From the air, wherever there is bare land, or not green at any rate, there are strange patterns impressed in the land. Valleys and hills, one assumes, but they look more like cloud shadows, or tree shapes, ferns and foliage. It’s as though the land has been branded some time ago and the burnt patches still remain but the years and the rain have softened the edges a little.

Or perhaps the whole country is wearing a mantilla, but an old, worn one.