Dust & Echoes in Potosí
okay, so, potosí. seriously. i’m pretty sure my brain is still buffering. it’s like… a pressure thing, you know? 1013, feels like 28.28, temp’s stuck at 27.55 all day. it’s not bad, it’s just… intense. i landed yesterday and immediately felt like i’d stepped into a black and white film. the altitude hits you hard, like a brick wall made of thin air. i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.
I’m a touring session drummer, so my usual travel style is ‘grab a bag, find a stage,’ but potosí is different. it’s not about the gigs, not really. it’s about the weight of the place. the silver. the history. it’s clinging to everything. i’m staying in this tiny hostel near the Plaza Mayor - it smells faintly of llama wool and regret, which is… fitting, i guess.
I stumbled across this place called ‘La Cervecería del Sol’ - Yelp says it’s ‘surprisingly good’ - and someone told me that the owner, Ricardo, used to be a miner. he’s got these incredible hands, like carved stone. he just stares at you while you drink your beer, like he’s judging your life choices. it was… unsettling.
Spent the morning wandering around the Cerro Rico. you know, the one they mined silver out of for centuries? it’s insane. like, you’re literally walking through the scars of a forgotten empire. i took a bunch of photos, trying to capture the scale of it, but it’s impossible. it just… is.
I’m trying to keep a list, but it’s useless. it’s like trying to catch smoke. here’s what i’ve got so far:
Altitude Sickness: Seriously, take it easy. Drink coca tea. Don’t try to climb anything before noon.
*Silver: Everywhere. Jewelry, coins, statues. It’s in the walls, the streets, the air.
*The People: They’re… weathered. Like they’ve seen a lot. And they’re not afraid to let you know it.
*Street Food:* Be careful. I heard that… well, let’s just say someone told me that the fried potatoes near the market are a gamble. Definitely check TripAdvisor for recent reviews.
I spent an afternoon just sitting in the Plaza, watching the locals. there’s this old woman selling hand-woven textiles - she’s got this incredible face, like a roadmap of a life well-lived. she didn’t speak much english, but she offered me a piece of coca leaf and a knowing smile.
I’m trying to find a decent coffee shop, but it’s proving difficult. Apparently, the best stuff is brewed in someone’s kitchen. I’m starting to think I’ll just stick with the beer. I heard that ‘Café La Ronda’ is decent, but it’s always packed. Maybe I’ll check out Yelp for some hidden gems.
Speaking of locals, if you get bored, Sucre is just a short drive away. It’s got this whole colonial vibe, apparently. I’m not sure I’m in the mood for another perfectly preserved town, but… hey, options.
I’m exhausted. my feet are killing me. i think i’m going to find a dark corner and stare at the walls for a while.
Seriously, though, potosí. it’s a place that gets under your skin. it’s not pretty, it’s not comfortable, but it’s… real. and maybe that’s exactly what i needed.
Oh, and one last thing: don’t trust anyone who offers you a ‘lucky silver coin.’ It’s probably just a rusty piece of scrap metal. Trust me on this one.