Introduction
La Serena, positioned along the northern Chilean coastline, stands as a serene port town at the southern edge of the Atacama Desert. As the capital of Coquimbo Region, this city flourishes with a unique character where Spanish colonial architecture harmonizes with modern life. The beautiful Pacific coastline and the arid hills stretching inland create a striking contrast that quietly moves the souls of those who visit.
The cathedral rising in the city center tells a story of resilience, having been rebuilt time and again after earthquakes throughout history. Its solid stone exterior seems to symbolize the indomitable spirit of the people rooted in this land. La Serena is also renowned as a sanctuary for astronomy, with world-class observatories scattered across the nearby mountains. The crystal-clear air and minimal light pollution open doorways to the universe itself.
Walking through the streets, adobe houses line the roads, their white walls softening the intense sunlight. In the alleys, vibrant bougainvillea blooms in the distinctly South American way, petals dancing in the dry wind. The rhythm of people’s lives is gentle, and time itself seems to flow more slowly. Let me now chronicle three days spent in such a place as La Serena.
Day 1: Arrival Embraced by Desert and Sea
La Serena lies about 470 kilometers north of Santiago. After boarding a 7 AM bus and swaying for roughly six hours, the scenery outside the window gradually shifts from green to brown. The magnificent ridgeline of the Andes continues on the right, while the scent of the sea becomes increasingly present on the left. The bus glided into La Serena’s terminal just after 1 PM. The moment I stepped down, dry air enveloped my skin, making me acutely aware of being in desert territory.
Hotel Serena Plaza, my accommodation in the city center, was a small boutique hotel. The interior, renovated from a colonial-style building, combined modern comfort with historical charm. When the front desk woman warmly greeted me with “Bienvenido a La Serena,” the fatigue of travel began to melt away.
After leaving my luggage in the room, I headed out for both sustenance and exploration. I walked about five minutes from the hotel to Plaza de Armas. A fountain stood in the center of the square, surrounded by palm trees. In the intense afternoon sunlight, locals were relaxing peacefully in the shade—a scene that left a lasting impression. I decided to have a late lunch at “El Patio,” a restaurant facing the square.
While perusing the menu, Carlos, the waiter, approached and asked, “Is this your first time in La Serena?” Following his recommendation, I ordered palmo de luca, a local specialty. This dish—an enormous cutlet topped with avocado, tomato, and mayonnaise—truly embodied Chilean heartiness. Though the portion was too large for one person, the meat was tender, and the fresh avocado’s flavor spread through my mouth. Paired with a local white wine, Viña Francisco de Aguirre, it made for a perfect meal to begin the journey.
Around 4 PM, after finishing lunch, I resumed my city exploration. Standing before the cathedral’s imposing stone exterior, I was overwhelmed while contemplating its history. Since its founding in 1549, it has been destroyed by earthquakes and pirate attacks numerous times, yet each time it was rebuilt by the hands of citizens. The current building dates to the early 20th century, but its dignified presence carries weight that transcends time.
As evening approached, I walked along Avenida del Mar, the coastal avenue. The sun setting over the Pacific painted the sky orange. Local families and couples had come to the shoreline for the evening breeze, and peaceful time flowed by. Listening to the sound of waves, I walked barefoot on the sand. The sensation of sand beneath my feet brought me back to reality—that I had come all this way from distant Japan.
For dinner, I ate at a small eatery called “Picantería La Choca,” bustling with locals. The cazuela de cordero (lamb stew) made by the owner María was so tender that the lamb fell apart with chopsticks, with the vegetables’ sweetness dissolved throughout the soup. Savoring it alongside a dry Carmenère wine, surrounded by the laughter of a family at the neighboring table, I felt I had touched, just a little, the daily life of this land.
Walking back to the hotel along cobblestone streets illuminated by streetlights, I heard the elegant sound of a guitar in the distance. Following the sound, I found an elderly man alone in a small plaza, playing folklore music. This wasn’t a performance for tourists, but the pure expression of someone who loved music, and I stopped to listen for a while. The melody born from his fingertips quietly dissolved into La Serena’s night. And I too, surrendering myself to this land’s rhythm, continued slowly walking the path back to the hotel.
