As the dust and sand had settled upon our entrance, I was greeted by some of the nicest staff I’d ever come across. Alto Atacama was just over an hour from the Calama Airport near the quaint town of San Pedro de Atacama, and with the help of the copious water bottles by my side, I started salivating over the scenery along the drive. Upon climbing into my getaway van after a safe touch down, I knew I was in for a luxurious kind of adventure. I couldn’t tell if I was nervous of plummeting to the arid earth or if my basic instinct for thirst was overreacting due to a soon deployment upon the driest of lands. As we dropped in altitude, so did my mouth of moisture. Among these massive windmills lay an ever expansive view of reddish brown dirt, sand and salt accompanied by jagged mountains in the distance. My breakout of cold sweat and fear was met with a field of windmills generating power for the surrounding cities. As my plane began its decent into the desert, I sat paralyzed in my window seat, partly because the mountainous landscape was causing horrific turbulence and partly due to the scene playing outside my window.
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