I'm Matthew Pinsent, you're Sir Steven Redgrave...

Ignore the last sentence of the previous blog. Our combined restlessness left us on the horns of a dilemma - painful. With so many amazing things to see and do we're finding it really difficult to commit to being in just one place for any length of time. Granada has truly been a fantastic place to see. We hitch-hiked to the crater lake of Laguna Apoyo with Horus Heavens and his girlfriend Amber, whizzing down the valley in the back of pickup trucks towards the cool waters and drunk people at the lakeside. Next day we daytripped to the bustling market town of Masaya - perhaps the only place on earth where you can buy a whole pig's head at one stall, and Christmas decorations at the very next. We really explored the city and it's been wonderful to be there for a few days.

During that time we found that using the Nicaraguan buses is an experience in itself. The bus stops are a very intense and noisy place. It seems to be a heavily competitive industry, bus drivers arguing over who gets to take you to your destination. The bus driver's assistants are constantly shouting place names: Managua and Granada become ¨Manawamanawamanawa¨ and Granaragranaragranara¨ respectively. They barely stop, as the assistants push you by your ass onto the old yellow schoolbuses. If your bag (or indeed your ass) is too big for the back of the bus, it'll be thrown on the roof with the tyres and bicycles. Chicken buses, Nicaraguan style!

Our explorations of Granada have uncovered a few amazing buildings: in the north of the town lies Fortaleza La Polvora, which is a beautifully maintained old lookout and prison, where we climbed the turrets and strolled the gardens. There is also an amazing old hospital, San Juan del Dios, where we walked through the ruins and Rachel went slightly dizzy with her camera. There we met the old security guard who showed us the morgue, children's unit, and maternity ward. He then clutched his stomach saying he was hungry. Found it disconcerting when a man with a uniform, handcuffs and a nightstick begs you for money (although that's a standard Saturday night for Woody). It really shows the poverty level of the country, especially when you think that the average monthly wage is $100 - a figure that some people would piss away after work on a Friday. With that in mind, we went and bought the guard a bag of oranges and a hand of plantains, thinking he could at least take them home to his family. But when we returned he had mysteriously disappeared altogether...

Bus-taxi-boat-bus-bus brings us to the volcanic island of Ometepe, in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. The best way to see around the island is by canoe, Rachel's extremely childish and immature jokes about 'coxless pairs' aside... We paddled to the Rio Istian, which is a swampy river lying on the isthmus of the island. We gently cruised through the mangroves, seeing loads of different birds, insects and the odd swish in the water, which we think were caiman crocs. The only sounds were those of our paddles as we stealthily drifted with the current, quietly observing our natural surroundings. Where better, then, to re-create the epic Olympic effort of our gold medal winning rowers of years gone by? Plenty of strange looks from the women washing their clothes on the stones in the river, and the odd admiring glance from the men wading with their fish nets (again, a standard Saturday night for Woody).

We spent the day paddling, visiting Monkey Island where little capuchins and spider monkeys stare at you from the branches as you coast round. Drifting on Lake Nicaragua, the two huge volcanoes on either side, blue sky and scorching sun above, and monkeys swinging and playing only feet away. Life is good...