The stars really do come out in style in the Atacama desert. This is the driest place on earth. It hasn't rained here for, well...for millions of years. In fact, an old lady I spoke to told me (whispering in my ear - lest somebody take offence at her secret wish), that she has never experienced the sensation of raindrop patter on skin. Imagine that? Never having felt raindrops on your cheeks? The Atacama desert lies in the northernmost third of Chile. It is bounded on its eastern front by the high Andes. These towering peaks block the moisture from the Atlantic travelling westwards. The western side of Chile is bordered by the cold ocean currents of the pacific. These soak up any excess moisture in the atmosphere coming in from the west. Thus, caught in the middle of these two moisture traps, lies the driest place on earth - the Atacama. Even bacteria don't survive in the Atacama. Here people don't die of infections. The desert kills them. The signs are everywhere: unmarked graves, crosses and makeshift piles of stone, bleached bones - all these litter the landscape like corpses. Memories of the dead linger on in silence. No one is watching. No one is listening. Except the buzzards circling overhead.
The stars really do come out blazing here. The Atacama desert is the best place on earth for star gazing. The complete absence of moisture and wispish clouds coupled with stable winds means that the clarity of the night sky above the Atacama is second to none. Here you can peer farther into the universe, and further back into time, then anywhere else. And all with your own eyes. No telescopes required. As soon as the sun dives behind the horizon, when you look up at the deadening sky, you will see a remarkable sight: a meadow of stars. A nursery of stars sprouting more and more of these twinkling balls of light as the sky darkens. Here you can literally download the universe! Up there the suns of the heavens blaze. It was up there, in amongst the galaxies, that the very minerals of the desert you are standing on, were forged. Forged in a celestial foundry.
But don't be mistaken. The stars may bewitch and beguile you into a trembling stupor when the velvet curtain falls at night; but during the day, the sun is king. As the first blast of morning rays shoot out from the top of the Andes, the desert undergoes a rapidly fluctuating play of colours. From lighter shades of fawn to orange, then red and yellow, and at midday - platinum. Burning hot white platinum. Nothing grows here. No shrubbery. There is no shade to hide under. This scorched land has not known water - ever. Since the Andes were formed not a single drop has fallen on these here parched and thirsty lands. No creature stirs or scuttles across the surface here like it does in the Sahara. Nothing. No life. Like Mars perhaps.
Oh! it's a landscape of solitude and extreme introspection. You are forced to look inwards, in on yourself. Here, more then anywhere else, you will find yourself. And at night, when you look up at that field of stars, you will certainly get drunk on it. Drunk on infinity. You will taste it on your tongue. And you will hear eternity throbbing in your ears. Like the beat of your mothers heart. In her womb. Moments before you were born.
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