Mom and I left La Serena to visit the internationally-known Valle de Elqui where the sun shines 300 days per year. I was hesitant to visit a desert after living in Nevada my entire life, but the Elqui Valley is unmatched with its surprisingly fertile soil. So thanks to the suggestions (prodding, rather) of my beginning-level English students, we took a (very) full day tour that winded through several of the valley’s tiny towns to an observatory where the sky sparkled like I’ve never seen before.

A snapshot of Valle de Elqui, Chile: Patches of wine grapevines, papaya trees and avocado farms flourish in vibrant greens on dusty mountainsides of Valle de Elqui known for its fertile desert-scape. A river snakes through the thin valley between vast mountains that keep the miniature towns seemingly secluded from the modern world. But as tourists pour in, the mountains are merely a backdrop rather than a protective barrier. Foreigners in shiny, new cars interrupt farmers on horseback who herd baa-ing sheep down country roads; the shepherd dogs struggle to keep order in the conflicting scene: a clashing of two eras. Night falls to reveal a connect-the-dots puzzle of a million stars — planets, even — illuminating the sky with dozens of constellations never seen anywhere else in the world.

The valley.

The tour started at a papaya farm where we saw the beautiful trees up close. I didn’t like papayas until I tasted it in half a dozen varieties of sweet treats: jams, candies, juices. The Elqui Valley is known for its papayas, and now I know why. On the hillside, my favorite — avocados — grew near the dam.

We also visited a pisco distillery that produces some of the last high-quality moonshine around, but boy is it strong! I preferred the mango blend to the straight liquor. Most distilleries now produce low-grade pisco (the good stuff was once Chile’s national beverage) since Coca Cola invented the now very popular Piscola as a marketing ploy to increase its consumer base in Chile. The pisco-Coke blend, celebrated as the nation’s drink since 2003, hides the alcohol’s flavor, allowing liquor companies to produce cheaper, lower-quality pisco.

Somewhere along the dusty roads, we ran across a herd of sheep … now that’s one thing you’d certainly never see in the Las Vegas desert.

Avocados growing on the hillside.

Mom and me.

Sheep! Photo by Melisa Fryman

Sheep. Photo by Melissa Fryman

The tour took us to several towns in the valley, all of which were home to essentially the same handicrafts and small plaza squares. We ate lunch at a neat restaurant that cooks its entire menu in solar-powered ovens on its deck. I ordered the Chilean favorite, pollo asado (roasted chicken), and it was arguably the best version of the dish I’ve had. Topped off with fresh, natural strawberry and chirimoya (Chilean pearlike fruit) juice made for a delicious, eco-friendly meal.

Cloudy night skies delayed our visit to the Mamalluca Observatory. While we waited, a stray dog brought a little rock to my feet. Realizing he wanted to play, I kicked it and we started a game of soccer (no joke) where he guarded me each time I went in for a kick. Even Chilean street dogs can play fútbol!

A small town in the valley.

A very big and very cute puppy. Photos by Jessica Fryman (left) and Melissa Fryman (right).

A church in the plaza.

Solar-cooking ovens.

The coolest rock soccer-playing dog ever.

Two hours of waiting and we finally drove to the observatory where winds made for a bitter cold night. When we arrived, the sky was perfectly clear and my neck started to hurt from looking up so long. The sky was indescribable as millions of stars twinkled in a way I’ve never imagined.

We hurried to a tour, looking through some of the most powerful telescopes in the world to see Mars and Saturn’s ring as clouds started to roll in. I caught the full moon rising from behind the mountain, just before it hid between puffy clouds. The short-lived views were so spectacular, it was a shame to be unable to capture a picture (I’m nowhere near trained or have the equipment in those kind of night conditions). However, it was also a good experience to feel so close to nature without being behind a lens; in fact, I far more enjoyed seeing the stars without the telescope.

It all made me feel so small and disconnected from the rest of whatever it is that’s out “there.” But it’s that feeling that inspires me to go on to the next adventure, and learn more about this big, big world.

Courtesy of http://mariacirano.tumblr.com

—JDF