"Propina voluntario" Aye, you're at it sunshine...

We quit San Juan del Sur in high spirits having soaked up a load of sun, surf and cerveza. Trucking on back up the road to Granada like a couple of seasoned pros, batting taxi drivers away right, left and centre like an old episode of Batman - BOFF! POW! SOK! KABLAM!

The thing with the taxi drivers is that they're so flippin' persistent. First there's the obligatory "Taxi, chico?"/ "No gracias" encounter. At which point instead of leaving well alone they start to reel off a list of possible destinations "Rivas, Frontera, Remanso, Maderas..." as if by doing this somehow you'll change your mind: "Oh, well I only said 'no' because I'd never dreamed you'd take me all the way to Rivas. Now that you've confirmed that as one of many potential destinations, I change my answer - and I change it to an emphatic 'yes!'" These exchanges can prove to be tiresome, especially when you have to pass the same taxi driver twice in as many minutes because you were only going out to buy a bottle of water. At one point I became sure that one guy was just asking us to wind me up, every time with a smile on his cheeky little face and a brand new list of destinations. When he asked us on our last day, revenge was served cold as we pointed to the bus with our own cheeky smiles. Take THAT, taxi man!

The Nicaraguan buses became a hugely enjoyable experience as soon as we worked them out. Crowded, noisy and uncomfortable we grew to love the chickenbuses and their strange charm. There is no such thing as a 'full bus' as we found on our way to the border. Over 100 people were crammed on this bus, as well as a 5ft high Winnie the Pooh pinata, and a sleepy man with a few hundred bags of candy floss on a stick which landed on my head everytime he nodded off. Woody was in hysterics, as was half the bus (it was great, my hair smelled delicious). There was also an old lady whose chest was just at the right height for Woody to rest her sleepy little head on. Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow as they say...

Best thing about the buses is that it's impossible to miss one. On several occassions, we've been ambling along, a good two streets and a few corners away from our bus, only for the driver's assistant to come puffing down the road: "Rivasrivasrivas?" before ushering us through the crowds and on to the back of the bus. It's as if they have a Spidey-sense for dawdling tourists. Hats off to the bus men, they work hard and make you feel like the luckiest travellers in the country.

Before this, our last day in Granada I think was our best. We visited Dona Elba Cigars and were lucky enough to meet the owner. The cigar workshop is in his beautiful old colonial house - it's a completely tranquil place, with tobacco leaves drying in the garden and the only sound coming from the rolling of cigars. He even let us have a go, rolling, cutting and pressing our own cigars. He also dug us out a spare Verdadero Organic, which at one time was the number one cigar in the world (not in sales, but in quality - apparently there's even a league table for that!) So we sat smoking our cigars in his amazing walled garden as he told us about his family, his upbringing and his dreams for Granada. Sr. Reyes is a very positive man, his pride for his hometown and his country shine through in the way he speaks. He stands against the Nicaraguan idea of relying on handouts, instead insisting that they do it for themselves, working hard to achieve the things they want. Maybe that's easier said than done, but he believes it and talks with such passion that it's difficult not to get on board. He also has a parrot.

That afternoon we went to a mosaic class which was great fun. Me and Woody sat like a couple of schoolkids in the instructor's open-air kitchen as she baked cakes and her children played in the garden. We were surrounded by paintings and sculptures in this exquisite colonial courtyard as we quietly cut our tiles and glued them down. This kind of quiet activity and the smell of chocolate cake filled the air, bringing back memories of doing various crafts in family kitchens as youngsters. It was all Woody could do not to start eating the glue, and I think in my creative daze I almost called the instructor 'mum'.

We headed out that evening to have a wee meal and a few Victoria Frosts to say a fond farewell to Nicaragua. Despite knowing that we had to be up at 5am the next morning for our border bus, we had one too many with our new friend Spencer - a Beatles nut from L.A. Trying to walk over the Nicaraguan border with our packs, the heat and a slow-burner of a hangover is not to be recommended...

As soon as we got off the bus at the border, the scammers tried to get their hooks in - 'selling' you immigration forms, guiding you along for a 'propina voluntario' (a voluntary tip, which doesn't seem to be very voluntary) and generally trying to squeeze every last Cordoba out of you. Luckily our Kiwi friend Jeff had given us prior warning, so with steely gazes and confident steps we battled on through the scammers. I had just bought a new pair of sunglasses so my steely gaze was probably at an all time high. After one scam attempt too many, young Woody had enough and proceeded to give one unlucky soul a telling off. He shuffled his feet nervously, looking like a chastized child. Although I had also been fixing him with my steely gaze at the same time, so who knows...

So here we are back in Costa Rica, and the familiar sights, sounds and smells thereof. I think one of the most familiar things about being back here is the pocket change, and how cumbersome it is. For example the 500 Colones piece - worth about 50p, it looks and feels like a huge gold dubloon . When your shorts are a little on the loose side you can imagine how inconvenient it is to have two kilos of metal in your pocket that's only worth about 3 quid.

Our first stop this side of the border was Liberia (although no sign of Georgie Weah, world footballer of the year 1995). We visited an old, deserted prison there, which spookily had blood spatters on the walls and bats in the solitary confinement cells. Liberia is a very Western looking city, so we stayed a night then headed to the beautiful beach of Playa Hermosa - sunsets, big waves and a relaxed atmosphere. Currently we're staying in a little apartment in Playa del Coco run by a kind-hearted lady called Olga. 36 degrees outside - no sign of winter yet...