Ex-World Champion rock thrower uses me as Target

November 4, 2010: I am usually quite respectfully and ask people if it is okay if I can take their photo. Today…I didn’t ask but didn’t see me needing to ask as these bulky women road workers of steel were busy lifting these giant gut busting boulders…who might I add did not need a back brace due to the natural “tummy tire” back brace. Really, I would never have asked at home if I could take a photo of a road worker, why should I here…I thought?

As soon one of the stocky women noticed that she was my subject, a rock was thrown at me showing me her lack of interest in having a photo taken. Thankfully her days as a world champion rock thrower are over because she missed me. Walking up to her right after one more photo to show her she missed, I for some reason wanted to see if she was going to do it again. She didn’t, it was a bluff…so I…apologized for taking her photo. Reaching out with her man hands, she clung onto my camera strap, briefly becoming nice asking to see her photo. Doing as grandma asked, she then forcefully demanded money. Two other of her friends now surrounded me and also demanded money for their photo that I took. I would perhaps have given these grannies some money if they would have posed for me in say…a 2 piece thronged bikini or perhaps some sexy lingerie, but in their traditional wear including the ever so famous outdoor apron? Mmmmmm…no.

This all took place next to the center of the plaza filled with people that I was more than likely entertaining…so my safety was not a concern. My concern was how I was going to release her grip off my camera strap. Asking nicely for her to let go several times but she would not listen - only having to hear her repeating her demand for money. Little did she know that I am a single traveler without a girlfriend so my right handed grip was far stronger than hers…unless…she managed to do some prostitution on the side.

Grabbing her hand that was locked onto my camera strap, I continued to nicely ask for her to let go and repeatedly told her I was not going to give her any money. My grip became harder and harder and harder and harder, beginning to sound like a parrot with my perhaps too friendly of requests…until she finally let go…going into a rage. Throwing off her gloves she quickly searched for a nearby rock for close combat. Not wanting to see if this next incoming rock was going to make contact, I did a brisk jog out of her range.

Today I learned my lesson…next time someone throws a rock at me…don’t say anything and just throw a bigger one back – or better yet, do what the Israelis would do…throw 20 bigger ones back leaving the well educated to take care of the carnage.

If you are black...stay away or DIE!

November 3rd, 2010: If you are black - in political correct terminology: African Bolivian, African American, African Canadian, African Jamaican, African African and anybody else who’s skin is naturally black…you cannot live in Potosi, or you will die. My tour guide even said when people with black skin would die…within 6 months after arriving here because black people are not made for the altitude - remember that Potosi claims to be the highest city in the world at 4090 meters (13,420 feet).

I thought it was ridiculous when I first heard it, having to ask my guide again to make sure that I didn’t misunderstand what she said. So, the past 2 days I was trying prove her wrong, going on a hunt searching for someone with even a smidgen of African decent to ask them how long they have been in Potosi. On my search, I did not find even one person that was even close to being black – not even the miners after being in the mines all day were black. I only seemed to find people with dark natural tans and a bunch of white gringo crackers. So…where are the black people?

Even though I have no proof, I will still place this myth in my bucket of other myths I come across during my travels…such as, if you eat too much chicken you will turn gay. Lets not forget the one: if you eat piranha you will can have sex all night. To have these myths properly busted, perhaps I should write the TV program Myth Busters for their assistance and their credibility…or…perhaps not.

Inside a 3rd world cooperative mine

Potosi is an amazingly…different place. Potosi is a city that use to claim being one of the richest cities in the world – which is obviously not the case anymore after Spain’s mass raping of the silver that was discovered here back in the year 1544. Potosi now only claim to be the highest city in the world…but with all claims there will always be some sort of conflict because according to Wikipedia, it is the 3 highest city coming in at 4090 meters (13,420 feet) – who cares…it is still very very very high. In a city that you can buy dynamite at any age on the street without a permission slip…perhaps it is better to let them think what they want to think
Going into the stores of this mining town and seeing all of the nicely selection of wrapped sticks of dynamite that anyone can buy. I was thinking it would be nice to travel with a few dynamite sticks in my backpack or even a couple taped around my chest in orderly fashion to possibly make any potential kidnapper or robber think twice if they really want to try to get anything involuntary form me. To make Potosi even better, besides the easy purchase of dynamite…you can get, 98 percent alcohol at most of the miners shops that is somehow meant for drinking. Trying some because….everyone else was, I could feel the alcohols entire path as soon as it entered my month, starting with my tongue all the way down my throat as it trickled into my stomach…I am no doctor but it must not be good for you.

Seeing some of the miners today working in these cooperative mines and even having the opportunity to provide some free labor for a minute or so, made me think…I don’t want to grow up to be a miner – ever. Thankfully I don’t have a working visa in Bolivia so this is not even an option…even though I would be the best miner in the whole wide world. The miners I visited today did it “ole school” with all hand tools in the scorching dusty tunnels that were so small we had to perform the “wiggly worm” to get through some spots.

After leaving the mines today I appreciate my future job even more…whatever it might be. It is unbelievable that kids as young as 10 years old are working the mines. No matter how you look at it, a dead end job when you are only expected to live till 35 to 40 years old. What people do for money will always amaze me.