After two days in Loki World, La Paz, I decided that I had had enough of the freezing cold and bought a flight to Rurrenabaque, in the Bolivian jungle. But first a few words about Loki and La Paz: I was pleasantly surprised by both. Loki has a reputation as one of the biggest “party” hostels in South America and while I am generally not a huge fan of them, I wanted to see for myself. The hostel itself was great, well organized, really friendly staff, good, cheap food, and the party atmosphere was actually surprisingly nice, not too crazy, not too loud, not too gringo, not even too young, actually. As for La Paz, I’ve been warned of the negatives, and it is true that there is a lot of pollution and it’s a big city with not a whole lot of attractions. However, the setting is so impressive and beautiful, stretched out from the bottom of the valley over the entire hillsides, flanked by sheer rock faces and with a backdrop of 6000+ meter mountains, that I found the city to be quite mesmerizing and really one of the most beautiful and unique cities I have visited. I was quite tempted to join some of my friends on a three day trek to Huaya Potosi and get the world’s easiest 6000 meter summit under my belt but my time was limited at this point and when faced with the choice between three more days in freezing temperatures and a week in tropical climate, the decision seemed easy.

So the next day I boarded one of the smallest planes I have ever been on without a parachute strapped to my back, left behind the freezing altiplano and after just 30 minutes landed in Rurrenabaque. I was greeted by topical temperatures and the place felt like Thailand or Laos, small straw thatched shacks and beach bars line the roads and every second house is an agency offering jungle and pampas tours. The next day I left on a three day tour of the pampas which was amazing, we cruised up and down a river, its banks lined with alligators, birds, capibaras – the worlds biggest rats, essentially, the first time I spotted one on the shore I thought it was a dog the size of a German shepherd – and turtles, and its waters filled with piranhas and pink river dolphins. Despite the presence of alligators and piranhas, we even went for a swim with the dolphins, or to be more precise, shared the water with the dolphins who quickly tried to get away from us but fortunately neither the piranhas nor the alligators showed any interest in us either. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about the mosquitos who proved the most aggressive animal of the pampas during a futile search for anacondas on land. The tour was strategically organized, only on our last day did we tried our hand at piranha fishing, I am not sure I would have gone into the water had I known how quickly these little guys will nibble away at the meat we used as bait. I had never fished before and was pleasantly surprised that not only did I enjoy it very much but also pulled several piranhas, one catfish, a few sardines and countless leaves out of the water.

The pampas tour was amazing, but unfortunately things went downhill from there. Back in Rurrenabaque we were unpleasantly surprised that the weather had changed completely from sunny and hot to rainy and cold. The next day I left on a three day tour of the jungle, something I had envisaged as the highlight of my trip to Rurre. I had selected a non-profit conservationist jungle camp which came at a price about twice as high as all other excursions I had done in Bolivia, but proved to be a mediocre experience at best. The tour was not well organized, with glitches such as wet bags from the freezing cold boat ride, being the only group that was denied a whole day excursion because of bad scheduling (we needed to drop off other guests at the lodge during the only full day we had there), crappy meal service (very tasty food, but don’t you dare and ask for anything in addition such as another glass of juice or another scoop of dulce the leche, even requests for more hot water at breakfast were met with raised eyebrows, in stark contrast to every other and much cheaper tour I have been on in Bolivia). We also began to question the nature of the conservation work that is actually been done at the reserve (tame monkeys are supercute, but really?) as well as the support for any local communities. Other than monkeys we also did not get to see any animals, which was disappointing but is in the nature of the jungle, however this is something that was only emphasized once we arrived at the lodge, at the booking office we had been told that it was almost guaranteed we would see ant eaters, sloths and wild pigs, and possible even a jaguar. All in all, I was only too happy to return to Rurre, leave my feedback at the booking office and on Tripadvisor and board the miniscule plane bound for La Paz. Only 48 hours of bus travel to go until Buenos Aires.

