The Andes - La Rinconada
The coca leaves, the candies. Puno. A visit to the market for the provisions for the trip. The Lake Titicaca with a shitty white massive building on the shore − an enormous tourist complex. A lot of gringos on the streets. It gets cooler at the evening. The influence of the altitude is evident. We left tomorrow early morning. Direction? Opposite to the ones, recommended to cross the bolivian border. Destination? We"ll see.
Now already in Juliaca before leaving toward La Rinconada are making friends looking for a place to eat.
And for the trip - fruits.
We leave at noon. The only feasible option is a "movilidad" to La Rinconada. We want to arrive to the vicinities of the Lake Suches and that name of the gold mine rings a bell for us. We find out that also it is a town. It is strange to check the ridiculous of our notion of the time. The circumstances immunize against the impatience.
The bus becomes full. We are dozing. The dust little by little prints the stamp of the dream. Through the window passes the immobility of the highland. Only the colorful of the dresses bursts in. And already with the last daylight the great white barrier of the snowy peaks. And going up and up. We remain few in the bus. The majority get out in Ananea - a village that lives from the mine and for the mine. The working day there lasts 24 hours. Lights in the distance. The day finishes there.
La Rinconada. In spite of the darkness and the cold the town is an anthill. The streets are full of all kind of goods. Mud mixed up with waste left after the market in the center. The omnipresent signs of gold purchase and sale. Steaming food stalls. The spiral staircases that take to the second floor entrances of the houses. A sort of fervor, intensity. Immediately you are within the relations with the people. The ease and the naturalness surprises. But this is not Alaska and it is not the gold fever.
To climb stone steps - an eternity. Wiil it the fatigue of the travel be? The night bring no respite. The next day we know the reason; we are at the altitude of about 5200 meters. It was the second day of the trip. Coca leaves and candies.
A very cold morning. Water piping that takes the water to the town froze during the night. It is difficult to wake up if one has not slept. Everything what is not to breathe seems irrelevant.
In spite of all this we force ourselves to have breakfast. The streets are catching their rhythm. Few children can be seen. Soon we find out that almost two thirds of the families have their tender age sons and daughters working in the mine.
Suches, Sina or whatever can be to continue. The car for Suches left yesterday and the following will leave in one week. But without the formalized services are necessary and thanks to that there are not present, one finds solutions to unforeseen events. An unforgettable memory of Victor − unique; editor, speaker and do-it-all of the "Latin Radio" radio station. The most listened in the town; in a quarter of an hour appears a candidate to take us to the border. Meanwhile we share the space with the mayor that makes the summary of the contributions to local celebrations. Speech with a lot of own style. We give the approval to the van and many thanks through the waves. Those who we met just a night ago now make a difficult question: when you will return? We do not know.
