Retrospective: 21/06/10 - 28/06/10
Journey: Uyuni - Potosí
After 200 km of pure happiness on the paths and roads Andean we just happen to Potosí, a city famous for three reasons.
First, it is the former flagship of mining the vast English empire in the days when giant dominated the world and South America among others, when dixit Arthuro Perez
First, it is the former flagship of mining the vast English empire in the days when giant dominated the world and South America among others, when dixit Arthuro Perez "when the sun was setting in one of its borders, he rose to another ...".
is transited through this town that shipments of money that lie behind the huge mountains (especially the Cerro Rico) of the region before reaching the coast, to be loaded in the galleons that were the dream of pirates and privateers other to finally go to enrich the already rich bankers and Don the court of Charles Quint.
It says here that with all the money that was extracted Mont Rico (20 000 tons anyway), it could be a gigantic bridge between Potosi and Madrid. To extract money from the mountain, the English used the local workforce, namely the Indian communities of the Altiplano exclavage reduced. An estimated 8 million lives have been destroyed in three centuries of exploitation. The miners were working in conditions imaginable, and died in the "mouth of hell." The mercury used to extract money, poisoned much as poison gas.
Today, it operates more as a Potosi tin that has been snubbed by the English at the time. There is no more an ounce of silver in the belly of Cerro Rico.
Thus, Europe's wealth has come at the expense of the South American population. (E. Galeano, "The Open Veins of Latin America", 1970, excellent book on ancient and contemporary history of South America).
In addition to the money that was found abundantly in the basement Potosino , it is noted that the city (more than 5000 inhabitants) is the world's highest: 4000 m above sea level. And it allows me to hang on my third reason which is famous in the city. Go
Potosí bike is like the big dipper to the force of arms but with the legs. Cons in part, the landscape changes each time we move into the next valley (after an inevitable ascent), the descents of several kilometers are
is transited through this town that shipments of money that lie behind the huge mountains (especially the Cerro Rico) of the region before reaching the coast, to be loaded in the galleons that were the dream of pirates and privateers other to finally go to enrich the already rich bankers and Don the court of Charles Quint.
It says here that with all the money that was extracted Mont Rico (20 000 tons anyway), it could be a gigantic bridge between Potosi and Madrid. To extract money from the mountain, the English used the local workforce, namely the Indian communities of the Altiplano exclavage reduced. An estimated 8 million lives have been destroyed in three centuries of exploitation. The miners were working in conditions imaginable, and died in the "mouth of hell." The mercury used to extract money, poisoned much as poison gas.
Today, it operates more as a Potosi tin that has been snubbed by the English at the time. There is no more an ounce of silver in the belly of Cerro Rico.
Thus, Europe's wealth has come at the expense of the South American population. (E. Galeano, "The Open Veins of Latin America", 1970, excellent book on ancient and contemporary history of South America).
In addition to the money that was found abundantly in the basement Potosino , it is noted that the city (more than 5000 inhabitants) is the world's highest: 4000 m above sea level. And it allows me to hang on my third reason which is famous in the city. Go
Potosí bike is like the big dipper to the force of arms but with the legs. Cons in part, the landscape changes each time we move into the next valley (after an inevitable ascent), the descents of several kilometers are
"thoroughly knobs", bivouacs are always memorable, the condors soar over our heads, Bolivia are always so hospitable like Don Eliseo who opened the doors of his house in the village of Ticatica .
That night was the San Juan (Saint John, June 23), and like everywhere I feel, for St. John we made a fire. Custom dictates that we
Bolivia does not fire but fire. And not only on the village square and in front of each home but also in the mountains! We started the climb cerro (mountain) in the night, the moon taking care of us light the path.
After a while we sat in the semi-dark oblique and all around us in the surrounding mountains, myriads of torches lit up briefly the slopes, s' off before others do light a short distance. Small bright spots
mingled with the stars of the sky, forming constellations innovative and ephemeral.
Some fires were transformed into real fires, spreading from bush to bush until the fire goes out for lack of fuel ... magic!
The next day we did the show in this big college town for teenagers and school children who gathered to see us clowning by innovating new clown acts repeated before Uyuni leave.
At the end of the show we have watered our revenge buckets of water we had taken on the head and wake up throughout the morning, as is tradition here the day after the San Juan ...
After the fire and water, it remained for us to face the last two elements.
We hit the road with the air so fresh, low fuel normally used to breathe, but néanmois invigorating, hair, lungs and whistling in the ears.
remains the land, this land Andean on which the cyclist effort makes sense, this land full of character that ranges from steep climbs and tumbling Devers, where the few plains and flat areas are the delight of other llamas and vicuña, these countries lost that tickle the clouds, the land Finally, marking our bodies breathless and scratched, and gradually takes hold of our hearts ...
Cheers cycling o)
Janochka
That night was the San Juan (Saint John, June 23), and like everywhere I feel, for St. John we made a fire. Custom dictates that we
Bolivia does not fire but fire. And not only on the village square and in front of each home but also in the mountains! We started the climb cerro (mountain) in the night, the moon taking care of us light the path. After a while we sat in the semi-dark oblique and all around us in the surrounding mountains, myriads of torches lit up briefly the slopes, s' off before others do light a short distance. Small bright spots
mingled with the stars of the sky, forming constellations innovative and ephemeral.
Some fires were transformed into real fires, spreading from bush to bush until the fire goes out for lack of fuel ... magic!
The next day we did the show in this big college town for teenagers and school children who gathered to see us clowning by innovating new clown acts repeated before Uyuni leave.
At the end of the show we have watered our revenge buckets of water we had taken on the head and wake up throughout the morning, as is tradition here the day after the San Juan ...
After the fire and water, it remained for us to face the last two elements.
We hit the road with the air so fresh, low fuel normally used to breathe, but néanmois invigorating, hair, lungs and whistling in the ears.
remains the land, this land Andean on which the cyclist effort makes sense, this land full of character that ranges from steep climbs and tumbling Devers, where the few plains and flat areas are the delight of other llamas and vicuña, these countries lost that tickle the clouds, the land Finally, marking our bodies breathless and scratched, and gradually takes hold of our hearts ...
Cheers cycling o)
Janochka
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