Changing gear

   Somewhere, possibly in San Jose, we realised that we were tired.  I think it was the sail boat in the San Blas islands that ruined us and so it was that we reached Granada, the colonial jewel of Nicaragua (indeed all of Central America) apathetic and uninspired.

   We had chosen our hostel on the sole basis that it had a pool and even moving away from that welcome cool refuge took more willpower than either of us wished to deploy.  Nevertheless, feeling guilty at the time and experiences slipping away from us we ventured into the dusty streets of frankly second-string architectural stylings.  After moderate disappointment and complete listlessness in the face of it, we spotted a cafe set back in a nice private courtyard.  We realised that perhaps the beauty of Granada was not to be enjoyed by freeloaders but only truly experienced through the medium of trade.

   Well, this was a revelation to us.  I would love to say that after that Granada opened its doors and dazzled us with its charms.  Sadly, it did not.  It remained a fairly dull and uninspiring city with an inexplicable draw on tourists.  Instead we rediscovered the pleasures of sitting and eating, two things that we had very much neglected up to this point.

   Our energy levels soared, high quality deserts will do that to you, and we found a new love for travelling in places where eating out is still pretty cheap.  We resolved to sideline worthier pursuits and "doing things" and focus instead on eating things.  So over the following two weeks we sampled brownies and ice cream in Granada; hunted down apple pie and hot chocolate in Leon; immersed ourselves in real cheese (oh how we have missed you) fondue on Lago de Atitlan; and dined on French cuisine and fine wine in Antigua.

   It was marvellous.  More than that it was restorative.  It made rainy afternoons into an opportunity.   It was certainly more bloody successful than trying to climb volcanoes.