Day 2: A Day Woven from Starlight and Tradition
I woke at 6 AM to find the light filtering through my room’s window still faint. La Serena’s dawn is quiet, with only birdsong and distant wave sounds reaching my ears. The pickup for the Elqui Valley astronomy tour I had booked the previous evening was at 8 AM. I decided to take a light walk before breakfast.
Near the hotel, a morning market was set up, with locals gathering to buy fresh vegetables and fruits. Papaya, cherimoya, tuna (prickly pear fruit), and other fruits unfamiliar in Japan were displayed in vibrant colors. Recommended by an elderly market woman, I bought one tuna and had her peel it on the spot. When I tasted it, the subtle sweetness and unique texture were refreshing, once again making me realize I was in South American territory.
After returning to the hotel for breakfast, the pickup van soon arrived. Pablo, the guide, was a former university professor who had studied astronomy and taught me in detail about the history of astronomical observation in this region. During the roughly one-hour journey to Elqui Valley, his stories were fascinating, and time passed in a flash.
“The area around La Serena is one of the world’s most arid regions. More than 300 days a year are clear, with extremely high atmospheric transparency. That’s precisely why observatories from around the world are built here,” Pablo explained. Through the van windows, I could see white dome-shaped buildings scattered across the gentle hills. Learning these were observatories, I could feel the specialness of this land with my skin.
Around 10 AM, we first visited the Gabriela Mistral Museum in Vicuña. This museum, displaying the life and works of Chile’s Nobel Prize-winning female poet, tells the story of Elqui Valley being her homeland. Reading her poetry’s descriptions of northern Chile’s landscapes while actually standing on that land felt wonderfully strange. Her words “I am a daughter of this dry land” were written large on the museum wall.
Lunch was at a small restaurant called “Combinado Elqui” along the Elqui River. The specialty, cabrito al horno (roast kid goat), had a delicate flavor enhanced with herbs, overturning my previous concepts of goat meat. The accompanying quinoa salad, with its popping texture and perfect lemon acidity, made me realize the richness of local ingredients.
The afternoon brought a daytime astronomical observation experience at Mamalluca Observatory. Observing the sun’s surface through special filters and finding Venus’s phases in the daytime sky was truly eye-opening. Felipe, an observatory staff member, said words that stayed with me: “The universe is always there. Day or night, we are constantly under the starry sky.”
Around 4 PM, I explored the town of Pisco Elqui. This small town is famous as a production center for pisco, Chile’s national spirit. At the Pisco Museum in the town center, I learned about the history of grape cultivation and pisco production in this region. The pisco sauer I sampled had a rich aroma and smooth mouthfeel, with an elegant finish that showed no harsh alcohol bite.
As night fell, it was time for evening astronomical observation. Arriving at the observation point 1,200 meters above sea level, the air’s clarity was markedly different. The number of stars floating in the night sky was overwhelming, with the Milky Way clearly visible as a white band. The Southern Cross, Centaurus, Scorpius—constellations visible only in the Southern Hemisphere shone so close they seemed within reach.
Saturn’s rings viewed through the large telescope appeared exactly as I had only seen in textbooks, their beauty taking my breath away. The faint red of the Orion Nebula, the spiral structure of the Andromeda Galaxy—the mysteries of the universe could be genuinely experienced above this dry land. Pablo quietly said, “Seeing this starry sky makes you realize how small humans are, but at the same time, you can feel the miracle of being part of this universe.”
Returning to the La Serena hotel around 10 PM, my heart was filled with the day’s experiences. The cosmic flow of time felt under the starry sky, and the warmth of people touched during the day—this land seemed to pulse with humanity’s original rhythm, often lost in urban areas. Lying in bed, I recalled the brilliance of the Southern Cross still burned into my retinas.
