not uncommon for them to escape apparently.  My trainer told me that if I came across an escaped cat while walking Vanesso to stay with him and protect him and cooee for help.  Fuck that, the two cats can fight it out while I get the fuck out of there thank you very much. 

The one thing that is so obvious is that the main aim of the organisation is to make as much money as possible.  In order to have a chance to work with a cat you have to commit to, and pay for, one month up front when you arrive - $500 a month per person.  While we were there, there were about 80 volunteers, most of which would have been staying for at least a month.  So it's a nice little earner they've got going on but we have no idea what all that money is spent on.  There's no electricity or hot water, so not on bills.  We ate rice, pasta and potatoes so not on food.  The cats ate less than 1kg of meat each per day, so not on meat.  And the accommodation and animal cages were pretty basic too.  Jill, the volunteer coordinator and administrator, was an Australian girl and she said their books were completely open - now we wish we'd asked to look at them to see what sort of creative accounting they do.  It was a total joke.

So after a few days we knew it was a complete scam and we were going to struggle to stay for the entire month without killing ourselves or someone else.  So, it was a blessing in disguise that proved to be our way out.  On a Friday afternoon my trainer and I were out walking Vanesso and he was being very stubborn, lying down and sleeping for an hour at a time.  Then it started raining which made things even worse.  Unfortunately the cats are the boss, so if they want to sleep for 5 hours then there's nothing you can do about it.  At about 5pm the trainer said don't worry, at 6pm they'll send someone out to check on us so we only have another hour to wait.  No worries.  6pm came and went and no-one arrived to help.  By this time it was getting dark and the cat was getting pissed off, so we had to double rope him to try and get him to move.  Then we got the ropes caught up in the swampy reeds and had to cut our way out which got the cat even more angry so he was trying to get to both of us.  It was 6:30pm by the time we got free and could head back to the cage in the pitch black.  Thank god the trainer was there because I had no idea which way to go and would have been stuck out there all night by myself with an angry ocelot.  When we eventually got back to camp the first thing I heard was Kurt yelling out my name, as he was worried I wasn't back.  Turns out that everyone in camp, except for Kurt, had fucked off to the village early for dinner and to get hammered.  Not one single person had bothered to check the keys to see that everyone was back safely before they left.  Complete assholes.  After a quick shower we got the next bus to the village because there was no alternative if we wanted to eat dinner that night, and we were both seething with rage.  My trainer said she'd yell at Jill, but I didn't hear any yelling.  It was pathetic.  And what's worse is that when the Australian couple we arrived with saw I wasn't back when they left, they mentioned it to Jill when they got to the village and she just shrugged her shoulders and did sweet fuck all.  I really wanted to punch her in the face then, especially when she didn't even ask if I was OK or apologise.

Early the next morning Kurt and I went for a walk to discuss our approach, as there was no way we were going to stay a minute longer.  We then dragged Jill out onto the road and gave it to her for about 10mins, saying the place was a joke, there were no safety measures and we couldn't trust anyone who worked there to have our backs if something went wrong again.  She of course had an excuse which was to blame someone else (very mature), but we didn't care.  We said that we were leaving and it was in their best interest to give us the rest of our money back.  Kurt said it in such a way as to leave no doubt that he meant business if they didn't.  In the end we got 2 out of the remaining 3 weeks money back, but we're pretty sure it's the first time they've ever given any money back to anyone.  Ever.  An American couple we made friends with left early a couple of days before us and they got nothing.

So, after one week we were packed up and back on the bus out of there.  Everyone obviously has a different experience, but we talked to enough people to know that it wasn't just us who saw the bullshit that was going on there.  It would be nice to think they do something to change things and make it better, but that's probably wishful thinking.  At least we made it out in one piece without any injuries - just a thousand mozzie bites.