My head was leaning against the warm window when I awoke. I blinked rapidly and stretched before looking outside. We were traveling through low, rolling hills. They were covered with dried grass that was so golden I had to squint. Occasionally, a sad looking tree could be seen topping one of the bright crests. In the distance, I could see groves of evenly spaced olive trees. The foliage along the road was abundant by comparison, though still desiccated in appearance. The bus windows were closed, on account of the air conditioning, but I could imagine the smell of the landscape.