Luca Lu

We didn't realise our first day in Potosí coincided with the festival of Corpus Christi, which turned out to be a big deal in town!
Crowds of people gathered in the main square creating art on the streets. They used flowers and fruit and vegetables to depict angels and other religious figures.
Processions rolled through the square, coming from all the different churches in Potosí, with drums and trumpets they delivered statues of saints to the cathedral.
The statues would be on display in the cathedral before being returned to each church on the respective saint's day, with more processions and celebrations throughout town.
Although it was interesting to see, Corpus Christi also meant that most of the city was shut down.
We did visit the Convent of Santa Teresa, which we knew nothing about, other than that it was open! The tour wasn't very good, it was very rushed, and the guide seemed annoyed any time anyone asked something. However, the convent itself was very interesting and extremely rich, both in artefacts and history.
Initially founded in the 1600s by two wealthy Spanish families, the convent had 21 nuns, typically the second born daughters of aristocrats. At the age of 15, the daughters were 'married' to god, and spent the rest of their life in complete isolation from the world.
Families could visit, but were not allowed to see, or touch them ever again (they even had spikes on the windows to ensure everyone kept their distance!).
They would attend mass while sat behind a wodden lattice and would receive the eucharist via a little window to minimise interaction with the priest. They would be silent all day long, except for two hours when they were allowed to speak to one another.
The convent was extremely rich, with many precious items donated by the families to the convent. Nowadays they're on display, but they wouldn't have been back then, as the nuns lived an austere life.
The only activities they did were to sow fine clothes for the priests, or bake and make medicines for the community, who bought them via a turntable, to prevent any interaction.
We found it interesting, but also extremely sad. There were even flails and other instruments of torture, used for self flagellation as a sign of devotion.
The convent still operates, and 7 nuns live in the new building next door. They're allowed to sit with everyone at mass, but they still abide their vote of silence! Thankfully they can leave if they decide that the life isn't for them!
As the Convent tour didn't depress us enough, we decided to see the mines too. We debated it for a while, and Nick had initially opted out. We wanted to know more about Cerro Rico and the mines, but as they're still active and potentially unsafe, it was perhaps not the best idea. Thankfully we survived, but I'm not sure if I'd do it again (Nick fully regretted it!).
We went with a company that hires old miners and that gives part of the money to the mining community. However, the conditions are awful and the tour took us crawling into the depths of Cerro Rico for over 2 hours.
We entered through the Candelaria tunnel, one of over 150 entrances, and then climbed down over 60 meters to exit from the Rosario entrance. The are railway tracks, and we had to jump out of the way several times to avoid getting hit but the carts, which weigh over 1.5 tonnes and are manually pushed by men and sometimes boys.
We wore masks and buffs, but still felt the dust in every breath we took. The mines are very hot and, at times, I had to remove my mask to breathe in and the air was awful.
The miners' life expectancy is just 40-50 years, as they get silicosis, a disease caused by the poor air quality, where heavy particles deposit in their lungs, eventually destroying them.
The youngest miners we saw looked about 15, I even helped them pushing a cart for about 30 seconds, running out of breath almost instantly.
The silver from Cerro Rico was mined from pre-Incan times, as silver was associated with the moon, a god, and used for clothes and ornaments.
Mining really ramped up under the Spanish, when over 8 million slaves died in Cerro Rico, extracting over 80% of the global supply of silver.
Once Bolivia became independent, the mines continued to operate under private ownership, and equally poor conditions. The government nationalised the mine in the 20th century, promising better conditions to the miners, free accommodation and other benefits. The improved conditions lasted until the silver started to run out, and the price of tin and copper started to decline.
Nowadays, miners pool together under a cooperative, and pay the government a percentage in order to work. As each miner ultimately works for him or herself, there is no central investment to improve the mine, and so the conditions are terrible.
For the 15,000 miners (1,000 of which are women), the only form of health and safety currently employed is prayers and sacrifices to God and the devil. An altar with offerings and llama blood smeared on the wall ominously marked the entrance to the mine, the last place where God can be found according to local belief. Inside the mine, statues of the devil covered in coca leaves and other offerings are worshipped for protection. We even stopped with our guide, who offered a cigarette and some strong alcohol (96%, often drunk by the miners!) at one of the altars.
To top it all off, the group of (demented) young Dutch guys we were with insisted on buying and exploding some dynamite inside the mine. Nick and I imagined the headline - "Group of tourists visits unsafe mine, detonates dynamite and die" - natural selection culling the idiots.
I found it totally fascinating but we agreed, never again!Læs mere