Lush, green grape vines, neatly trellised in cross-directional rows, cut through the landscape. The sun slouched and cast a dim orange hue over the loose soil. Beyond, the snow-capped Andes framed the idyllic view.
It should be beautiful, but it’s not – there’s an unmistakable feeling of desolation in the air.
The soil is dry, cracked and studded with rocks. Sparse grass growing in between the rows resembled a bed of straw. And the only thing that took my breath away was the wind, which threatened to steal my hat at any given opportunity.