The second day I was in La Paz, booked a tour with one of the many agencies that cater to backpacker-style tourists, to visit two places: Chacaltaya, a former glacier, featured in a Radio Ambulante Episode, and the Valle de la Luna. In Bolivia it is much easier to visit most rural areas on tours than to try and go by public transit – in no small part because of the absence of paved roads.
As you can see on this entrance ticket, Chacaltaya used to be the center of Bolivian skiing, and was once the highest altitude ski lodge (and hostel) in the world. Due to climate change, it is now a place that tourist occasionally visit.
The day I was there, it started snowing as i was about halfway up the mountain so I stopped walking and warmed up in the lodge. I chatted in Portuguese to some Brazilians on my tour. They all complimented me on my Portuguese, and claimed that it is one of the most difficult languages to learn. I think this is a feature of few people speaking Portuguese as a second language (on tours in Bolivia) rather than a statement of linguistic difficulty.
The intrepid driver, don Guillermo, made it down the mountain in a snowstorm, and took us to the Valle de la Luna. What a difference in the space of approximately 2 hours, and less than 20 km as the crow flies.
As this took about 2 hours, I asked the guide some questions about the region, and what we were seeing on the ride. I learned about sacrifices that take place in that region, typically using llama fetuses, in the hopes of successful mining operations. Trust a professor to turn what was supposed to be a fun, non-work day into a research opportunity.
I left Oruro the day after Easter and took a bus to La Paz. As per usual the bus ride was beautiful. Also as per usual in Bolivia, by the time the bus got to the final terminal most of the people had gotten off of it – although in this case, at least the bus terminal was close to where I was staying. I stored my luggage, had lunch, and watched what I believe were demonstrations in favour of two different candidates for rector of the Universidad Mayor San Andrés.
Over the course of the next few days I had a number of experiences where I really felt the altitude – both because La Paz is at high altitude, and because I wanted to see some lookouts, so had to go up and down stairs or hills to get there.
Me and a lookout. Not pictured: me, taking a lot of breaks on the approx 10000 flights of stairs between the bus and the lookout.
In La Paz, there are many, many electrical wires, in clusters that would give those hanging in Mexico City a run for their money.
Colorful umbrellas hung up across the street in the “Mercado de Brujas.”
I succeeded in visiting the MUSEF – which featured an exhibit of photography of Oruro. It also has an archive and library. The day that I went there was a researcher reading books, a computer that I could search (where I saw that the library would be useful to my project), but no staff to ask how I might in fact access this library. Alas. I must return to Bolivia to figure out how.
I became even more convinced I needed to return to La Paz when I was on my way to the airport (the highest altitude airport in the world) – I took an Uber (which you can pay for with cash in Bolivia – and in fact is the way to make sure you can get one – and get a receipt). I chatted with my driver and he showed me some places where I could see religious rituals near mines, in action. He seemed so interested in helping me with my project that he pulled over to the side of the road so that I could take a picture of what I understood to be a sacred site. He also discussed his opinions about drug trafficking and Bolivia’s former president at length, and it became clear he may veer into conspiracy theory territory, so his comments are worth investigating further.
Taking a picture from the side of the highway
The Uber driver also showed me where airport staff eat breakfast – at a stand outside – and told me that since I had plenty of time before my flight I should check my bags and then eat there rather than anywhere inside the airport. It was delicious and cheap (my favourite combination)!
Fellow travelers may have characterized Oruro as “sleepy” but they did not do it justice. They obviously were interested in the wrong kinds of tourism. The city has the largest statue of the Virgin Mary in the world – and it is 22 feet taller than the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio. It is also much less crowded, and there wasn’t fog the day I tried to visit. Who wouldn’t be excited by this.
The first day I was in Oruro I checked out of my hotel named after the Virgen del Socavón – and while I could see the entire plaza dedicated to her, a statue of her up several flights of stairs, the church and museum named after her, as well as the cable cars that would take me to her statue, the cable cars were only in operation a few days a week so I waited to visit all of these sites until a day when the cable cars were working.
Plaza – large cross and mural of the Virgen del Socavón visible in about the middle of the photo, cable car, cable car station, and bleachers over a parking lot where I assume one can see Carnaval processions
To the best of my knowledge, la Virgen del Socavón is a particular apparition of la Virgen de la Candelaria (Candlemas) revered by miners in the Oruro region. She has something to do with vanquishing the devil in conjunction with St Michael the Archangel, or at least that is what I gleaned from reading about the Diablada (part of the Carnaval celebrations) and this mural in the cable car station.
