Take Me To Granada..

I fell in love with Granada immediately. I have never been to a city quite like it. It is so magically beautiful, bright and colourful. The city is set against the large Volcano Mombacho, full of cobbled streets and horse drawn carriages with Latin American music playing from cafes. The majestic gold and red cathedral stands in the centre and colonial buildings surround the park square. Every house is painted a different colour and the magnificent doorways are works of art in themselves. Granada has a cared for beauty and vibrancy that I didn't quite find in Leon.

We are staying at the Bearded Monkey hostel, a bargain $5. It has large dorm rooms with rabbits and a kitten bouncing around the courtyard. Ava, Edie, Mia and I walked down the Calle La Calzada, lined with trees and restaurants spilling their tables out into the street. We ate fish burritos and drank mojitos before walking back, where I fell flat asleep on the bed. It had been a long day of buses to get all the way from Estelli in the North to here.

Back at the hostel, I witnessed my first tropical thunderous rainstorm, during which i witnessed several drunk australians naked wrestling in the downpour. Overnight the storm cut off the water supply. After a sweaty run to the lake I showered in a bucket. A first for me and something the staff found hilarious.

The girls and I went for breakfast in the Garden Cafe, a strong recommendation from guidebooks and a place that has increased my love of Granada tenfold. A beautiful courtyard bursting with plants takes the centre of a cafe filled with books, art, Latin music and delicious food. A heavenly breakfast of passion fruit smoothie and blueberry pancakes dripping with maple syrup, and I quickly forgot I had been eating rice and beans for weeks.

After wandering through the city, we took a boat tour to Las Isletas, made up of over 300 archipelagos with views of the volcano rising behind. One archipelago was full of monkeys who were well accustomed to posing for photos.

We came back at sunset, and went out for dinner at the most delicious Middle Eastern restaurant, Pita Pita - beef shwarma, hummus, tatziki and beautifully prepared salads. We spent the rest of the evening drinking at an Irish bar on the Calle La Calzida, watching an unreal break dancing performance. The girls have been wonderful company, so lovely and laid back, Edie especially doesn't realise how funny she is! They have left for San Juan del Sur today and I am staying in Granada for a little while longer as I am not quite ready to leave this stunning city just yet. San Juan is probably going to be my next stop so I will likely see the girls again!

I've had an incredibly self indulgent day. A yoga class followed by another amazing breakfast of coconut, pineapple and lime smoothie and avocado and poached eggs on toast, whilst reading my book at the Garden Cafe. I didn't want to risk taking my beloved kindle so I have taken to relying what I can find in hostel book swaps. At the moment I am reading a fantastic book called 'the pearl that broke its shell' by Nadia Hashimi, about women in Afghanistan. It is brilliant read for anyone looking for some inspiration.

I've had a full body deep tissue massage at Pure Spa and I'm back in the Garden Cafe eating muffins, reading and writing. This is where travelling solo comes into its own. No one to answer to, no compromise, just exactly what you want to do with your day, one day at a time. For once in my life, I have no plans.

Imogen

Kind Faces in Strange Places...

I finally ate a decent breakfast in Leon by making good use of the hostel kitchen. Fruit followed by a giant frittata topped with avocado for less than $2. This is when coconut oil becomes a traveller staple. Not only can it be used to ease sunburn and hydrate skin and hair, but it can also be used in cooking! I walked to the markets by the cathedral, meandering through stalls of colourful fruit and vegetables, buying tomatoes, peppers, onions, potatoes, mangos and avocados the size of butternut squashes and so beautifully ripe. Supermarkets are giving us a shoddy deal back home.

I walked back past a homeless man outside begging, I gave him my bananas and I was so warmed by the genuine delight in his face, eating them immediately. It took me by surprise that small difference I may have made to his day, and the difference he made to mine. Language not a barrier, skin colour irrelevant, just kindness that is so easy to give.

I made it to Estelli after a long sweaty bus ride with Spanish pop blaring over the speakers. I met Ava on the bus, a girl from London I had met two days ago in Bigfoot hostel in Leon, along with her friends Amelia and Eden. They kindly let me join with them for a homestay in Miraflor.

Miraflor is a nature reserve, a very bumpy bus ride away from Estelli. At 5am the following morning we took the bus, ascending higher into the hills as the sun came up. Our family were Lorraina and Nelson who had the most beautiful, spotless home tucked away in the side of the mountain. Their garden was full of hydrangeas and hibiscus, set against smoky blue mountains. A cacophony of crickets and birds filled the skies. Lorraina cooked us breakfast, the most delicious fresh hot tortillas and gallo pinto with amazing coffee picked straight from the other side of the mountain.