Week 1 – Salar de Uyuni

Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt flat on Earth. Neither the shoestring edition of the traveler’s bible nor our tourguide provided a geological explanation but some quick internet research yielded the following interesting facts about this natural phenomenon: The area is the remnant of prehistoric Lake Minchin, which left behind the enormous salt deposits visible today. Salar de Uyuni contains approximately 10 billion tons of salt, 25,000 tons which are mined annually. The center of the Salar contains a few “islands”, such as the picturesque Isla de los Pescados with its ancient cacti forest, which are the remains of the tops of ancient volcanoes which were submerged during the era of lake Minchin. When it rains on Salar de Uyuni, much of the water is not initially absorbed into the ground, which causes much of the flat to be covered in a shallow pool of water. When this happens, the land looks very much like a mirror, casting a reflection of sunlight and the sky. This phenomenon is utilized for satellite calibration in space because it is such a large, visible target. We were lucky in that although we visited the Salar during the dry season, a few parts were still covered in water and we were able to see both the mirror effect and the dried surface of the Salar.

In addition to having the world’s largest salt deposit, Salar de Uyuni also contains half of the world’s known Lithium reserves. Underneath the surface of the Salar is a lake of brine 2 to 20 meters (7 to 66 ft) deep. The brine is a saturated solution of table salt, lithium chloride and magnesium chloride in water. It is covered with a solid salt crust with a thickness varying between tens of centimeters to a few meters. As more and more efficient lithium powered batteries are being produced, this region will undoubtedly be a huge resource for fuel-efficient cars and other items requiring high-powered, long-lasting batteries. Thus, following in the footsteps of its silver, tin and zinc richness, Bolivia once again holds the keys to a natural resource in high demand. One can only hope that history will not repeat itself and Bolivia will actually be able to prosper as a result of its natural reserves, rather than merely exporting it to the main profit of foreign nations. The government is holding back on Lithium mining for the time being, but negotiations with potential partners, mostly Asian – the current political climate clearly disfavors U.S. companies – are ongoing. Hopefully, future Lithium exploitation will preserve the unique environment of the Salar.

But that’s enough for history, geology and economics. Our four day tour started in the canyonlands of Tupiza and then led through an ever changing landscape past lagoons of various colors, geysers, volcanic peaks and desert valleys. Despite the area’s remoteness, high altitude and hostile climate we passed several villages along the way. It is difficult to imagine what life must be like in these barren surroundings. Most homes had stacked stone walls, some brick, no insulation, single pane windows and no heating or just a small wood burning stove while at night time temperatures rapidly dropped way beyond freezing. I thought I had seen hardship in the living circumstances of the communities we visited during our treks around Sucre, but those homes now seemed cozy and comfortable in comparison. Our hostel accommodations were unheated as well and the freezing cold quickly put an end to our nighttime card games. Our second night we spent at 4500 meters and woke up to a snowstorm that had moved in overnight and covered the Laguna Colorada in inches of fresh snow. In blizzard conditions, we hardly got out of the car anymore, choosing to snap pictures from the comfort of our heated vehicle. After the third night which we spent in a salt hostel – with a few obvious exceptions, everything was indeed made of salt, quite impressive – we entered the Salar at dawn, first driving though inches of water left behind from the rainy season, watching the sun rise over the salt flats and continued to the Isla del Pescado where we wandered around amidst giant and ancient cacti forests. It was one of the coldest mornings of my life, I had lost my gloves on the overnight bus to Tupiza, probably the worst timing ever, and had to brave the entire Uyuni tour without gloves. It took a lot of willpower to take my hands out of my pockets every time I wanted to take a picture. Crossing the Salar, we stopped to take more pictures, taking advantage of the optical illusions that are possible due to the flatness of the Salar and the clear air. When we left the Salar behind and reentered civilization, I broke down and bought up all of the ubiquitous knitted alpaca/llama tasseled wool hats, gloves, sweaters, legwarmers etc. that are the trademark of the Bolivian backpacker. The result looks like a llama spit all over me and I am pretty sure I will never wear that stuff again outside of South America but at this point my fashion standards have dropped way below freezing as well.

Four day jeep tour from the Canyonlands of Tupiza to the Salt Flats of Uyuni, crossing 5000 

“Carro, carro! Vamos, vamos!” Sol and I are running along a narrow tunnel, she grabs my arm and we tuck into an alcove. I am definitely slightly freaked out, mostly because Sol, our otherwise stoic guide, seems nervous. “You stay where you are, DON’T MOVE” she yells at Marius and Philipp who are tucked away in another alcove a few meters further into the tunnel. A rumbling noise comes closer and closer and we finally see the car approaching on the narrow wobbled tracks that run the length of the tunnel. Two miners are running and pushing at the back of the car as it rattles past us. Up to 2 tons of ore are being transported in these cars, and at this point of the tunnel, gravity does most of their work. Even if they wanted to, I do not think they could stop the car should one of us tourists get in the way.