Images of St Michael and la Virgen del Socavón inside the cable car station, Oruro
Rituals that surround devotion to the Virgen del Socavón are examples of religious inculturation – according to one of the books I read there are elements of Uru (pre-Inca) and Inca religious figures in the stories that surround the Virgen del Socavón. The Virgen del Socavón is credited with saving the Uru people from four plagues – interestingly, all included in Exodus, and also all were supposed to take place before colonization (and therefore before Catholicism arrived in the Americas).
On a day I knew the cable cars were going to be in operation, I decided to visit all the sites dedicated to the Virgen del Socavón: the church, the museum, and the statue at the top of the hill. I started by trying to find the museum. I couldn’t see any doors open in the church but google is often wrong, so I continued walking around the area. I ended up walking up several flights of stairs to a smaller (but still impressive) statue to la Virgen del Socavón.
Painting of the Virgen del Socavón, about halfway up the stairs
I came back down the stairs, which is much easier than climbing up them when one is at altitude, and gave up on the museum. I decided to take the cable car up to the top of the hill and learn about the Virgen del Socavón. I bought my ticket which had a QR code that did not work, but fortunately there were staff around so they could see I had a recent unused ticket and let me through.
Once I arrived at the top of the hill, I wandered around and saw some breathtaking views (a theme in Bolivia) and tried to crouch down low enough to get a picture of the entire statue.
Virgen del Socavón, Oruro
Then, I went inside the museum. I tried to pay the 10 bolivianos entrance fee but the security guards had no change so they only charged me the Bolivian rate of 5. (Lack of change is a theme of my Bolivian experience, which was compounded by the fact that few places took credit cards and if I left what I would consider a modest tip because of the lack of change, in 95% of situations, people would try to give the money back to me). I was not that mad about this but I was frustrated to see several more flights of stairs after I had already climbed a bunch. I saw a floor of paintings of the Virgen del Socavón, a floor of photographs of the sanctuary, which had begun as a chapel, and, as I had read about in the archive in Sucre, became a church in the early 20th century. There was another floor dedicated to masks worn during Carnaval, and paintings of miners putting on their Carnaval costumes.
Painting in the museum inside the statue of the Virgen del Socavón, portraying Carnaval: a man dressed as St Michael the Archangel, a miner, and a man dressed as a diablada dancer
I did not stay very long because it smelled like cigarette smoke and when I left I saw a small gift shop where I bought two magazines and a book and some popcorn because I was hungry and that’s what there was in the store.
To round out my understanding of the Virgen del Socavón, I returned to the church dedicated to her – this time, when it was actually open (lots of places in Bolivia close over lunchtime, and it seems like some Catholic churches are accessible outside of masses if you walk through the office, but you have to know where the office is). I attended about 75% of Easter mass and really appreciated the beautiful sanctuary, which had images of Jesus, Mary and Joseph in the same clothes that miners wear, and in what looked to me like traditional clothing for Indigenous people in Bolivia’s highlands. Things were going well until the priest started talking about covid, and said that he knew that if he had died in the early part of the pandemic he would have accepted God’s will. I decided that the sermon was not going to get better after that.
I walked to the back of the church – a real benefit of attending mass in Latin America as a tourist is that lots of people come and go the entire time. Also, since I’m not Catholic I’m not going to participate in the Eucharist – but neither is about half the church.
Some of the tables with candles, chapel inside the church dedicated to the Virgen del Socavón, Oruro
I found a room full of images of the Virgen del Socavón and tables full of burning candles. The walls were covered with ex-votos or plaques that commemorate miracles the Virgen del Socavón had performed. There was also a (closed) door to the mine museum entrance and I will either leave that to a future visit – or never visit because it is very small and steep and I am interested in my head remaining attached to my body.
Museum entrance, church dedicated to the Virgen del Socavón, Oruro
Although it remains somewhat unclear to me how exactly this religious devotion started and it is obvious that the Virgen del Socavón is much beloved and the cable car ride made the whole trip worthwhile.
