Arica

Stargazing in Chile's Atacama Desert is about as close to interstellar travel as most of us mere mortals will ever get. Picture yourself sprawled in the planet's driest non-polar desert (so dry NASA tests Mars rovers here), squinting at the Milky Way so absurdly clear and vibrant you'd swear someone cranked up the cosmic saturation just to mess with you. Seriously-this is the sort of sky Galileo would've traded his telescope for, and perhaps even his immortal soul. Aim to arrive after sunset, when darkness rolls in like a velvet curtain around 9 pm, and consider booking a guided stargazing tour at least a week or two in advance to dodge the soul-crushing disappointment of sold-out astronomical expeditions. Bring warm layers (the desert is notoriously fickle, flaming hot by day and teeth-chatteringly cold by night), a flask of something strong enough to warm your soul, and around $40-$80 for a proper astronomical tour. In the grand scheme, what you're buying is perspective-the bone-deep realization that we're all just floating specks on a cosmic dust storm. Even if astronomy's not your jam, it's worth it just to say you've consulted with the universe beneath the clearest skies on Earth-and survived to brag about it.

If you've ever dreamed of clinging breathlessly to a mountain, muttering passionate obscenities at thin Andean air and questioning every life decision that brought you here, climbing Parinacota Volcano is exactly your kind of beautifully reckless adventure. Rising like an imposing snow-capped sentinel along the Chilean-Bolivian border, Parinacota means "flamingo lake" in Aymara, though why flamingos would pick this hostile, wind-beaten landscape is a mystery best pondered while gasping for oxygen at over 6,300 meters. Plan to hit the trailhead pre-dawn-a brutally early start, yes, but sunrise atop an Andean volcano is like a psychedelic symphony orchestrated by Mother Nature herself. Allow at least two days to acclimate at altitude beforehand, lest you spend your climb retching in high-altitude misery, becoming a cautionary tale whispered around hostel campfires. Budget around $200-$300 for gear rental, a trusty guide, and enough snacks to bribe your weary legs onward; don't forget layers, polarized sunglasses, and lip balm-trust me, chapped lips at altitude feel worse than a hangover-induced existential crisis. But here's the kicker: scaling Parinacota Volcano isn't just another adrenaline-fueled feather to shove smugly into your traveler's cap-it's an absurd, raw, humbling testament to human audacity. Do it for the bragging rights, do it for the Instagram glory, or simply do it because few things pair so delightfully with a cold cerveza as boasting "I climbed a volcano today."

At over 4,500 meters above sea level, Chungara Lake sits smugly among the world's highest lakes, like an aging rockstar subtly daring you to handle its lofty altitude without wheezing embarrassingly. Nestled within the surreal vastness of Chile's Lauca National Park, this luminous disc of water mirrors snow-capped volcanoes and stubborn flamingos who refuse to accept there might be easier places to snack. Aim to arrive just after sunrise, when the lake wakes up in hues of gold and violet that'd make Monet toss his paintbrush in envy. Plan a few days ahead-mostly to stockpile water, sunscreen, and snacks, as civilization is charmingly sparse out here-and bring warm clothes. Even if you're the sort of person whose lungs complain loudly at altitude, budgeting around forty bucks (give or take) for park fees and transport is a fair price for the chance to brag about surviving a scenic view that practically tickles outer space. Because honestly, who doesn't want to casually drop into conversations how they watched flamingos dance beneath volcanic peaks while battling mild hypoxia?