We left you in the gazebo, and this latest episode is written from there.
Yesterday, having departed the gazebo we were driven into town for lunch, which turned out to be an unexpectedly delicious falafel sandwich washed down with a beer (and an ice-cream) to steady our nerves.
And our nerves certainly needed to be steadied when we were picked up by Franklin, the guy who was to take us horseriding. He arrived at the appointed spot in a pick-up truck. We looked bemused and asked whether we should go in the back of the truck (albeit there was no seating). He looked horrified, pointed to the nearby police who he said would object to this, and told us that we should both hop in the front. Layla and I have not got slenderer over the years of our adventuring, but I rather think it would have been a struggle at any point to fit the two of us into one seat. Nevertheless, without any other immediately obvious option, in we both squashed. As we drove along, Franklin asked a series of questions which brought terror to our hearts. "Which of us", he enquired, "was the more experienced with horses?" "What kind of style of riding did we prefer?" (The answer to this question did not seem to be "one that doesn't entail me falling off".) The drive turned out to be quite long, all the while Layla was mushed up against the car door (which I feared would fall open) whilst I gained a closer acquaintance with a gear stick than I had ever anticipated / hoped. Confidence had not been instilled in me.
After some time, we arrived at a ramshackle shed in a woebegone paddock, where a few horses (admittedly not particularly dangerous looking!) ambled around. I took the opportunity to phone Randy, who owns the plantation that we are staying on and who had organised the trip, to check he'd sent beginners there before. "Don't worry", he said, "I've sent a 75 year old beginner there before: you'll have a brilliant time". And so, notwithstanding hesitations, we approached the horses and got ready to trek. To be fair, the horses turned out to be very nice-natured, even if no-one was in any doubt as to who was in charge. And they both endeared themselves to us as we went along by their constant enthusiasm for eating: we were reminded of ourselves. The route, also, was lovely, going up through the hills to a peak, from which you could just about see the sea. The landscape was an odd combination of almost rolling English hills, palm trees and gently running streams. We both felt beautifully (if entirely unjustifiably) intrepid as we crossed streams. I can't say that Franklin particularly endeared himself to me, though his valiant efforts to persuade Layla not to sit like a sack of potatoes was only to be admired. And he didn't laugh when Layla shrieked when her horse went off at a mild gallop, which was clearly very restrained of him.
Back in the paddock, Layla and I gazed without enthusiasm at the pick-up truck - our only means of getting home. But we managed to arrange ourselves slightly better this time around - Layla got friendly with the gear stick whilst I held the car door shut - and approved of Franklin's taste in music. He'd not immediately seemed like a Nina Simone kind of guy. Deposited back in town, although still far from our plantation, we felt a little forlorn (it was raining and I'd banged my knee hard on a post that my horse had passed with a little too much enthusiasm). But the ever-obliging Randy came to get us and our mood lifted appreciably after a quick shower.
We were off to what's thought of as the best restaurant in the area - the Rock. It turned out to be a very pretty place, just by a river. The food was pretty fabulous - especially our starters (I had pumpkin and coffee soup, which was just remarkable, whilst Layla loved her three onion soup). But that won't be the only reason why we remember the night. It turned out that a new musical family had moved to town, and that a concert had been put on (by them) - organised by a friend who seems to be something of a big name in the Boquete music pool. Think Family von Trappe. Only with a mother who isn't actually that good (and who had authored some horrific songs - "We're blessed" being a particular highlight) and a very over-enthusiastic father. In fairness, the daughter was in fact very good (so far as we are able to judge these things) and the whole evening very pleasant, if it did feel as though we'd gate-crashed a private party. Though I suspect that the Panamanian family who were the only other attendees not in some way linked to the ex-pat community which was otherwise out in full force, felt that even more than us.
We got back home just in time to sit on the steps of our flat and watch an amazing thunder-storm over the other side of the valley. The sky was just amazing and we had a great time trying (and failing) to take pictures of it.
Having had another delicious breakfast this morning (delivered to our room, as always!), we went out for a hike through a nearby rainforest - 2000 feet up from where we are now. It's always lovely to do this kind of thing, and I think we both enjoyed it all the more for being without a guide. Well, that is, until I saw a snake at which point I remembered the excellence of having a guide / boy around who you can look to for defence.... The hike took us past rivers and up to a waterfall. We'd brought bottled water with us, and only realised as we sipped it that in fact the water came from the very river we were walking past. Strangely pleasing.
Back at the start of the hike, we read our books whilst waiting for a bus. When it appeared, it drove us with considerable enthusiasm down to Boquete. Indeed the bus's speed (going down several thousand feet) was such that Layla's ears popped. On getting off the bus she looked as if she'd just experienced an emergency landing from a plane and staggered around. I tried hard not to laugh...
Fortunately I was distracted from laughing by the need for what was an overdue lunch. We considered a few options, and then headed back to the falafel place of yesterday - it was just so good. And now we have spent a pleasant afternoon on hammocks, with books. In fact, in exactly the same place we were when we left you last time. But tomorrow, we're off back to Panama City...