A selection of mostly Catholic religious objects in Bolivia, to accompany the post about Brazil
Virgen del Carmen (patron saint of Bolivia), in an office building in Sucre, near where I bought a bus ticket. Painting of the Virgin Mary breastfeeding, Archive of the Archdiocese of SucreStatue of Jesus, chapel, Castillo de la Glorieta, SucreAltar to Jesus inlaid in a building, Sucre Virgen del Cerro, Casa de la Moneda PotosíVirgen de Guadalupe, Potosí. Just when I thought I was figuring out which Virgen de Guadalupe was important, I realized I was wrong Something for the Virgen del Carmen, UyuniVirgen del Carmen (?), train station, UyuniHome altars donated by people who migrated elsewhere, Iglesia San Miguel de Tomave, Salt Flats TourMany possibilities for acquiring images of the Virgen del Socavón, OruroPreparing for Semana Santa parade, OruroJesus in the sand, Oruro
My tour of the salt flats ended at around 6 pm and I headed to the Uyuni bus station to go to Oruro. I had heard about this city from one of my colleagues, who had lived there for several years, who encouraged me to go there, specifically because of my interest in religious rituals and mining. Oruro is primarily known for its Carnaval and it was “kind of boring” according to fellow travelers.
Paintings above a Desk in the Cultural Extension Office of the Universidad Técnica de Oruro, and Simón Patiño House Museum
The appropriate activity for Holy Week (the week before Easter) in many countries I have visited in Latin America is to go to the beach, but Bolivia has no beach, so I stayed in the mountains. Incidentally, I was in Uyuni while Bolivia was celebrating the Bolivian day of the sea, which commemorates military losses and loss of ports to Chile.
Posters commemorating Bolivian Day of the Sea in Uyuni
I arrived quite late and checked in to my hotel, named after la Virgen del Socavón (Our Lady of the Mine Entrance), which I had picked specifically because of the name. While it would have been interesting to visit Oruro during the miner’s Carnaval and festival to la Virgen del Socavón that takes place two weeks prior to Carnaval, or Carnaval itself, I was in Brazil and don’t have regrets about that.
On my second day in Oruro, I took care of some life administration like acquiring another month of data from Entel – Bolivian telecommunications company who I bought my SIM card from, and attempted to figure out my immigration status. According to some websites I had read, Canadians did not require visas for 90 day stays in Bolivia but did need a stamp to renew their presence in the country every thirty days. While I, as a person, do not believe in borders and think that people should be allowed to live where they choose, I, as a person, am not interested in breaking immigration laws of countries I would like to visit more than once (or even countries I’d like to visit once, honestly). I had gone to the migration office in Uyuni and was told that I did not need a stamp in my passport, but the man also didn’t seem to be able to use a computer so I decided I should go somewhere else for a second opinion. The second opinion confirmed that I did not need a stamp in my passport, and the office seemed much better staffed, and all the staff seemed to be able to use computers, which reassured me. There was also no line for foreigners – only Bolivians – which was problematic and very much in keeping with other experiences I’ve had in Latin America. I left and decided that someone would figure out my immigration situation at the airport when I left the country.
I checked into my airbnb – although I only planned to stay in Oruro for six more days, one of those days was Good Friday and one of those days was Easter Sunday, and I wanted to be in a place where I would be able to cook food in case most restaurants were closed those days. I was right in the city centre, which was great, and the internet only kind of worked very near the router, which was less great. The Airbnb also had carpets, which meant that it was much warmer than the train car I stayed in in Uyuni and the airbnb I stayed in in Potosí.
I visited several interesting sites, one of which was mining magnate Simón Patiño‘s Oruro home. He was the subject of very heavy books I bought on the last day I was in Sucre, and as an incredibly wealthy man, he had more than one home, several of which are now museums.
Although the tour of the museum focused on the architecture and furniture, which were less interesting to me, there were some really cool parts as well.
I saw a statue of the boy who discovered the tin that Patiño’s company would eventually mine – and the remnants of offerings to this statue from the beginning of Lent. According to my guide’s use of a nickname that I’m not going to be repeating the boy was likely Black. This would make sense given that the Spanish empire enslaved Africans in their mines, regardless of what all my tours told me about Black people dying in Bolivian mines, and today, that all Afro-Bolivians live in Bolivia’s lowlands.
I also saw the Patiño family’s private chapel, which included memorials to the Patiño family and to employees of the Universidad Técnica de Oruro, which runs the museum.
Family chapel, Museo Simón Patiño, Oruro
I saw camping equipment that Patiño (or more likely his employees) used to travel from cities like Oruro to his mines, and realized that camping is dodgy not just for its connections to white supremacy and military technology but also because of its connection to primarily resource extraction.
Camping chairs
After my visit, I saw some books on display, and tried to buy them, only to be directed to the author of some other books, so I bought those instead. The person who held the key to the cabinet with the books I was very interested in was “going to come back soon” but I never made it back to the museum – there were too many other interesting things to do.
