La Serena

In the heart of Chile's Valle del Elqui, a place so ridiculously clear and star-studded that NASA itself might harbor secret envy, arm yourself with a sturdy blanket, a flask of fiery pisco from the valley's own distilleries, and a sense of wonder slightly dulled in city life. Aim for late evening-say around 10 pm-when darkness drapes the valley so thick you'll swear you've stumbled into outer space itself. Plan ahead at least a week to snag a coveted slot in one of the small-group telescope tours, lest you end up bitterly stargazing solo from a roadside pull-off. Budget about $30-$50 USD, because even cosmic enlightenment comes cheaper than an overrated steak back home. Remember layers, because clear skies here mean chillier nights than you'd expect, and the Andean breeze has a sense of humor. Is spotting Orion's belt clearer here than anywhere else worth the trek? Absolutely. But even if astronomy isn't your jam, bragging rights to having drunk-shadow-boxed your existential dread under the clearest skies of the Southern Hemisphere makes the journey existentially-if not astronomically-mandatory.

If you've exhausted your tolerance for serene beaches and predictable dolphin sightings, shake things up with a trip to the Humboldt Penguin Reserve near Punta de Choros-Chile's gloriously remote answer to the more crowded Galapagos. Accessible only by a guided boat tour (because apparently penguins require bouncers nowadays), the reserve is a windswept cluster of islands hosting a riotous spectacle of waddling Humboldt penguins, lazy sea lions, and cranky seabirds who resent your intrusion into their salty celebrity hideaway. Go early in the morning, ideally before 10 a.m., to catch the wildlife at its most energetic and the notoriously fickle coastal winds at their least cantankerous. Booking at least three days ahead keeps you from bargaining in desperate Spanglish at the last minute, and budgeting around $30-$50 per person covers the tour, lifejacket, and the privilege of smelling guano-scented sea breezes-a bargain! Don't forget a weatherproof jacket, sunscreen, and ideally something that can survive close encounters with salt spray and penguin-related droppings. Sure, you'll leave sunburned, salty-eyed, and smelling faintly of fish, but there's a special swagger in saying you've hung out with penguins on the rocky edge of nowhere-worth the price of admission for the bragging rights alone.

Every now and then, nature tosses us a bone-like the bafflingly beautiful bloom of Chile's Atacama Desert, a landscape otherwise so stubbornly barren that NASA uses it as a sadistic training ground for Mars missions. Only once or twice each decade, after rare rains tiptoe in, the desert throws off its dry, dusty cloak and slips into an outrageous floral explosion-think Monet, on a desert acid trip. To catch this ephemeral event requires a gambler's heart and a hobo's agility; monitor forecasts obsessively, drop everything when the rains hit, and hustle down to Atacama sometime between August and October. Aim for dawn-you'll dodge selfie-stick wielders and get the kind of soft, golden lighting Instagram influencers only dream of. Pack water, sunscreen, and camera gear sturdy enough to survive lunar-like grit. Budget wisely-a few hundred bucks for a comfy bed in San Pedro de Atacama and transportation; or go rogue, sleep in a camper van, and embrace the sand in your sandwiches. But trust me, the effort pays off. You don't just witness this event-you stumble upon a botanical miracle, a fleeting show that mocks regularity and thrives on improbability. Even if the bloom eludes you, you'll leave with a sunburned nose, shoes filled with sand, and a perfectly embellished tale of chasing a mythical flower show in Earth's driest place-and, let's face it, that's half the reason you're heading there anyway.

Hitting the Domeyko Heritage Route is less a gentle Sunday drive and more a dusty pilgrimage into Chile's gritty industrial drama. Named after Ignacio Domeyko-a man who knew his ores from his elbow-this route slices through hauntingly beautiful landforms shaped by time, wind, and humanity's unquenchable thirst for things buried underground. Trundling along the sun-baked roads, you'll pass abandoned ghost towns whispering tales of past prosperity and rusted machinery that could've belonged to Mad Max had he preferred copper exports to apocalypse chic. Pack extra water, snacks, and sunscreen (and maybe a playlist heavy on Johnny Cash), aim to start your petrol-burning adventure at dawn or late afternoon-because midday sun here is roughly equivalent to crawling through Dante's Inferno wearing a wool sweater. Planning ahead by a day or two usually suffices; the Domeyko route isn't swamped with tourists yet, probably because it doesn't serve artisanal avocado toast or selfies with llamas. Budget around 30-50 USD for gas and roadside empanadas, and don't forget a camera to capture your best artsy shots of rust and ruin. Even if untouched geology doesn't quicken your pulse, trust me-you'll leave here with enough grit, copper trivia, and existential awe to dominate dinner parties for years.