The Place Where Joy Found Me

Jul 10
3 min read

Before traveling to Bolivia, I thought I knew what I was looking forward to. Like many travelers, I had a list.

The Uyuni Salt Flats. The Witches’ Market. The colorful lagoons. The flamingos. The endless mirror landscapes I had admired in photographs for years.

I imagined I would come home talking about the places.

Instead…

I came home remembering the people.

Standing on the Uyuni Salt Flats felt like standing inside the sky itself. There was no beginning. No end. Only light… water… and endless reflections stretching toward the horizon. It felt as though heaven had quietly touched the earth.

Yet whenever Bolivia comes back to me, it isn’t the landscape I remember first.

It’s the kindness.

After spending the morning exploring the endless salt flats, we climbed back into our vehicles and continued driving. Miles passed with nothing but white stretching in every direction. No buildings. No trees. Only an endless horizon where the sky seemed to melt into the earth.

Then, without saying much, our guides pulled over.

Waiting in the middle of nowhere was a beautifully arranged lunch beneath white umbrellas, complete with real plates, glassware, fresh food, and thoughtful little details everywhere. For a little while, the vast emptiness became our dining room.

I don’t remember exactly what we ate.

I remember the surprise.

The laughter.

The gratitude.

The feeling of being welcomed and genuinely cared for.

And just when we thought the day had already given us enough…

Out came a bright green dinosaur.

Within minutes, grown adults were pretending to run for their lives. Some pointed dramatically toward the sky while others laughed so hard they could barely stay in character. Then someone decided Catherine should cook all of us, and soon our entire Travel Lovers family had somehow squeezed into a giant cooking pot while she proudly stirred us with an oversized spoon.

The moment she said, “Yummy…”

we all screamed.

For a little while…

we simply became children again.

As evening approached, our guides surprised us once more. In the middle of the endless salt flats, they carefully arranged another table, this time with bottles of wine, local snacks, fresh fruit, cheese, crystal glasses, and everything needed to transform the salt flats into a sunset celebration.

Standing ankle-deep in the shallow water, each of us held a glass in our hands. We raised our glasses twice—first to the sunset, then to one another. For a brief moment, surrounded by endless reflections, it felt as though the whole world had become wonderfully still. It was simple. Joyful. Almost surreal.

Just when we thought the day couldn’t become any more beautiful…

Music drifted across the salt flats.

Our guide had picked up his guitar.

Soon we were singing.

Then dancing.

As the last light painted the sky with shades of gold and crimson, we joined hands and walked slowly across the shallow water toward the setting sun. Our arms rose and fell together. No choreography. No instructions. Only thirteen travel lovers sharing one beautiful moment beneath a sky that seemed almost too beautiful to belong to this world.

In that moment, we weren’t simply watching the sunset.

We were celebrating something much deeper—

the quiet miracle of finding one another.

I have a feeling that years from now, I won’t remember every hotel we stayed in or every meal we shared.

I’ll remember the moments that were never on the itinerary.

A shared lunch in the middle of nowhere.

A ridiculous dinosaur.

Catherine “cooking” all of us in a giant pot.

Music.

Dancing.

Hands reaching for one another beneath a Bolivian sunset.

Moments that remind us how joyful life can be.