After my day in Pulacayo and a day hanging out in my hotel room because everything was closed for the census, I was finally able to go on my tour! I switched from a three day to a two day tour because there were things I wanted to see in my next stop – and I wasn’t sure if they would be open every day during Holy Week/the week before Easter.
I think every tour company does more or less the same tour, with slight differences in food and hotel quality. I opted for a Spanish tour to save money and as I suspected ended up with Latin Americans and Europeans. The tour started in the train cemetery (it was a very train-y week).
Me on top of a train at the train cemetery
We were then dragged to the town of Colchani to buy handicrafts. I sat in the shade. Then finally we got to the Salt Flats! Although I didn’t see any mining, the flats are so large that there is significant lithium mining in this region.
The Bolivian Salt Flats are much more impressive than the Argentine ones I saw 15 years ago. Which were very impressive in their own right!
Our guide drove an SUV through standing water for what felt like hours. It was incredible. I remained skeptical that I would remain alive as the tour guide was filming and driving at the same time. At one point the man sitting in the front started steering.
Reflection, photo by guide Juan Carlos
I went during rainy season so there was a very cool reflection effect.
Holding the sun, photo by guide Juan Carlos
I stayed overnight in a salt hotel, and got a private room because my travel agency was too disorganized to set me up in a hotel with other people. No complaints. The second day of my tour I saw lagoons and hot springs. Unfortunately I did not see flamingos.
I did see some llamas
I drove along a Bolivian highway thanks to the encouragement of my fellow travelers, and got some really good Spotify playlists.
I left Potosí on a Thursday, after a week of research a touring, to go to Uyuni. I was supposed to stay in a private room in a hostel in the Uyuni train station and then go to the salt flats the next day. Unfortunately there was a census in Bolivia on the Saturday – and all Bolivians had to be at home, even going to their original hometowns, and so overnight trips were suspended until Sunday. So, in this environment of strong Biblical overtones, I had to recalibrate.
Train car hotel room
I upgraded my very basic room (small twin and no windows iirc) to a whole entire train car! Possibly the coolest place I’ve ever stayed. It also had a microwave and fridge and a kettle and medium functional wifi. The train car also heated up during the day so it got quite warm – handy because the nights are cold.
Home sweet train station
The next day, I decided to go Pulacayo to see the remnants of the Mina Huanchaca, which had been the richest mine in Bolivia in the 19th century (supplanting the Cerro Rico).
There was a train museum which was hella cool and as I wandered I saw some buildings abandoned a long time ago
I continued to wandered around the town, attempted to enter a museum but it was closed, and saw many abandoned homes and two spots for possible statues of saints or the Virgin Mary without the sacred figure.
I kept hearing music but not seeing people, until I happened upon some younger employees of a company restarting mineral exploration in the region.
I believe this is a llama. I got very close to them and was definitely more scared than they were.
I did a few other things in Potosí besides go to the Cerro Rico. I gazed out the windows at the nearby mountains and the Cerro Rico itself.
Skyline view
I also visited the archives at the Casa de la Moneda, which complimented the research I had done in archives in Sucre about lay religious associations, and showed some striking parallels to research I conducted in archives in San Luis Potosí. My biggest disappointment was that I was not able to see the painting of the Virgen del Cerro – because the balcony was unstable or some other unspoken reason.
Casa de la Moneda Potosí
I ate some really good food. K’alapurka is soup that is kind of like pozole served with volcanic rocks. I had been advised that the best place was near the cemetery but it was never open when I was near there, so I tried it at a place that is so famous is even has a YouTube clip.
Kalapurka doña Mecha
My tour guides had several recommendations for me, like going to a special mass on Bolivian Father’s Day, which is the Feast day of St. Joseph. A mining cooperative, named after St. Joseph/San Jose, organized a mass and celebration each year to honor their cooperative and remember deceased miners.
They also took me on an extra tour – the Monday I was in Potosí don Grover took me to the cemetery. We went on Monday because that is the day when most people go to the cemetery to look after their loved ones’ graves. Once we arrived, we drank some chicha (fermented corn drink) out of dried squash husks. Then we walked into the cemetery. I noticed right away that there were people praying the rosary – you can pay to have blind or visually impaired people to pray for your loved ones. I think this is so they can get to heaven because I think purgatory is still official Catholic doctrine. If it is not official Catholic doctrine, it is definitely part of Catholic practice.
