We were excited about going to Sucre, the “constitutional” capital of Bolivia. To be clear, the seat of government – Congress, the Presidential Palace, the various departments – is in La Paz, but the constitution declares Sucre the national capital, with the judiciary still headquartered here. Sucre has a great reputation as a place to go, great climate, colonial architecture, the heart and soul of the Bolivian independence movement, the country’s most beautiful city, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Sounds pretty great.

Quick history. Known in colonial times as La Plata, the city was the capital of a region that includes much of today’s Bolivia and Paraguay along with parts of Chile, Peru, and Argentina; proximity to the mines of Potosí but at a lower altitude with access to the broader region was its forté. It was and remains the headquarters of the Catholic Church in Bolivia and it’s university, founded in 1624, is older than Harvard. It was here in a former Jesuit chapel that Bolivia’s declaration of independence was signed in 1825 and in 1839 the city was renamed for the revolutionary general Antonio José de Sucre. This was the heart and soul of early Bolivia. Only when Potosí’s silver mining start to flag and economic stagnation set into the region was the seat of government (though not the official designation of national capital) moved to La Paz in 1898.

So there’s a lot to take in here. Unfortunately our experience wasn’t so great. I’m sure part of it is that we were here over Easter weekend which just meant that a lot of the city was closed up. We were both amazed when we walked out of the hotel after breakfast Monday morning at how lively things were: people on the streets, markets open, everything abuzz. That’s not what we saw in our first three days in Sucre. In fact, as I review the pictures we took I find myself thinking, “Hey, that was a really pretty city.” It’s just that at the time it seemed so lifeless and dull.

The one memory for me that’s most vivid was climbing up a steep hill toward an old convent on Easter morning that was supposed to have great views of the city. While climbing, the stench of urine was unmistakable and overwhelming. As I got to the old convent at the top of the street I saw that there was a huge market/party going on, with lots of heavy drinking. Heavy. And countless men were relieving themselves on the wall along the street, creating quite literally a stream of piss going down the hill. Not exactly the Easter Sunday memory I was anticipating – or wanting.

And then there’s the food situation. As we traveled across Peru we were routinely surprised by how great the food was. We haven’t had that experience in Bolivia and in Sucre in particular we were quickly bored with the options. There was one good place for lunch, but after four days that was really old. Otherwise it was just a question of least objectionable options.

There were some highlights. Our hotel, the Hotel de Su Merced, was one of great values we’ve had in our travels. Beautiful interior courtyard with tiles and flowers, nice views, good service, lovely breakfast, all at under $70 a night. The central square was big and leafy and a pleasant place to while away the hours. I like hiking outside a city, and there were two big hills overlooking Sucre, both of which I managed to scale for some remote reading time.

We’d scheduled five nights in Sucre but after three we were pretty much ready to leave. So we rebooked some hotel and flight reservations (all at no cost; gotta love traveling in places where you can change your flight with no penalty!) to leave a day early. We flew back to La Paz for just one night – where we had dinner at an amazingly good French restaurant – and then it’s off to northern Chile for a little time in the Atacama Desert. We’re coming back into Bolivia briefly en route to Paraguay, but for now we’re off on a little side trip into Chile.

Potosí, one of those once-great cities no one has never heard of. How great? You’ve heard of the Spanish Empire, right, and how all that New World silver discovered in the 16th century financed, well, everything, right? It pretty much all came from Cerro Rico (Rich Hill) in Potosí. According to a history of the Silk Roads – the trade routes across Central Asia and the Near East I just happened to be reading before going to Potosí – the mine there accounted for more than half of all global silver production for more than 100 years. Think of that, for over a century most of the silver mined in the entire world came from one mine high in the Bolivian Andes. The author goes on to talk about the impact this Bolivian silver had on civilizations as far-flung as Spain, Italy, India, and China.

It probably goes without saying that the conditions for 16th and 17th century miners weren’t exactly up to today’s OSHA standards. Slaves, both indigenous and imported for Africa, were impressed into the mines, working six-month shifts where they never saw the light of day. Lonely Planet says it’s estimated that as many as eight million slaves died in the 280 years of colonial silver extraction.

We toured the mine over a couple hours one day, which consisted of essentially walking through the mountain; there wasn’t nearly as much discussion of the history of the mine or the impact the mine had on the colonial experience, the Spanish Empire, and ultimately European history as I’d hoped. Still, it was striking to be walking in the very same mine that funded Spanish imperialism. You enter through the same entrance and walk some of the same passageways as those built in the mid-16th century. Today they still mine very modest amounts of silver, along with tin and … other stuff the tour guide told us about. The thought of staying in there for weeks on end was pretty overwhelming, and even today the conditions are abysmal. Potosí miners still have substantially lowered life expectations due primarily to the dust and various chemicals they inhale all day, every day.

Though it was once the largest and wealthiest city in all of the Americas, today Potosí is not much. The hotel and restaurant situation wasn’t much to write home about and the once-glorious churches are crumbling. Still, it had its charms. We arrived to the twinkling sounds of little kids parading in honor of Holy Week – Semana Santa – which made us think it would be a colorful place for a few days. What it meant in practice was that the only supposedly good restaurant in town was closed. And that from Holy Thursday through Easter Sunday no alcohol could be sold. Yikes – what is with these people?

A couple days in Potosí was just about all that was needed; a great if somewhat depressing taste of history. From here it’s on to Sucre, one of Bolivia’s capital cities.