We´re Home ......... Not Really

We are now in La Paz and in the same room in the Hotel Torino that we were in last February. I don´t think that it has been occupied since, but it has a window that looks over the roof-tops and the Cathedral roof. We get the hourly chimes really clearly!
I apologize for not being as regular with my blog entries, but it has to do with "regularity" and the fact that Dukerol, the vaccine that we took before coming to prevent intestinal problems obviously isn´t 100% effective, or Bolivian bugs are serious, unstopable organisms. Both Joy and I have been "sick" of and on for the past week, but soldiered on. As a result I will not give our last 2 stops the coverage both deserve.
Potosi:
This was the first town since Asuncion, Paraguay, in which the history is palpable. Over the city is the incredible "Cerro Rico". The mountain was literally bi-sected by east/west veins of silver, which funded the Spanish empire for hundreds of years. There is a saying locally that I liked that says; "Enough silver came out of the Cerro Rico to build a bridge to Spain and still have silver left to carry across it!" Probably an exaggeration, but the mint in Potosi provided all the silver coinage for Spain until it closed in 1953. Now Spain provides all the coins for Bolivia, except the bi-metallic 5Bs piece which is made in Canada. The most recent (about 20 years ago) finding of a Spanish galleon off Florida was loaded with Potosi silver, in bars, coins and various other pieces. The value was 100s of millions of dollars and the folks at the Potosi mint (now a museum) received only 2 coins and feel a little put out about it. Understandable when you realize that 8 million slaves and indigenous people died over the 300 years that the Spanish were taking the silver and that wreck contained some of the results.
On the positive side, we were both able to get out of bed long enough to see the miners annual festival. We did not take the tour of the mines because of asthma and plain "chickenness" (me), but were up the mountain for the morning start to the celebrations. The miners, who still mine on a cooperative basis, in terrible conditions (cramped, dangerous, silica dust, gases, etc), get up the mountain and start the celebration with drink and dynamite. Against the back-drop of the periodic explosions moving closer down the mountainside, they have the most colourful and long parade of dancers and bands representing various mines and coops. We were sitting on a wall with 2 new friends; Mike, a motorcyclist from Holland, and Alister, a chap closer to my age from New Zealand who has been travelling the world for the past 5 years, when we were noticed by a radio guy doing a live broadcast of the event. When I waved to him after I heard him mention that even tourists were watching the parade, he immediately came over to find out our names and where we were from. I managed my best "Soy Jim de Canada". After that it was down-hill! When the parade stopped (as all do) we had a chance to interact with dancers and bands and get a share of the orange and alcohol, which seemed to be the standard drink. We had learned to spill a little on the ground for "Pachamama" or Mother Earth, and this had a side advantage of reducing the amount that you reserved for yourself. What was left had to be "thrown back". It was a great morning despite the water bombs and squirt guns that are part of any celebration around this time of year. Tourists are not normally targetted, but with the amount of water air-borne you are bound to get wet. There is a real economy around selling water bombs, shaving cream, and ponchos. Alister and I were sitting in a cafe having coffee and watching a great battle surging back and forth between to groups of about 50 teens each. One would charge until they ran our of ammunition and then the other would charge. To and fro they went while a police officer held up traffic on a cross road when the groups went by that point.
Sucre: This was the capital of Bolivia (Alto Peru) during the Spanish rule and the early years of independance, until there was a battle with La Paz and the title was wrested away. As a result the only national function left in Sucre is the Supreme Court of Bolivia. Sucre is beautiful and a little lower (2600 metres) than we have been used to recently. There are many colonial period buildings and someone who had lived in Spain said that it was just like old Spain. We went to a great textile museum which is private and run by an anthropological foundation. They are trying to promote weaving amoung local indigenous groups to show them how valuable and worthwhile these skills are. They even have a group of men who have had to learn the skills anew and are developing their own male style and art form. There were 2 women there working away with their rough wooden looms, producing the most beautiful designs and each one is orginal and they cannot reproduce them.
The next day there was a demonstration near the Plaza, which is not an uncommon occurance. In this case, a group of indigenous folk had come into town and sat in one of the important intersections, effectively snarling traffic. The police stood around very peacefully and not too much seemed to happen. We strongly suggest that any visitor to Bolivia who wants to get a grasp of Bolivia´s history go to the Casa de la Libertad, on the main plaza in Sucre. This is a former Jesuit church, then the university, and finally the first seat of government for independant Bolivia. A spectacular building, in which the Bolivian Declaration of Independance was signed in 1825. The English tour guide gave a very balanced view of Bolivian history and also was able to clarify for us many of the questions we had about current Bolivian politics and affairs.
That evening we took our still less than certain digestive systems out for the 12 hour bus ride to La Paz. When we got there we were told that we were up-graded to "Cami" at no extra cost. "Semi-cami" are reclining seats which go back to 45 degrees. "Cami" recline into a bed, which sounded like the answer for an over-night bus ride. It was a big new-looking yellow busand all "cami", but after a short way some short-comings became apparent. First the "bañyo" (bathroom) was locked and not available. The air circulation system was only put on for 4 short blasts during the entire trip so the air got stale and hot. Then at 2:30am they let on another passenger for whom there was no seat so she ended up sitting on a ledge beside me which made using the "cami" awkward as her face was right against mine if I reclined all the way. The bus crew, I suspect, pocketted her fare and I was told that she was only on for a short time. Turned out the short time was the rest of the trip. However, we did get here and both got lots of sleep.
Now I am caught up! Whew!
Tomorrow we hope to make contact with Ivor Mendez and get to see the Bolivian Academy of Arts. We are a little psych for that.
Jim