Potosi is famous for pretty much one thing and one thing only. The Mines. They’ve been here for hundreds of years and at one time made Bolivia the richest nation in South America (or actually Spain who were exploiting the millions of people who worked and died digging underground). The silver deposits have significantly dwindled since those times, but miners still work as part of a co-operative. What they find they are at liberty to sell on to make a tiny profit, and they still work in horrible conditions. All of this you can experience with tours of the mines, including dynamite demonstrations (you buy it from a market yourself) and crawling through sub human conditions. It looks an eye opening and fascinating day out, which we don’t do because Paddy is hungover and I’m claustrophobic. We also flipped a coin for it. It landed for the mine, to which Paddy replied “fuck that” and we spend the day faffing in the hostel.
A failed attempted to get another debaucherous karaoke session going results in me dancing like a lunatic with the locals having no idea what the hell I’m doing. We beat a hasty retreat and wander the streets looking for gringas. I’m disappointed to be returning to the hostel at the very early time of 1am, and even more gutted to discover the internet has been turned off so I can’t even stalk anyone or watch porn. I fall asleep in a huff.