I got the black lung pop

The overnight bus from La Paz to Potosi was meant to arrive at 7am. Unfortunately, just when I got comfortable, we were rudely woken up at 4am and dumped on the side of the road on a dodgy street. The taxi ride was about as scary as our first taxi from Lima airport. We decided to trust the driver but made whispered plans to grab our day packs and get out of there in the event of any bad shite going down. We were cruising dark alleys with sinister-looking characters walking around. Luckily our hotel manager was used to random bus arrivals and when we signed in we noticed a bunch of other names signing in anywhere from midnight to 6am. Interestingly, the place was called Koala Den but when we mentioned we were from Australia they smiled brightly at us and said "Kangaroo". Emphasis on the Gar bit. No recognition of the Koala-Australia connection. Strange. The in room heater and hot water in our private bathroom made this place one of our favourites and it was cheap!!

Anyways, this was to be the city that surprised us with its awesomeness and we didn't want to leave. A 2 day stopover turned into a 4 day sojourn when we were handed a flyer for a local Bolivian Bon Jovi cover band. We added another day to our stay and booked in for the Silver mines tour the following morning. I had heard about the tour a few times and everyone had recommended the tour run by this particular hostel. I was reassured that the dark, crawling part was limited to a couple minutes and so I was on board. Amit was keen regardless. He's the daredevil!

Breakfast was awesome! Freshly brewed coffee, scrambled eggs, toast and fruit. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. When the tour dudes called our names, I felt sick. I've never thought of myself as claustrophobic but there I was freaking out! We had to put on some over-sized jumpsuits and ridiculous torch helmets and then hit the markets to pick up the "goods" for the miners. We bought them 2L bottles of soft drink, bags of coca leaves and dynamite. Plus got a whiff of the 90% proof alcohol that they sometimes drink. Hectic.

Our bus dropped us out the front of the mine. The entrance was as tall as me and from there we had to crouch-walk into a little cave area where we paid our respects to the devil. Apparently the local miners do this because they are superstitious about going underground which would be considered the territory of the devil. This cave area was called the "museum". We then crouch-walked for another 10 minutes with strict instructions not to touch the electricity cables running overhead. I had my newly purchased wet hankie tied over my face to filter out the dust and smell of dynamite. I discovered later that putting a wet cloth over your face is a form of torture somewhere. At this point I was already hyperventilating. Lame. When we arrived at a hole in the wall I was appalled to realize that we were about to crawl through it into darkness for the next 5 minutes. I got my waist into the hole before I panicked and got back out! I sat and talked with another guide in broken Spanish for about 10 mins while waiting for the assigned guide to walk me back out of the mine. Amit went down with the rest of the group, crawling into the second level where you could stand and then crawling down to a third level where there was a solitary 17-year old minor working a 14 hour shift on a Saturday in the dark. Crazy no? Amit told me later that they sat on the third level in the bowels of the mountain with all their torches off for a minute; the absolute absence of light was freaky. BTW, I know it doesn't look that dark in our photos but unfortunately the camera flash kinda killed the creepy mood of the place. Can I just say that every time I closed my eyes for the next three days I thought I was back there. No I'm not just being dramatic. I'm not even enjoying writing this. The things I do for our readers.

So back to me. My friendly guide has been replaced by new younger but much less sociable guide. He gestures for me to follow him out and I'm so glad to be moving. Sitting hunched over in a tiny tunnel in the dark was seriously starting to freak me out. I follow the new dude for about 10 minutes back to the devil/cave/museum place. He grunts for me to wait outside. He goes inside and leaves me alone for about a minute. Panic rising. He comes back with a rifle. Yes. A rifle. He hands it to me and in a split second I suspect that I'm going to carry the gun to the spot where he will shoot me and dump my body. Panic reaching crescendo. He then laughs and takes it back. I follow him out and can't remember whether we're walking the way we came, towards the clean, fresh outside air. I slip and grab onto a electricity cable for balance. Miraculously I am not electrocuted. I see a tiny sliver of light in the distance and want to weep for joy. When I get outside I am tempted to kiss the ground, reminiscent of previous celebrations following the conclusion of Duke of Ed hikes in high school. I wait anxiously for Amit to come back out and watch the bus driver and creepy guide play with what turned out to be a broken old rifle. Still. When the rest of the tour group resurface they are coughing and spluttering and covered in soot. Following recovery, we got to throw around a stick of lit dynamite and then watch while it was raced over a hill by a guide. The explosion was tres cool. The moral of the story kids: don't take rifles from strangers in dark Bolivian mines.

The next day we made friends with some nice people in our hostel and hit up the nicest restaurant in town before heading over to Bon Jovi cover band venue. We were thrilled to learn that the opening act was actually an Aerosmith cover band. Don't wanna miss a thing and Jaded were highlights. When the Bon Jovi act came on it was 3am and we had to leave during Bed of Roses which we proceeded to belt out whilst walking the streets of Potosi. Quick trip to late night fries stall and our night was a success. Late finish resulted in late start the next day and just one more night in this surprisingly cool town. We walked to the bus station to book our tickets to Uyuni, requiring a Resident Evil-esque dodging of rabid dogs. Thus ends the tale of the Potosi silver mines.