Yesterday, having departed the gazebo we were driven into town for lunch, which turned out to be an unexpectedly delicious falafel sandwich washed down with a beer (and an ice-cream) to steady our nerves.
And our nerves certainly needed to be steadied when we were picked up by Franklin, the guy who was to take us horseriding. He arrived at the appointed spot in a pick-up truck. We looked bemused and asked whether we should go in the back of the truck (albeit there was no seating). He looked horrified, pointed to the nearby police who he said would object to this, and told us that we should both hop in the front. Layla and I have not got slenderer over the years of our adventuring, but I rather think it would have been a struggle at any point to fit the two of us into one seat. Nevertheless, without any other immediately obvious option, in we both squashed. As we drove along, Franklin asked a series of questions which brought terror to our hearts. "Which of us", he enquired, "was the more experienced with horses?" "What kind of style of riding did we prefer?" (The answer to this question did not seem to be "one that doesn't entail me falling off".) The drive turned out to be quite long, all the while Layla was mushed up against the car door (which I feared would fall open) whilst I gained a closer acquaintance with a gear stick than I had ever anticipated / hoped. Confidence had not been instilled in me.
After some time, we arrived at a ramshackle shed in a woebegone paddock, where a few horses (admittedly not particularly dangerous looking!) ambled around. I took the opportunity to phone Randy, who owns the plantation that we are staying on and who had organised the trip, to check he'd sent beginners there before. "Don't worry", he said, "I've sent a 75 year old beginner there before: you'll have a brilliant time". And so, notwithstanding hesitations, we approached the horses and got ready to trek. To be fair, the horses turned out to be very nice-natured, even if no-one was in any doubt as to who was in charge. And they both endeared themselves to us as we went along by their constant enthusiasm for eating: we were reminded of ourselves. The route, also, was lovely, going up through the hills to a peak, from which you could just about see the sea. The landscape was an odd combination of almost rolling English hills, palm trees and gently running streams. We both felt beautifully (if entirely unjustifiably) intrepid as we crossed streams. I can't say that Franklin particularly endeared himself to me, though his valiant efforts to persuade Layla not to sit like a sack of potatoes was only to be admired. And he didn't laugh when Layla shrieked when her horse went off at a mild gallop, which was clearly very restrained of him.
Back in the paddock, Layla and I gazed without enthusiasm at the pick-up truck - our only means of getting home. But we managed to arrange ourselves slightly better this time around - Layla got friendly with the gear stick whilst I held the car door shut - and approved of Franklin's taste in music. He'd not immediately seemed like a Nina Simone kind of guy. Deposited back in town, although still far from our plantation, we felt a little forlorn (it was raining and I'd banged my knee hard on a post that my horse had passed with a little too much enthusiasm). But the ever-obliging Randy came to get us and our mood lifted appreciably after a quick shower.
We were off to what's thought of as the best restaurant in the area - the Rock. It turned out to be a very pretty place, just by a river. The food was pretty fabulous - especially our starters (I had pumpkin and coffee soup, which was just remarkable, whilst Layla loved her three onion soup). But that won't be the only reason why we remember the night. It turned out that a new musical family had moved to town, and that a concert had been put on (by them) - organised by a friend who seems to be something of a big name in the Boquete music pool. Think Family von Trappe. Only with a mother who isn't actually that good (and who had authored some horrific songs - "We're blessed" being a particular highlight) and a very over-enthusiastic father. In fairness, the daughter was in fact very good (so far as we are able to judge these things) and the whole evening very pleasant, if it did feel as though we'd gate-crashed a private party. Though I suspect that the Panamanian family who were the only other attendees not in some way linked to the ex-pat community which was otherwise out in full force, felt that even more than us.
We got back home just in time to sit on the steps of our flat and watch an amazing thunder-storm over the other side of the valley. The sky was just amazing and we had a great time trying (and failing) to take pictures of it.
Having had another delicious breakfast this morning (delivered to our room, as always!), we went out for a hike through a nearby rainforest - 2000 feet up from where we are now. It's always lovely to do this kind of thing, and I think we both enjoyed it all the more for being without a guide. Well, that is, until I saw a snake at which point I remembered the excellence of having a guide / boy around who you can look to for defence.... The hike took us past rivers and up to a waterfall. We'd brought bottled water with us, and only realised as we sipped it that in fact the water came from the very river we were walking past. Strangely pleasing.
Back at the start of the hike, we read our books whilst waiting for a bus. When it appeared, it drove us with considerable enthusiasm down to Boquete. Indeed the bus's speed (going down several thousand feet) was such that Layla's ears popped. On getting off the bus she looked as if she'd just experienced an emergency landing from a plane and staggered around. I tried hard not to laugh...
Fortunately I was distracted from laughing by the need for what was an overdue lunch. We considered a few options, and then headed back to the falafel place of yesterday - it was just so good. And now we have spent a pleasant afternoon on hammocks, with books. In fact, in exactly the same place we were when we left you last time. But tomorrow, we're off back to Panama City...
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