Cementerio General, Potosí
Three things stuck out to me about this cemetery. First, was that the cemetery was divided into areas – unions, professional associations and large mining cooperatives all had their own blocks of the cemetery. Second, was that people could only be buried for a very short period of time, and while the cemetery and municipal authorities are supposed to let you know so that you can arrange to have your loved one cremated it is very easy to miss this communication. Third was that people whose loved ones had died more recently were gathered in groups around the grave, perhaps cleaning it or leaving an offering or flowers. I would be interested in returning to Potosí to read cemetery records – or perhaps these are held in one of the archives I already visited in Sucre.
I am not as prolific of a cemetery visitor (or photographer) as Erin Unger but I had some photographs of cemeteries where my great-grandmother and some great aunts and uncles are buried in Mexico so I could share that with my tour guide as he was sharing so much of his own experience with me. It might be for the best that I don’t have any pictures of loved ones in their coffins because that is a cultural practice that is somewhat difficult to explain – so difficult that I even wrote an academic article about it (which I can send in PDF if this link doesn’t work). Or, it could have been a really interesting cultural interaction. We’ll never know.
Potosí is most famous for its Cerro Rico, which enriched the Spanish empire and purportedly made Potosí one of the largest cities in the Americas at the height of mining, between the 16th and the 18th centuries. I was especially interested in visiting Potosí because of this mine and the rituals that surround El Tio de la mina (and because while I was in Sucre, I had met Pascal Absi, who was the author of one of the best books on mining rituals in Potosí – in Spanish and open access).
I arrived in the late afternoon on a Thursday, and got set up in my airbnb, which was above a roast chicken restaurant. I think it had at one time been a clothing store, because an entire wall (facing the street) was windows, with curtains that blocked out a very small amount of light and cold.
The next day, I had booked a tour of the Cerro Rico – thanks to anthropologist Kirsten Francescone, who connected me with a tour company run by former miners, who were willing to do private tours, and have been part of at least one documentary.
The tour company told me to come on a Friday because then I could see the miners participate in weekly ceremonies. Unfortunately the miners had had a celebration on the Wednesday (because of an equipment repair) so I wandered in the depths of the mine while chewing coca leaves (to prevent altitude sickness) and turning down beer with my tour guide don Grover and the miners. In spite of this disappointment I saw two altars as well as remnants of several festivals.
The first altar portrays at crucified Christ, strewn with garlands, and with coca leaves as an offering.
Catholic shrine at the mine entrance
The second mine was to El Tio de la Mina. This is a hyper-masculine entity (see for example the large phallus) and he wears the same boots that miners do. Miners leave token offerings of coca, alcohol and beer (Argentine beer seems to be a favorite). They typically gather around this shrine, likely on the seating areas, when they start working in the very early morning hours, and celebrate there each Friday. Every time they take a load of minerals out of the mine, they stopped for a moment and bowed their heads.
There is a story that El Tio comes from the word “Dios” and is rooted in the colonial period and is an example of religious inculturation, or syncretism. Interestingly, my tour of the Potosi cathedral and my tour of the mine had nearly the exact same story (like, almost word for word) about El Tio, and for this reason, I would submit that the origins are part of a lengthier process of religious and cultural negotiation.
Shrine to El Tio de la Mina a bit further along
I walked around the mine tunnels, which to me felt like the depths of the earth, which my tour guide assured me were not, and looked for different miners to talk to. My tour guide had been the president of this mining cooperative and so knew many of the miners and chatted with them in Quechua, and then I chatted and asked questions in Spanish. I had purchased beer and coca leaves as part of my tour, but could not drink the beer. I think this was culturally insensitive but coca leaves were my limit with substances at high altitude in a claustrophobia inducing environment.
Needless to say, I learned a lot. It is one thing to read about El Tio de la mina, and the ways that various rituals and celebrations are important to a given community and another to see them up close.
I even noticed some parallels with research I conducted on Mennonites in Mexico. In both cases, the people I was most interested in speak a language I don’t speak – but in both Quechua and Low German there are enough influences from Spanish that I had some idea of what was going on. They are also experts in areas where I am really not – in this case, mining, and in the case of the Mennonites, agriculture and related businesses. I also observed that chewing coca leaves is like eating sunflower seeds – you spit out either the sunflower seed shell or the coca leaf stem. I cannot do either.
None were as cool as the accidental archive cat in Sucre, of course.
Cat at the Cristo Redentor Statue, Rio de Janeiro, BrazilFeeding pigeons, Plaza Murillo La Paz, Bolivia
Me and some llamas (I think) in Pulacayo, BoliviaDog sleeping, UyuniSalt Hotel Cat, Colchani, BoliviaCat, Uyuni, BoliviaCat, Catedral de Potosí, Bolivia
Rebecca J 