Nelson took us horseback riding all over Miraflor. The land is so parched, it's the end of the dry season and everywhere is crying out for rain. Come December and everywhere is lush and green. We went swimming in the river, the most refreshed I've felt since I started travelling, and headed back. The northern highlands has many farming communities, which explains the delicious food and fresh produce. Lunch was sublime, a Nica dish filled with fresh vegetables.

We spent the afternoon reading in hammocks, playing with their children and watching the light change over the landscape, the sky turning lilac as dusk swept over. Over dinner Lorraina told us about the hurricane that destroyed their home and how they were able to build this one through a charity project from England. A woman called Sadie came for several months and helped them rebuild their home. It was wonderful to hear of a charity project that has been sustainable and beneficial, and had made such a difference to Lorraina's life. I am often skeptical of international charity projects, whether they endure when volunteers leave. This one clearly had. There were pictures of Sadie in my room, they had also remained friends.

Lorraina spoke no English, yet it was remarkable how we could still communicate with rudimentary Spanish, picking up certain words, signing and non-verbal cues. I was reminded that communication is about so much more than language. Again it reminds you of the connection you can make with people all over the world.

Families like Lorraina's rely on ecotourism to bring in extra income. Nicaragua is the poorest country in Central America, and in areas like Miraflor, people are isolated so there are few ways they can make revenue. I strongly urge anyone who visits Estelli to do a homestay in Miraflor. Not only is it so peaceful and beautiful, with some of the best Nicaraguan cooking you will taste, but you are directly helping a family. You will also get a true insight into how local people live in Niaragua. Our homestay was organised via treehuggers, opposite the Luna hostel in Estelli.

I had the best nights sleep I've had so far, in my own room with a double bed and a mosquito net! Serious luxury after weeks of dorm rooms. We left the next morning, thanking Lorraina profusely for welcoming us.

I am travelling with the girls to Granada. It is fantastic to have found familiar faces at repeated points during travelling, and has made the journey very companionable. Part of what I love about travelling is that you can change your plan and direction at any time, depending whether you want to stay or move on, just see where the wind takes you.

Imogen

Poneloya..

Yesterday I hopped on a shuttle bus to Poneloya, a beach about 20 minutes outside of Leon. I stayed at the Surfing Turtle, an eco lodge built right on the sand. Think cabanas, hammocks and surfboards stacked against brightly painted murals. The lodge also has horse riding and a turtle hatchery. In order to get there we crossed a river by small boat, then loaded a horse and cart with our bags and travelled on the back.

The Surfing Turtle is hidden and remote, surrounded by just empty stretches of sand. It's a brilliant traveller spot, all tanned girls in bikinis and boys with tattoos lazing around on the beach and playing volleyball in the afternoon. It was a wonderfully sociable and relaxed place. I met so many lovely backpackers - an Austrian chef who had lived in the Cayman Islands, a paediatrician from Germany and a surgeon from Chile who had quit their jobs to travel for a year, as well as some Brits with a great, laid back sense of humour. So many people you wouldn't meet any other way. I have met many people who are travelling throughout Central and South America; couples, friends and lone females, and it has restored my faith in backpacking.

The sunset gave way to a red full moon rising against the black sky, I have never seen anything like it. I initially thought I was looking at Mars. A group of us played Uno  (you can imagine my excitement) before a party on the beach with a bonfire, playing a crazy game of giant jenga and watching the huge Pacific waves roll in.

The next morning, after a yoga session, I took the bus back to Leon. Poneloya was a flying visit. I have been spoilt for beaches by Little Corn island and the black volcanic sand and grey-blue sea at Poneloya didn't quite compare. I am also itching to explore the rest of Nicaragua now that my confidence in travelling has been restored.

I've had a simple afternoon in Leon wandering and taking pictures of murals and crumbling buildings. I had a foot massage at 'Seeing Hands'', a charity that trains blind people to learn massage and gives them employment where they would otherwise be living on the street. I went in on a whim, keeping an open mind and it was very worthwhile. I practised my rudimentary Spanish with my masseuse, Roberto, and my feet had some much needed attention and reprieve.

