You leave Cuba past the last of the whitewashed houses, and then the open countryside takes over. Fields, country tracks, very little traffic. The climbs and descents are gentle, but they go on all morning. So no, it isn’t flat.
You’ll be walking for about six hours. That’s long enough to find your rhythm, and long enough to feel the distance in your legs. When the sun is high there’s little shade to be found. You arrive in Alvito with tired calves and dust on your shoes. Behind you lies the land you’ve crossed: cork oaks scattered across the dry grass, and a sky that stretches all the way to the horizon.