Next up - the salt flats and beautiful landscapes of southern Bolivia

Fast Times at Wild Rover

La Paz manages to nudge out Cusco as best city so far. The shenanigans that went down here bring a smile to my face every time I reminisce.

The bus ride to La Paz was one of our strangest journeys yet. We ended up in the back seat: the worst place to be on a Bolivian bus. The roads are notoriously bumpy and I was airborne on more than one occasion. In the seat to my immediate right was an Abbie Cornish look-a-like (think Life Support era). I was initially happy to see another Australian but after four monologues and 2 hours later I was pretending to be asleep. Along the way the bus pulls up to a port, we jump onto a speed boat while the bus sails precariously to the other side of the lake on a barge. I watch with my heart in my mouth as I imagine all our worldly possessions ending up in afore-mentioned lake.

Back on the bus and we are careening around cliff-side corners on the way into La Paz. It's the world's highest capital city at 3600m above sea level but its still in a valley so the views are spectacular. The traffic in the city is crazy and we get dropped somewhat randomly on the side of the road. Despite warnings to the contrary, we arrive at our hostel Wild Rover safely and fall upon the Irish pub menu with grateful thanks. I can easily say that this was one of the best hostels we stayed at. The clean, hot showers and doonas were just amazing.

On our first attempts at sight-seeing we realised that while the hostel had great facilities it was inconveniently located up on the side of the steep valley surrounding the city. To walk downtown one must literally walk down to the town and then back up the other side. To go back to the hostel make a U-turn and repeat. I know I keep mentioning the altitude but seriously, it's hard work. Especially after you've attempted to eat the world's hottest curry. In what universe is it a good idea to put 30 chillies in a curry the size of a side salad? Needless to say, we failed the challenge. We took a stroll through the witches markets to observe the llama fetuses - when in Rome...?

We booked in a bunch of cool activities including a hike to Chacaltaya (5000m above sea level) and the world's most dangerous road for Amit. We spent every night in the hostel bar until closing time at which point cabs would arrive to take us to a new club/bar. We had quite the posse when we hit up the Hard Rock Cafe one night resulting in a large group of us kids dancing on the bar at 4am while the bartender set it on fire. Amit capped off a spectacular night with a round of Aftershock shots.

After a halfhearted attempt to get into San Pedro prison, an amazing local football match in the rain and a trip to the watch the Cholita's wrestling we were pretty much done. A city we were supposed to see in three days, chewed us up and spat us out after a week. We stumbled onto an overnight bus to Potosi (silver mining town), exhausted, oxygen deprived but happy.

Copa, Copacabana (Bolivia)

Arriving in Copacabana without accommodation booked was kinda scary. This was our first Bolivian town so I had all sorts of scary images of how dangerous it would be. In reality it was no different than Peru except the whole town felt kinda beachy. It was stinking hot as usual and we carried our packs down the street with the hotel spruikers running after us. We were actually doing that lame backpacker thing where we consult the Rough Guide, looking for the recommended hostel/hotel in the area. Anyways, we were with our friend Marlene who also stayed with our host family on Amantani Island, so slightly less scary. Between the 3 of us, we get talked into checking out some dude's hotel and it turns out to be a pretty good deal. Something like 15 bucks a night for both of us. Plus hot water!! They have these strange water heaters in Bolivia which are attached to the shower head so that if you touch anything you get a minor shock. It makes showering an exciting challenge.

We walked to the port/beach where there are countless huts selling trout prepared in all kinds of ways, menus were decoded with the help of my trusty Spanish dickie. Sitting down to eat with the dogs (they stalk you until you've finished eating) we appreciate the view before sucking it up and starting the trek up to the lookout point which is where they have the stations of the cross every Easter. By this point, we're getting pretty good at hiking at altitude which is a relief considering La Paz is next and we planned to drink there as well. booya.

View from the top of the lookout is amazing and we watch the beginning of the sunset and then jog back down. Not because we're fit but because its hard to walk slowly down a steep hill. My knees hated me enough at this point. We have a pretty nice dinner on the main drag with Marlene and her friend who we happen to run into (??!!) and then hunker down for the night. Turns out the dogs rule the town by night an all you can hear is vicious dog fights and barking. What are they doing down there? Keep it down! *shakes fist*

Next morning we are on the ferry to Isla Del Sol with grand notions of walking the whole island in 3 hours. Yet again, I forget how freaking hot it would be and of course those Incan dudes thought it would be a great idea to put the path across the island in the very centre running over the highest points of each massive hill. Just to be closer to the sun. So we bikram hiked over the island. Got to see some cool things including an Incan labyrinth and Amit got to have a little tea party on a sacred Incan site. There were only a few people hiking the whole island, so it was totally like the Fellowship of the Ring.

The following day we were on our way to La Paz with a strange dreadlocked lady musician.