Tomorrow I am travelling to Estelli in the Northern Highlands, where the air is cooler and the scenery meant to be stunning. Leon has been a sweltering 40 degrees so Estelli will be a welcome relief. I am so excited to see somewhere new. Time to move on!

Imogen

Transport by Horse and Trap

Surfing Turtle Lodge

Last week on Little Corn...

I've been reflecting on the good things that happened in that last week in Little Corn Island. Despite the attack, I speak so highly of the island, I would not hesitate to return. It is so beautiful, so energetic, so rustic and unassuming. I have never enjoyed Caribbean culture so much. There is a reason some people go to Little Corn and never leave.

In our last week Helen and I went horse riding. We had three hours of touring the island with Henry, our crazy Caribbean friend who joined us on his bike with two young horses in tow. I was riding Amigo, a very gentle and stubborn horse who liked to choose his own path, so I was often caught in bushes and risky uphill gallops. Helen was on Yaris, a grumpy mare. After smoking a zoot Henry swapped his bike for his huge chestnut horse and led on.

I haven't ridden for years, and I've never ridden horses on the beach before. It was wonderful, and the best way to see the island. Henry was, at one point, riding side saddle and backwards. 'I ride my horse and the ladies come to me' he said.' We cantered around the baseball field at sunset, riding western until Amigo refused to go in any other direction than home.

Cowgirls!

I also scuba dived for the first time in Little Corn. I went for a discovery dive with Dive Little Corn. I was so amazed that I was breathing underwater that I started laughing. My instructor saw my face and said 'she's going to be a diver!'. We practised in the confined shallow water first, descending a couple of metres.

In the afternoon we took a boat trip out to the reefs and did a 10m open water dive that lasted about 50 minutes. I saw stingrays, a nurse shark, angel fish and so many colourful fish I didn't know. It really is a different world under the sea, so much more vast than the world on land. It seems mad that humans have found a way to see it.

I am saving up to do my PADI for sure when I get home. PADI qualifications cost $330 which is cheap compared to the UK! However I have to be careful with spending as Nicaragua is more expensive than I anticipated, both on Little Corn and the mainland. The tourism here is growing and I reckon it will soon be on par with Costa Rica. Most of the prices listed in my lonely planet are out of date - and the book is only a couple of years old. So get here whilst you can before prices skyrocket! The dive cost me $70, the instructors were superb and it was worth every penny.

I did yoga most days during my stay, on the sun deck at the Lighthouse Hotel, overlooking the ocean. I even taught a class one morning! I have no yoga qualifications. Just a routine I've practised again and again in my bedroom and tips I've picked up from yoga teachers during classes. Teaching yoga gives you increased awareness of your body, of the rhythm of the class, improves your focus and it is incredibly satisfying to teach others. Perhaps this has opened up another possibility I hadn't thought about before.

I have so many amazing memories from Little Corn. It is an incredible privilege to go to the Caribbean on a backpackers budget, to eat lobster and to sunbathe on world class beaches. The north beach at Yemaya, the luxurious hotel, allows everyone to use the beach on their doorstep. It is the best beach by far on the island. Part of the fun of going there as a backpacker is that you submerge yourself with people who live there, you pick up the best tips of places to eat and meet people who will take you to experience new things. The Lighthouse Hotel was fantastic for this. Corn Island is so tranquil, with so much going on for such a small place, you will feel its magnetism as soon as you step off the boat.

Imogen

Yemaya Beach

Leon & The Ortiz Guardian...

Today has been a good day. I am gradually feeling more comfortable with travel again. A quick jog around the city helped me orientate myself. Leon is divided into blocks, much like the US. As an English person used to windy roads, I find blocks difficult as they all look the bloody same. Hettie, Iona, Ava and I - along with a couple of Scottish boys - climbed the cathedral to the roof. it is the largest cathedral in Central America, a huge white domed building showcasing spectacular views across Leon, with volcanoes in the distance.

I have spent most of the day drinking smoothies and strolling through the streets, wandering in and out of churches, taking pictures and enjoying the city. I haven't found Leon to be the colourful, revolutionary extravaganza as described in the guidebooks. It is interesting and unique, but it doesn't have a pulse that makes me want to stick around for much longer. My camera, however, certainly found love with Leon.