“Vamanos.” Sol is ready to continue leading us deeper and deeper into Cerro Rico, the mountain towering above the city of Potosi, where indios and slaves have extracted silver, zinc and other precious materials for hundreds of years, funding the wealth of the Spanish empire and building a city that once upon a time was richer and bigger than any other city in the world. Nowadays, there are but a few reminders of Potosi’s former glory. Cerro Rico has been all but depleted of its precious minerals, nevertheless some 15,000 miners continue to mine the mountain in search of silver, zinc, tin and other metals. The miners work for themselves and sell the ore to collectives. Most of the work is done by hand, including most of the drilling, shoveling the ore into the cars, pushing and pulling the cars along the tunnels and filling baskets that transport the ore out of the mines. Ajutantes, like the guys who are moving the cars, earn approximately 150 Bolivianos or 15 Euros per day, depending upon the quality of the ore they mine. As a result of the impact of the movie “The Devil’s Miner” which featured 14 year old Basilio and his 12 year old brother working in the mines, the working age for children in the mines has been raised to 14. Most of the faces I see still seem incredibly young to me, way too young to be working in such hellish conditions.

At the outset of our tour, we have bought 2 liter bottles of soda, cookies and coca leaves as gifts for the miners. Much more useful than cigarettes and 96% alcohol, the traditional gifts some of the tour operators suggest. The initial descent into the mine was arduous, mostly because the tunnels are so small that we tall Europeans have to crawl and duck for most of the time. We also bought surgical masks as protection against the dust that is prevalent in the mine. But about 20 minutes into our tour, we scramble up a giant pile of rocks, squeeze through a small gap between the rocks and the ceiling, and enter a giant cave. The air is much warmer in here and the dust is so thick that it takes my breath away. I knew all along that I don’t react well to the combination of hot temperatures and bad air quality – I tend to panic in saunas – and indeed, I feel panic setting in. My first and very strong reaction is that I need to get out of here, I can’t do this. I take off my mask and I am able to breathe a little better. Sol explains something about dynamite explosions and all I can think is “if they detonate anything in here and the dust gets any thicker, I am going to suffocate.” Sol gives me some coca to chew and I don’t know if it is the effect of the coca or just having something to take my mind off the feeling of suffocation, but I feel somewhat better. I begin to focus on the three lights in the darkness, indicating men working with sledgehammers, drilling holes for dynamite. Taking slow, purposeful breaths is about all I am able to do and I cannot even imagine doing any kind of work in this atmosphere.

None of the miners we encounter is wearing any kind of equipment to protect them against the silica dust which, if inhaled over long periods of time, can and most likely will lead to silicosis of the lungs. But I now know from personal experience that it is just not possible to work with the kind of protective masks they have available, which are the kind used for spray painting and which bear labels warning that they should not be used in areas with low oxygen levels. Cerro Rico’s elevation is 4300, add the dust inside the mines - in my opinion the only breathing equipment the miners could use would be oxygen tanks.

We hand out some soda, cookies and coca and fortunately head back to the tunnel where the air now seems almost deliciously pure and clean. But it gets hotter and hotter as we head deeper into the mountain. We stop again at an intersection. More cars are going to pass. Two boys are straining against a rope tied to the front of the car while two more push with all their weight and strength from the back. Still they are barely able to move the car up and around the bend. Sol, Marius and Philipp help push the car along. It is empty. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be to push the full cars. Yet, when they stop the boys smile and joke with each other as if this were just another job. And for them, it is. They are proud of their work, proud to be miners.

We continue along the tunnel and encounter the “Tio”, a statute of a devilish creature, adorned with paper garlands, cigarettes in its mouth, coca leaves, empty alcohol bottles and a dark mass which Sol identifies as a llama fetus at its feet. Devout Catholics above ground, once the miners enter the tunnels they worship their Tio and bring sacrifices to ensure their safety underground, culminating in the ritual slaughter of a pregnant llama. Sol explains that this ceremony will take place this coming Saturday. We also thank the Tio for protecting us on our brief excursion into the mines by strewing some coca leaves, lighting a cigarette and sprinkling some alcohol, then Sol offers us a drink as well. During our treks, we would run our cooking stoves on this 96% alcohol, but I’ve been told many times that many people here in Bolivia drink it and I have been curious to try. So I take a sip. It is strong, of course, and surprisingly smooth and tasty at first, but then the burning sensation sets in. However, I can see how after a few sips this would not matter anymore.

