I'm sitting in the hostal bar in La Paz, with a Pina Colada and a freshly prepared bowl of wok fried veg and chicken to eat, ready to continue my writings.

So the visit to the mines in Potosi, once the richest town of South America when the Spanish discovered the silver and other minerals in the rocks there. After independence of Bolivia in 1825 the government ran the mines, installing equipment still in use today.  But as the seams grew less profitable they turned the mines over to cooperatives of the miners themselves.  Today therefore the miners have to buy their own tools from the miners' shop, and every man works for one of the many co-ops, paid by the amount of ore they extract each day.  We visited the shop and learned the history and the current, pretty horrendous conditions the miners work under, particularly related to poor heath and diseases such as silicosis, shortening their lives.  We were able to buy supplies as gifts to the miners - dynamite and fuses, coca leaves and other goods which give a little relief and enable tourist visits to be accepted by most miners.

Then we visited the area where the crushed rock is brought in order to pulverise it further and extract the silver or other mineral.  The mechanisms, mainly wooden were fascinating, with series of cogs, riddles and filters enhanced with toxic chemicals such as mercury ( also greatly reducing life expectancy) and settling tanks.  Finally our minibus took us to the top of the mountain (nearly 4000m altitude) to the main mine entrance . There we could see the tunnel with a railway track and trucks hand pushed full of broken rocks being brought out by teams usually of 3 men.  Often the truck derailed as the lines were old and in places broken, then a huge effort was require to put them back.   We entered the tunnels, fully equipped with jackets, trousers, miners hats and lamps, with instructions to move off the tracks to make way for any trucks.

And the speed they move on the slight downhills was impressive, you wouldn't want to be in the path. Returning empty trucks also had to give way and were tipped sideways off the tracks, not without some effort to put back after, hard work when done at the rate of 10 truck loads per shift.

We then were able to climb up a steep shaft to where one team of father and son, 17yr were drilling holes for dynamiting - very narrow confined space for working.  We saw the explosives and fuses in place then retired to safe distance to experience the explosion reverberating through the rock- quite intimidating!  We spoke to the miner and found his son had great respect for the work his father did but it had shown him the value of studying and he intended to leave to continue his studies. Overall we were 2 h underground, doing little but walk which took enough effort, yet they have to exert themselves hard for long shifts, even if the pay is more than they can get elsewhere.  Think of this when you next put on some silver jewellery!

I then caught the afternoon bus on to the political capital
Sucre, a 3 h journey through some fascinating geology,  with rocks of many forms and colours in the steep hills between.  Sucre is lower down, and not so steep though still fairly hilly, so I shared a taxi with Danny an Isobel up from the bus station, who were again on the same bus, though I opted for a different hostel.  For £9 a night I had a complete suite of rooms with kitchen so finally I could make myself tea and coffee ad lib!  And cook myself some vegetables for supper too!

Sucre ( not sugar in Spanish, that is azucar!) is now protected as a world heritage site due to its beautiful architecture, mainly in white, so current building is in keeping with the older buildings - a definite benefit, and a picturesque city.  I spent one day exploring the city and visiting some churches and museums of ethnic culture and took a tour to the Sunday market at Tarabuca, a small town about 1.5 h by bus where the people still live by the old traditions, with some tourism thrown in.  Their costumes were so varied, with many different hats, skirts and shawls and also a variety of different musical instruments, which form an important part of their traditions.  The markets were interesting to browse, with wandering donkeys in the side streets, children playing around the stalls or helping sell the wares, and a typically Bolivian almuerzo (lunch) of quinoa soup, then saice - meat and potato in a spicy sauce.  Given this is the home of the potato - there are over 3000 varieties for every occasion - they are good!

I left that evening on the overnight bus for Cochabamba, again a sleeper bus. Cochabamba grew with Potosi's increase in size by pricing the food it needed as Cochabamba has fertile fields at much lower altitude 2553m, and bcae the country's bread basket.  Now it is declining as Potosi produces less too.

 But 9km from arrival in the morning we stopped.  Apparently following the death of a taxi driver the police had failed to act and the taxi drivers were on strike, blocking the roads into and throughout the city.  So talking to the other passengers, we decided we should start walking, so I teamed up with a French couple and a Dutch girl and after about 1km we managed to get a mini bus to the edge of town.  In the end I found the trek I hoped to do wasn't available and the chaos of the blockages made much visiting impossible so I made my way to the bus station by taxi and took the next bus back to La Paz.

Having carried my large and small backpacks around for much of the day my shoulders were glad to arrive at my hostel and take a hot shower.  That's when the Strawberry Daiquiri and the chicken and vegetable wok first caught my eye on the bar menu so I indulged myself, as wine by the bottle is not too convenient when travelling and the beer comes in huge bottles I can't drink on my own.  A good night's sleep followed...