One spectacular aspect of Leon is the Ortiz Guardian art gallery. It is a stunning labyrinth of rooms, interlaced with courtyards and gardens. There were even turtles swimming in the atrium pools. The artwork was of a huge variety; ranging from renaissance and evangelical paintings from the 1600s, modern pieces from all over Central America and collections of Miro and Picasso. I felt a palpable connection to Barcelona upon seeing these latter paintings, remembering a perfect holiday of cobbled streets, art and Spanish culture.

There was even a Henry Moore sketch, who seems to crop up whether I'm at a gallery in Copenhagen, Nicaragua or Wakefield. Each time I see his work, I find it increasingly mesmerising. I used to hate his sculptures, finding them ugly and meaningless. However, it took a wise art teacher to point out the smoothness and fluidity of the sculptures juxtaposed with the cumbersome body they depict. The Henry Moore sculptures displayed outside at the Louisiana Museum of Art in Copenhagen they looked so striking set against the Nordic sea. I've grown to discover art should be viewed in three dimensions, and I find the energy of the gallery a key factor. The terracotta rooftops and open courtyards of the Ortiz Guardian were so romantic, so integral to Leon, the setting itself brought the paintings to life. I felt I had stumbled on somewhere very special in this gallery.

The Miro and Picasso pieces were a remarkable reminder of how the Spanish roots stretch across Latin America and unite the countries. Yet the centuries old catholic paintings remind us how the Spanish took this land by force and made their mark, enforcing their religion and colonial buildings onto the indigenous people. I saw hundreds of years of conflict unknowingly etched in these beautiful paintings. It gave me very mixed feelings enjoying something so beautiful and cultural but knowing at what cost.

The modern pieces from Central America consisted of many abstract human figures representing despair and anguish. The paintings were bright, bold and striking, echoeing the vibrancy of Latin America. Some, especially the ones from Honduras, were dark ad disturbing. It's an astounding collection, the gallery strives to allow lesser known artists to display their work. It was a very peaceful afternoon, complete by walking back past the cathedral to market stalls and eating Nicaraguan street food; chicken off a barbecue, gallo pinto and spinach patties, in the late afternoon sun.

Imogen

Arriving in Leon...

After a very emotional, turbulent week, I have arrived in Leon. I am in a big sociable hostel with a pool and courtyard. I arrived yesterday at midday, after a very straightforward bus journey out of Managua, I was so glad to see the back if that dishevelled, dangerous city. As the bus pulled into the main bus station, several men with carts on bicycles start shouting 'one dollar, one dollar' to take me to the hostel. Nelson was the lucky man who had the pleasure of peddling my cumbersome rucksack into town.

I immediately went for a walk around Leon to get my bearings. it is a small city with crumbling colonial buildings and magnificent churches. There is something strangely comforting about sitting in a cathedral, listening to the music, thanks to my Christian upbringing. Although my beliefs have changed, church is a reminder of friends and family who have a Christian connection and have so often looked out for me. Churches, to me, are places of kindness and safety.

I met three girls from Bristol, Iona, Ava and Hette, back at the dorm room and we strolled around the city at sunset. They took me to a beautiful vegetarian restaurant tucked away on a side street, I walked in and Mariza was playing - another reminiscent soundtrack to childhood holidays. Wooden tables and Picasso style artwork on the walls. I had only eaten bananas all day and a huge meal of falafel with lots of vegetables and hummus was most welcome. The girls were fantastic company, and a connection to England was just what I was in need of after unsettling events. The girls are Glastonbury veterans, which is always a good sign!

Back at the hostel I went to bed early, the girls went to night time beach party organised by the hostel. I am still adjusting to solo travelling, sticking to a strict budget and being kind to myself so alcohol was out of the question last night. I am incredibly wary of danger and I trust no one. I am hoping with a bit I time I will start to feel comfortable again and enjoy what Nicaragua has to offer. I have bought a local phone, which works internationally, and a couple of phone calls from Ben have kept me sane. Mum and I are communicating by email, which feels rather old fashioned! Today is a new day and I’m starting with my favourite thing to do in the morning - going for a run.

Imogen

Crumbling Streets of Leon

I loved this lady in her rocking chair sat in the street in the early evening

Iglesia La Recolección

A Series of Unfortunate Events...

So our travels took an unexpected turn and I am slowly coming to terms with what happened. Helen and I were mugged and assaulted at knife point. We were walking back to the hostel after dinner, about half 10 at night. We hadn't been drinking, we had been reassured that the island was safe. My reaction? I'm so tired. I can socialise in small bursts and then I need time alone. I find myself getting more frustrated easily when I'm with people walking slowly. I feel like I am chasing daylight because the night has become scary and sinister. I stand straighter, my eyes sharper, darting around to catch anything suspicious. It's changed me, it's made me more observant, and made me more determined not to let someone stop me. But I am exhausted by the process.