I am infinitely glad to be heading back out of the tunnel, the way out seems much longer and narrower, the ceiling lower than I remember. Finally we see daylight ahead of us. Outside, about ten miners are sitting and chewing coca, waiting for their shift to begin. Most of them are probably no older than 20. We chat and take some pictures, I ask them whether they don’t think their job is incredibly hard, but they just smile and shake their heads.

Life in Sucre and its surroundings for a volunteer/tourist is quite comfortable. My one bedroom apartment with its own kitchen and bathroom costs 68 Bolivianos per night. 10 Bolivianos equal approximately one Euro. Private Spanish lessons are USD 6 per hour, a filling lunch at the central market or a local restaurant, usually consisting of meat or chorizo, potatoes, rice and vegetables, costs between 12 and 16 Bolivianos, and a quite decent bottle of Bolivian red wine can be had for the bargain price of 14 Bolivianos – can you say Two Buck Chuck in Spanish? (Availability can be an issue though, our favorite wine merchant keeps running out of it, when I stopped by to stock up for our Monday night volunteer meeting I was told the next delivery would not get in until Friday and we are running dangerously low…)

Of course, life for the average Bolivian is not quite as easy. Our Bolivian guides, for instance, earn about 120-150 Bolivianos per trekking day. Most of them are still enrolled in university and study tourism. They are full of business ideas and initiative, but lacking the funds to embark on most of their projects. Every one of our guides that I have talked to comes from a humble background and started out working as a shoeshine boy. Many of the more senior ones are now leaving for the season to work at summer camps in the U.S. Every one of them seems to dream of leaving Bolivia for a better life or at least for a while to earn some starting capital.

Unfortunately, at this time it seems that every single functioning business in Sucre is run by expats. This is certainly in part due to the fact that many Bolivians lack the funds to open a restaurant, bar, hostel or tour company. However, many hostels for example are owned and operated by Bolivians, including my own. Yet, most Bolivian-run businesses are characterized by a complete lack of understanding as to what tourists want. My hostel is centrally located, the rooms are large, the building is well designed and features a beautiful courtyard and rooftop terrace, in essence the structure is great. However, most of the time, it is only half full. La Dolce Vita, an expat-run hostel in the same price range or even a little more, located a block and a half further from the center has a waiting list. What is the difference? The furniture in my apartment, while functional, is haphazardly thrown together, the entire apartment is devoid of any style. Neither towels nor toilet paper (!) are provided. There is no cleaning service, not even sheets are changed, even for long term residents, unless repeatedly and persistently requested. And great amenities such as the amazing roof top terrace are not even mentioned to guests. Most annoyingly, there is a 12.00 am curfew during the week that is graciously extended to 1.00 am on weekends and late comers have to ring the bell for ages until someone comes to open the iron gates or, as I have done many nights, suck in your stomach and wiggle through the gates. Meanwhile, the Bolivian girls running my hostel are genuinely trying to do a good job and certainly working hard. It is just that they don’t realize that with a few small and inexpensive improvements, their business could be running so much better.

But in my opinion the biggest drawback of Sucre is the pollution, mostly from the micros – small buses obviously acquired used from a variety of countries that had retired them from their public transport fleets. The oldest micros are Dodge from the 60ies, the newest are Japanese models from the 80ies. I am willing to bet my travel budget that not a single of them would pass a smog test. Sometimes the black cloud of exhaust fumes that escapes is so thick it lingers minutes after the micro has left. Today, locals living next to one of the most frequented micro stops staged a road block with signs asking the city to move the location of the stop because they and their children were getting sick from the exhaust fumes and the pollution is so bad that even their windows are caked in dirt. My Spanish school is located across the street from the bus stop and with the road closure, we took advantage of the silence and clean air and decided to spend the lesson on the roof top terrace of my school. We got a glimpse of the haven Sucre could be if there were pedestrian zones and clean fuel burning micros.

