The world's largest salt flat, "Salar de Uyuni," boasts the dreamlike beauty of a "mirror to the sky."

Text and photos by /Excerpted from *I Went to the Andes for a Bit: Xie Xin’s Journey Through South America* by Xie Xin, published by Siku Yu Cultural Creatives

Uyuni Water Chase Trilogy I – Sunset & Stargazing Tour by team member Hua’an

The first water-chasing tour in Uyuni—the sunset and stargazing combo—is set to kick off this evening. One of the girls said her stomach felt a bit off, but she’d just go back to the room and take some medicine.

Busy shopping for souvenirs, I didn’t think much of it—after all, she’s always had a sensitive stomach, and a little medicine would fix something so minor. I carefully searched for postcards of the Mirror of Heaven, but oddly enough, even though we were right in Uyuni, I couldn’t find any with the Mirror of Heaven on them. There were two postcards of the Bolivian president, though—that’s the one who got caught watching porn too loudly in parliament, then dropped his phone and let the whole world hear him scream.

And there were actually two different expressions and poses on these totally unsellable postcards?! While I was wondering “who would even buy these,” the girl had already picked one up to pay for it, planning to send it to a friend who collects scenic postcards from around the world, all while snickering at the checkout. The hotel was close to the water-chasing tour meeting point. At 4:50 p.m., after packing snacks for the whole night, the girl swallowed two stomach pills, and we set off on foot.

We made a brief stop midway to the salt flat. There were plenty of rain boots to choose from in the local homes. The girl picked out a pair of red ones that didn’t quite fit, then kept complaining the whole way about why they didn’t have her favorite peach pink.

“Whose phone are we using to play music?” our driver, Lai Zi, asked us on the way to the salt flat. Sitting in the front, I immediately queued up a song by Tamura Sumi—*Let’s Drink*. The Japanese friends in the back immediately gasped in surprise. They must’ve never expected to hear this classic Japanese hit in the Uyuni Salt Flats, nearly 20,000 kilometers from home. And I was pretty pleased with the effect.

I can’t even remember when Lai Zi skillfully plugged in his own phone’s audio cable and started playing songs full of strong Bolivian folk flavor. It must’ve been when we entered the salt flat’s water-accumulated area. The car slowed down, circling around the salty water again and again, as if searching for something it couldn’t find. “They’re not looking for water, are they?” I worried, glancing outside—the water wasn’t much. The drivers in our convoy discussed it several times, got out to scout locations, relocated, and finally found a spot they thought was okay, though I thought it was just meh, and let us out.

The Uyuni Salt Flats are the highest and largest salt lake in the world. I knew that getting the perfect Mirror of Heaven shot here relied on luck—the ground needed a certain depth of water, but it couldn’t rain that day—so we could only come during the rainy season.

Then the most important thing is no wind. Even a slight breeze would ripple the water surface, ruining the mirror effect and making reflections impossible. That was my biggest concern as the designated photographer. “Everyone must be worried,” I turned to look at the girls—but while I was fretting, they were sharing a chocolate biscuit and munching away happily.

The girl probably didn’t quite get terms like reflection, lighting, or cluttered background. She kept telling me to “speak Chinese”—come on, I was speaking Chinese. After aimlessly splashing around in the water for a bit, we spotted another, better spot in the distance where the photos might turn out nicer. I have no idea why Lai Zi kept refusing to take us there—it was probably pride. I figured. The girls negotiated with him for ages before he finally gave in and drove us to another water-accumulated area, not without throwing in a warning: “Once we come here, there’s no going back to the previous spot. You’re on your own.” Stuff like that to dissuade us.

Thankfully, we pushed the driver—because the second water zone was way. Better. Than the first. So. Much. Even though there were more people (duh, this spot’s prettier!), just adjusting the angle slightly could yield great shots and reflections. The wind was still a bit strong, but to me, the scene was already a solid win.

Standing in this Uyuni, which we’d traveled so far to reach. The sun was about to set. I wandered through the water, watching the slowly descending orange glow, my oversized red boots splashing through the puddles, *plop plop* as water droplets flew everywhere, while the wind kept blowing. The sky shifted from light blue to gray-blue, the afterglow of the sunset still lingering, while the moon slowly rose.

The sun completely disappeared below the horizon. Everything grew quiet and dark. We munched on snacks in the car, resting a little. Slowly, the sky began to sparkle. I gripped the car handle, leaned my body out the window, and the moment I looked up, I let out an exclamation: “Wow. This is the Milky Way. Incredible.” This was the first time I’d ever seen it in person. The stars were so bright, their light so clear, it left no room for doubt.

A few particularly bright stars shimmered like ripples on a river, twinkling nonstop. The starry sky over Uyuni was unbelievably beautiful.

One of the girls asked, “Is that the brightest one the North Star?” No one knew, so no one answered. The girl said, “Star names don’t matter. As long as they shine, that’s enough.”

We just stayed there quietly, gazing upward. No conversation, because we didn’t want to disturb the night sky’s countless stars. Their twinkling was like a soft whisper. No interaction, because we just wanted to keep listening.