Finally we leave Costa Rica behind us and fly down to the Panama; towards the place famous for its Canal, its hats, its cigars, it’s the Papers.
Although first we had to make it off the Costa Rican Osa Peninsular to get back to the capital city of San Jose. An ickle 12-seater plane was to be our carrier and as you may know, I ain’t good on airplane flights at the bestest of times. Not only that but the size of the plane I’m due to fly on is invariably of inverse ratio to my panic mode quotient. So a 12-seater single propeller plane that looked like it used to have a large elastic band down its middle to initiate take off means tears, white knuckles, and involuntarily head bobbing from yours truly. Bless him, Stu chats to me during any flight to calm my nerves but even he struggled with small talk when I’m only a brief turbulence drop away from a hair-raising scream and jumping out the window.
Luckily I had packed some diazepam so at least I made it on board.
As it turned out the flight was actually fairly up until the last 10 minutes when our little plane started jumping around like a washing machine on the fritz. Yes, there were tears. And gasps. But as we bumped along the runway having finally landed I felt immense relief I’d not started a on-board fist-fight, kissed the pilot, or spontaneous combusted.
The onward flight to Panama was relatively calm by comparison - not doubt ably helped by the four beers we had at San Jose aeropuerto to further calm any nerves.
Once landed, and after a bit of confusion at Panama airport (not us, our guide), we settled into our hotel in Panama City Old Town.
From the brief look of it, Panama City seems a rather high-rise sort of place.
We decided on an early night preparing ourselves for what we had planned for tomorrow.
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