If life in the city can be tough, life in the country seems even harder. During our treks, we visit rural communities in and around the crater of Maragua, approximately 20 kilometers from Sucre. The region is mainly populated by the indigenous Jalq’a people, a Quechua speaking tribe traditionally living off the land farming potatoes, wheat and barley in and around the fertile crater. Condortrekkers supports these communities, in particular about 10 schools with money for supplies and the communities of Chaunaca and Irupampa, who have built shelters for trekkers in an effort to embrace sustainable tourism. On our treks we often encounter Jalq’a herding goats and sheep or working in the fields and we also get in very close contact with the locals when we take the truck to return to Sucre. Thanks to our Quechua speaking Bolivian guides and some Spanish, we are able to interact with them. To me, the hardships they endure are almost unfathomable. Many families live far from the villages without electricity or nearby water source, they barely produce enough to feed their families and sell a little surplus at the Sucre market.

The children often have to walk for hours to get to school and girls usually only attend school until the age of 12 or 13 when they are required to help at home full time herding livestock. I knew that this is the case in many parts of Africa, but there are also no sanitary napkins or tampons available in the Bolivian countryside and even if the girls were to attend school, once they start menstruating they would have to stay at home during those days. Two weeks ago we did a volunteer trek to the Socapampa school to bring toothbrushes and toothpaste to the kids and teach them how to use them, as well as to try to reinforce some other hygiene basics, such as wash your hands after going to the bathroom, by acting out skids. Out of ten children attending the school, one has previously owned a toothbrush. No wonder most adult Jalq’a are already missing several teeth by their thirties and most older people are almost toothless.

I have asked our guides how the young people in this remote countryside begin their courtships. With no bars, movie theatres or even school to interact, the only occasion for courtship are local dances which take place periodically. The girls wear shawls, called mantas, and when a boy likes a girl, he will try to “steal” her manta. If the girl likes the boy, she will run after him and try to recuperate her manta, if not, she will have to let it go. I speculate that pretty girls probably need a few extra mantas and some guys might already have quite an impressive manta collection but are still waiting for a girl to finally run after them. Once a young couple has formed, there are three possible turns their courtship may take. In the best case, the girl’s family gives the boy its blessings and the couple gets married. However, if the family is not convinced that the boy is quite right for their daughter, they may demand that he spends a trial year living with his in-laws. During this period, the couple is not allowed to have children, however, my guides have informed me that the girls are wise to the contraceptive powers of some herbal tea, so they are not necessarily chaste during that year. If the trial run works well, the couple is then allowed to marry. Lastly, if the family rejects the boy, he may choose to steal the girl, with her permission, and the couple will usually go to live in the city and return after a few years, with a few children, at which point the girl’s family has no choice but to accept the union.

I have spent more than a month in Sucre and at Condortrekkers. On my last three day camping trip, I feel like I have finally reached the requisite fitness level, carrying my 25 kg backpack full of food and cooking supplies up to 3500 meters and trying to keep up with the Bolivian guides. Bolivian winter nights at altitude can be very cold and the first camping night of that trek was probably the most challenging so far. There was a lot of humidity in our tent, and in the morning the foot ends of our sleeping bags were frozen, as was the cooking water outside. Fortunately, I had thought to take the cooking alcohol inside my sleeping bag so we were able to light the stove and make breakfast for the clients. The last day of the trek was the only part of our treks that I had not done yet. It finished at natural hot springs, and soaking in the hot water after two days of hiking, looking up at the stars above and the moonlit landscape was the perfect end to an amazing time trekking and working with Condortrekkers. My last two days in Sucre were spent saying my good byes and pre-celebrating my birthday with all the volunteers and guides and on Monday night, together with two other German volunteers, I headed off to Potosi. Sucre did not want to let us go easily, a bus strike and blockades hindered our departure, but we finally decided to pile into a taxi with two French guys and made it to Potosi last night. Here I am today, in the highest city in the world at over 4000 meters altitude, getting ready to go on a tour down into the mines to pay a visit to the Tio.

Condortrekkers Impressions

The lifespan of the average Bolivian silver miner is 35-40 years. Basilio is 14, he’s been a miner for four years. Filmed on the mountainsides of Bolivia and deep underground, the Devil’s Miner folllows Basilio and his brother into the treacherous tunnels where they tempt fate daily in the hopes of a better life. (www.pbs.org)

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