Day 3: A Morning of Farewells Wrapped in Sea Breezes
On my final morning, I decided to wake a bit early and walk along the coast. At 6 AM, while the city was still wrapped in silence, I headed toward Avenida del Mar. The morning Pacific was calm, with the sun rising beyond the horizon painting the sea surface gold. Several blue herons stood on the beach as if waiting for dawn, gracefully taking flight in surprise at my footsteps.
I had breakfast at “Costa Bella,” a café along the coast. From the terrace seating, the Pacific stretched to the horizon, and sea breezes caressed my cheeks. I ordered scrambled eggs made with locally caught sea urchin (erizo). The rich sea urchin flavor and the eggs’ mellowness matched exquisitely, allowing me to fully taste the ocean’s bounty. Drinking warm café con leche while quietly reflecting on the experiences of these past two days.
Around 9 AM, I packed and checked out of the hotel. With about three hours until the bus departure, I decided to explore places I hadn’t yet visited. First, I headed to the Archaeological Museum in the city. It displays pottery and ornaments excavated from ruins of the indigenous Diaguita people who lived in this region.
Particularly impressive were the painted pottery vessels with geometric patterns. The Diaguita people had built an advanced civilization in this arid land more than 1,000 years ago. The same starry sky they saw, the same coastline—I was experiencing these across time. I felt deep emotion at this continuity.
After the museum, I went to the central market where locals gathered. It was a space where La Serena’s daily life was condensed: seafood, vegetables, fruits, and even handicrafts. In one corner of the market, an elderly woman was selling hand-woven alpaca sweaters. Conversing with her in broken Spanish, I purchased one sweater with beautiful geometric patterns. “This was woven by my daughter. Alpaca wool is warm and will last a lifetime,” she said proudly, her smile deeply etching itself into my travel memories.
For lunch, I had my final meal in this land at “Marisquería El Ancla,” beloved by locals. Mariscada (seafood tomato stew), a northern Chilean specialty, was a fisherman’s dish with mussels, scallops, shrimp, and other seafood simmered slowly in a tomato-based soup. The soup, into which each seafood’s umami had dissolved, was the very essence of La Serena’s ocean bounty.
After finishing the meal, I walked through Plaza de Armas one last time. My feelings toward this place were completely different from when I first set foot here two days ago. The square that had been unfamiliar territory now felt somewhat familiar. The fountain’s water sounds, the wind rustling palm leaves, and people’s gentle conversation—all of these would remain as memories of this land called La Serena.
At 1 PM, I arrived at the bus terminal. Boarding the Santiago-bound bus, I recalled the faces of people I had met during these three days. Carlos from the restaurant, Pablo the astronomy guide, María from the picantería, and the elderly woman at the market. Their warmth had made this journey special.
As the bus began moving, La Serena’s townscape flowed past the windows. White-walled houses, the blue sea, and mountains visible in the distance. Eventually, the town grew smaller, and brown earth began to dominate the windows again. But in my heart, the tranquility and fulfillment I had felt in this land remained firmly planted.
The three days spent at the edge of the Atacama Desert were irreplaceable time for stepping away from urban clamor and reexamining the fundamental relationship between nature and human activity. The cosmic expanse felt under the starry sky and the daily warmth touched in the market—perhaps this contrast is the very charm of a place called La Serena.
Closing
These three days in La Serena represent an imaginary journey created by AI. However, the landscape descriptions, human encounters, and flavors of cuisine woven into this narrative are based on the real charms of La Serena. Northern Chile’s dry air, sunsets over the Pacific, night skies where the Southern Cross shines, and above all, the warmth of people—all of these are carved deep in memory as travel recollections that feel real despite being imaginary.
Perhaps travel is not just about visiting new places, but about surrendering oneself to the flow of time that a place possesses, and reexamining oneself within rhythms different from daily life. The time spent in La Serena, even though imaginary, became a precious experience that reminded me of travel’s essence. Should the day come when I actually visit this land, these imaginary memories and real experiences will beautifully overlap.
