A Tourist in (Chilean) Wine Country
On my return home from a mind-blowing trip to Antarctica, I found myself in Santiago, Chile with an unexpected 24-hour layover due to a missed flight. As a generally “silver lining” kind of person, I decided to use the extra time to visit the Maipo Valley and see the Chilean version of wine country.
Having lived most of my life in places others consider destinations (Nashville, San Francisco, and now Calistoga), it’s always interesting to experience places locals might label “touristy.” I tend to seek out spots that feel a little off the beaten path — places a local might take visiting friends or family, like Lola, with its unique single-varietal wines and thoughtful food pairings. With that mindset, I skipped over Concha y Toro and looked for a winery I hadn’t seen widely represented in the U.S. After some research, I chose Viña Cousiño Macul. Founded in 1856 and one of the early producers of Carménère in Chile, it felt like a winery with deep roots and an interesting history.
I took an Uber from my airport hotel to Viña Cousiño Macul for a vineyard tour and tasting. Upon arrival, I quickly realized I had chosen a very well-known destination — something like Napa Valley’s more commercialized estates, like Castello di Amorosa or Sterling Vineyards.
Setting aside my assumptions, I joined the group tour alongside dozens of other visitors. I’ll admit my expectations were modest, and I questioned my choice, but since I only had one day, I thought I would give it a chance.
What followed was a genuinely wonderful 90 minutes. Our guide, Sofia, led us through the history of this seventh-generation, family-owned winery, weaving in thoughtful discussion about climate change and advances in oenology. Touring the hand-dug underground cellars was remarkable, and learning about Isidora Goyenechea — one of Chile’s first prominent female business owners in the late 1800s — was particularly meaningful. She was known not only for her business acumen but also for improving living conditions for vineyard workers and fostering empathy and compassion during a time when labor practices were often harsh and unregulated.
On my way back to the airport, I found myself reflecting on my own long-held assumptions about my hometowns. I never visited Music Row when I lived in Nashville, or Fisherman’s Wharf while in San Francisco. When friends and family suggested those iconic spots, I often brushed them aside. Returning now to Napa Valley, I feel more open — to riding the Wine Train, booking a hot-air balloon ride, or visiting “the castle.”
The hidden, lesser-known corners of our valley will always hold a special place in my heart, and I’ll continue to encourage visitors to explore historic gems like Storybook Mountain Vineyards or newer, interesting wineries like Lola. But I also better understand why people are drawn to places like Sterling or Castello. Sometimes the most well-known destinations still have stories worth hearing — if we’re willing to put aside our assumptions and listen.
