Is that a Salsa, or a Merengue? No you're right - it's a Salsa...

With so much music and passion in the air here in San Juan del Sur, me and Woody decided to 'get our gay on' and make a bold foray into the world of Latin dancing - the learning thereof. This began as we peeked our heads round the door of an empty Nicaraguan bar which looked like it was closing up for the night. "Salsa lessons?"....."Oh, yeah, well we were just closing up for the night but yeah, go on then". Tables were quickly moved to one side, as me and Woody stood making shifty eyes at each other on the makeshift dancefloor. Our instructors, a huge Nicarag-man and a tiny little American girl, proceeded then to argue about how best to teach us the intricacies and finer points of this fusion of a dance...

To me there seemed to be a lot of step forward, step back - moves I executed with the precision and co-ordination of a tranquilized monkey, all the while looking at my trusty sidekick for guidance. Fleet-footed and dainty, she skipped around the place to the rythm of the music with a huge smile on her face. Alesha Dixon eat your heart out. So after an awkward half hour of what you might call 'salsa' (if you had no notion of what salsa, or dancing, or indeed rythm was. And if you were visually impaired) we moved onto the Merengue. As my mouth watered at the prospect of a sweet delight made of whipped egg whites and sugar, the music started and our instructors, guided by the bar staff and generally any Nicaraguan with a passing interest showed us how to Merengue. It seemed that the only difference between Salsa and Merengue is that our teachers just argue less when it's Merengue. Me and Woody were really just waiting for the bell to go so we could unleash our dancing on the streets of San Juan del Sur.

We retreated to The Pier, a bar where a few nights previous we'd been with Kiwi couples Tony 'n' Rachel, and Jeff 'n' Kat. It was a fantastic full moon party with a beach bonfire and more rum and cokes than you can drunkenly shake a stick at. The night was filled with great chat, mostly revolving around great Kiwis - Jonah Lomu, Neil Finn of Crowded House, and 'double All-Black' Jeff Wilson - each accompanied by an enthusiastic but wholly inaccurate New Zealand accent. The resultant mess was a strange and severe fuzzy-headed sensation, all preceded by an airborne Woodward falling from the skies in an alcohol fuelled attempt to reach the bathroom from the top bunk in record time... Her bruised legs and foot tell the story better than I can.

The beaches in San Juan del Sur are phenomenal, the blistering sun and perfect Pacific waves drawing crowds of surfers. With the spirit of Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze in our hearts we hired a board and headed for the Point Break. There began a day of popping-up, dropping-in, and generally hanging loose. All in all it was a successful day, I think most of what we did counts as surfing in one way or another...

We had a very interesting morning today. A few days ago we met an old Californian lady called BJ who was out walking her pet spider monkey. As we approached her, the monkey took our hands and jumped around, pulling packets of crisps and sweets off the shelves of a nearby shop, climbing the doorframe and tormenting the owner's puppy. Rachel saw a fantastic opportunity to make a photographic portrait of this amazing looking woman with her pet. She invited us to her house this morning and told us stories as the monkey clambered all over her, the house, and us. Snap happy, Woody took hundreds of photographs as me and the monkey climbed a tree and hung around. Cue jokes about monkey business, monkeying around. I'd like to point out there was absolutely no spanking of the monkey. Good times...