I was mighty chuffed with my photo of the cordero-dora and wanted to get some more photos of Potosí-ans, even if it meant having to grovel and pay a few Bolivianos.
Among the locals in the square selling street food from little carts and cloth-covered trays, I spotted two natural medicine carts. Both were surrounded by a throng of apparently ailing-types drinking murky potions from high-ball or shot glasses – or waiting impatiently in line to buy a treatment. Ace photo opportunity number two.
Both stalls-holders were women of indefinable age (they all are). The one with the stall in the middle of the square was tall, matronly and threatening in a cream straw hat. The other, less terrifying senora was petite and solemn with shiny pigtails and had set her stall against the wall.
Both approached their work with the seriousness of surgeons, furiously polishing glasses and whipping up potions from a line-up of recycled Johnny Walker Red bottles filled alternately with bright and dishwater-coloured liquids that frothed from being constantly shaken and poured. Jars of sandy-hued powders, mysterious liquids in brown bottles, an enamel pot filled with long, wet blades of grass, sliced lemons and limes, and a jar of honey (to make the concoctions more palatable) perched on the cart too. We could smell eucalptus.
After loitering with intent for 10 minutes and not being game enough to ask for a photo in front of a crowd, we left to explore more streets and plan the approach in detail. I was struck with the idea to ask her for a remedy for my problematic skin, rather than just grovel for a photo.
We returned and I approached the shiny pigtail senora, my speech in Spanish prepared and practised. But lo and behold she apologised and said she didn’t have any of the ingredients left (yep, the Johnny Walker bottles were practically empty) but she’d have them again tomorrow. It would cost 2 Bolivians (about 20p/40c).
I’m ashamed to say I thought she’d slosh together any old stuff so she didn’t miss an opportunity to make a Boliviano from the silly gringa, but no. I returned after breakfast the next day after breakfast and watched as she mixed together:
A few splashes of bright green liquid
A few splashes of dishwatery liquid
A splash of rust coloured liquid
A shot of what looked like Johnny Walker
Half a teaspoon of light brown powder
A glug of honey
It tasted like a mown grass (with honey).
Two days later and my skin’s not looking much better but I think I might need to make the medicine lady a regular in my life to see a difference.
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