Poorly Planned But There She Goes....

Post Salt Flat Traumas
There is so much to include but my health is at an all time low (read on to the end for more details) so no promises on quality.
Left Uyni (possibly the coldest place on earth) quicker than we even thought possible. The one saving grace of that place was "Minute Man" a pizza joint run by a true blue American, good service, awesome Sangria and great food (massive pizzas omlette breakfasts etc), sufficed after the lack on food and showers of the salt flats.

Uyuni to Potosi
A ´chicken bus´, complete with non-opening windows and crowded isles took us the supposed 6hrs that inevitably became 8. It was so cold outside I had thermals on and Goddamn was that a bad move (also, no toilet, oh, one stop, pissing behind things is an art you know. One must master this before entering Bolivia).

Then to Potosi, cute little town with heaps of bizzare costume shops and masses of cakes "Feliz Dia Mama", it was mothers day.
We spent a night in a ´pub', wandered the markets and street parades, saw some sights and then....Cerro Rico (rich hill).

The most horrific experience I've ever had. I´m sure others deal with it differently but the Silver Mines of Potosi are not a place I ever want to see again. Awesome day and glad i did it but never again. First we got into huge outfits to keep out dust, complete with gumboots, hard hat, head torch (with huge battery pack strapped to our backs) and bandanas to keep dust from our mouths which was suffocating enough. They took us to the Miners Market where I purchased dynamite (fun!) and drank a 96% alcohol (keeps the miners going apparently) also bought cocoa leaves, softdrink and cigarettes all for the miners.

So there goes my career as a miner
From there we drove up the massive mountain that towers over Potosi, it has up to (if you want more info, google it, really interesting history). Then into the mines we go. Someone told me there was about 5 meters where you have to crawl, they lied. It was dusty and dark and at times I was squeezing my body through the tightest little burrows inside this enormous mountain. The men working there have a very short life expectancy and after seeing them in action its obvious why. Two words: HARD LABOR. They work up to 12 hours a day 6 days a week, hardly see sunlight and many believe it is their purpose. As their fathers have done, as will they. Our guide worked in the mines from age 10 to 15 and luckily someone plucked him out to run tours.

Anyway, there were 3 levels in the mine we were in, by the end of level 2 I was crying uncontrolably and found it hard to keep my shit together. Friends with me were great and the guide made jokes to help pull me together (to no avail). Five words: GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE. Chewing cocoa leaves and now with unfamiliar company, speaking minimal English, I made the accent back to daylight and air (anyone who knows me well knows my issues when theres a lack of fresh air, well, demonstrated again!).
Its an odd feeling I can´t quite name, it didn't feel like claustraphobia, I wasn't particularly panicking, but I just couldn´t control my tears and continually thought, "WHY would anyone come down this mine of their own free will??" I didn´t enjoy it at all but am glad to have seen what some people have to do for a living. Rory's little OHS brain nearly exploded so he had to turn it off. Oh, and finally we blew up our dynamite, we made them up and I was actually holding one when the guide lit the fuse, mmmmmmm, safe. The conditions are below poor and way below illegal. These men are now paid quite a bit by Bolivian standards, but its not a trade off I´d like to make.

Potosi to Sucre
I forgot to mention, we´re still with the Aussie girls and have now made our group 6, Amy from Wales and Andy from England. So together, all shaken to our cores and exhausted we got on a bus to Sucre. It said 3 hours but allowed 8. Miraculously, it took only 3 hours!! Sucre is the Colonial capital of Bolivia so has some pretty amazing buildings. However, all the hostels were booked out and wandering the streets of Sucre at 10pm, homeless isn´t much fun. One thing I will say is that there was an eery likening to the hotel in ´The Shiníng´ and even the guy who owned the first one we saw was creepy. We didn´t stay there as to avoid waking up minus organs or being the subjects of backyard medical experiments (not an exaggeration!)

Ended up in the best room in town, the 6 or us in the HI hostel (besides the fact they took my phone from the room-dodgy circumstances) and the massive hangover obtained from the Joyride Bar, Sucre was kind to us. Rory and Dani went Paragliding and had a ball, we drank the best fresh squeezed OJ form the little man on the street. Had the best chocolate I´ve found in South America and spent a lazy homeless and hungover day waiting for the bus to La Paz.