Prague → Paris
It was an early start on April 1st. I flew out of Prague at 6:30 with Air France and the first leg of the journey was a pleasant surprise. The 2-3 seat configuration offered unexpectedly generous space — on a short hop across Europe, you can't ask for much more. The snack was modest, but for that level of comfort, Air France gets a pass.
Five hours in terminal 2E-K
The real test of patience came in Paris. Five hours in terminal 2E-K reminded me how relative time can be. On one side, tech oases with PlayStation 5 and the nostalgia of arcade machines; on the other, the claustrophobia of a small space. The urge to explore the rest of the airport dissolved at the prospect of another security check. Dubai or Doha, European airports simply cannot compete on this front.
Eleven hours over the Atlantic
Then came the main event — an eleven-hour flight in an Airbus A350-900. The 3-3-3 configuration was comfortable even in economy, but what really got me was the atmosphere. The cabin had a relaxed, almost family chaos to it — kids wandering freely in the aisles and nobody telling them off.
The food was excellent — from the full menu at the start to the lighter service before landing. But the biggest game changer? A few hours in, a self-service bar opened at the back of the plane. Free drinks, sandwiches, and snacks turned a long flight into something more like a social event than an endurance session. Being able to just get up and grab what you fancy lifts the whole experience up a level.
San José — finally
After twenty-one hours of travel, San José welcomed me. I landed at five in the afternoon and April 1st became my longest day of the year. But the adventure wasn't over.
Uber in the grey zone
Three kilometres to the hotel — and an immediate lesson in local folklore. Uber operates in a grey zone in Costa Rica, technically banned at the airport. I tried anyway. I climbed from arrivals up to departures and across the car park, looking for my ride. When I waved at the driver, he just curtly said "no" and disappeared. The nearby police patrols probably had something to do with it.
A minute later, a message pinged: "Can you walk further to the intersection?"
San José airport is thankfully small. Three minutes of brisk walking and I found my driver just past the exit bend. When I got in, he was clearly more nervous than me — the sight of a hundred-kilo European moving confidently through their "forbidden zone" had thrown him a bit. In the end he drove me to the hotel without a hitch for 3,000 CRC.
Fear usually has big eyes. You just have to get in the car.