First there was the initial trauma, writing down what happened and the outpouring of emotion. Then the slow process of getting together with the police, tracking down the culprit, showing the police the crime scene, cancelling cards, contacting loved ones and dealing with people offering their kind words and support. The next day was an early start, going to Big Corn Island on the early boat to make an official police report and identify the man in question. He will be sent to Bluefields for the trial. In the past week Little Corn felt strange and confusing. The longer i stayed on the island, the more scared i became about traveling on the mainland. When people say dangerous things happen everywhere in the world what they fail to mention is that in this country, your white skin sticks out like a sore thumb, you are immediately a target. You are from the west and you have a lifestyle that they envy with ease of travel and material things.

I felt I had to continue my journey before fear prevented me from traveling now or in the future. I am on the plane back to the mainland, a slightly sturdier one than the toy craft that brought us here. It has been a difficult, turbulent and emotional week. Helen and I both had different experiences of the attack, and we have both reacted differently. Helen is going to the states a week early where she can feel safe and I am continuing my travels solo slightly earlier than planned. Why I am not coming home just yet to me, is simple to explain. I want to continue. I believe I will be stronger person for carrying on, I have put too much into the trip for me to cut it short. I could feel anxiety and fear of travel building in me the longer I stayed on Corn Island. I already feel better for leaving; feeling once again that anything is possible.

Now feels like the time to start proper traveling of loud Spanish, busy buses, lugging heavy backpacks and finding new things that surprise you each day. I am listening when everyone tells me to stay safe. Helen and I did not put ourselves in obvious danger, we were not being stupid, we were very very unlucky. Helen has been a fantastic travel partner. She is funny, laid back and I will miss our duo. Equally I feel happy knowing each of us has made the decision right for us. She is staying on Corn Island with people we have come to know well and are looking after her at the hostel until she an get her flights changed. She waved me off at the dock right up until the boat left, risking sunburn and heat rash! I am so grateful for having had her with me on this trip. Now I'm on my own I am learning to be flexible with my plans, striking up conversations and safety nets with people. I have found a couple, Emma and Alex to travel from the airport to a hostel with. So now begins a new adventure. Part of me is terrified, but for now this feels like the right decision. We will see how I go!

Imogen

All Five Senses...

When people say that travel broadens the mind, what they really mean is that it opens up your past, alters and influences your future and gives you a different present. Travel opens up memories. It can be the smell of sun tan lotion or coconuts, or hearing Buena Vista Social Club when you walk into a bar. Instantly I am brought back to Mediterranean holidays with my family and Elaine, Dave, Chloe and Katie, playing Uno on the decking with Dave and some of the happiest memories of my childhood. Travel also inspires our future. Swapping stories with other backpackers opens you up to new possibilities. New places sound so authentic and exciting when told by people who have lived there, retold in their accents. Already I am itching to go to Vancouver thanks to Kyle and Kirsten. You also swap stories of where you have been, and realise everyone has something different to tell; each person's perspective is new.

At home we are locked inside our heads. Travel gives us peripheral vision. It makes us appreciate the world that is around us, and grateful at the remarkable mechanical ability our bodies have to absorb this world. I was taken aback by how colourful Little Corn is, an unreal snapshot of blue sea, white sand and palm trees and the sunsets illuminating the sky with pink and orange.

Food always tastes better on holiday. Little Corn Island is surrounded with the most amazing produce; fresh lobster and fish, mouthwatering Cuban pork sandwiches, homemade fried chicken, gallo pinto, breakfast burritos, watermelon, star fruit, pineapples and mangos. Every mouthful so much more intense than the subtle flavours back home. Everything grows as if its on growth hormone, thanks to the scorching sun. Mango trees shoot up so quickly, huge bushes of mint and basil grow on your doorstep. I have never eaten so well on holiday.

Breakfast at The Lighthouse

Last night Jose - local man who helps at the lighthouse hostel - invited us for a meal at his home. He has nine children and five grandchildren and has not left the island for ten years. A group of us went at dusk to his house right on the beach. He cooked us a delicious soup on an open stove with coconut, yucca and fish caught a metre away from we're we were sitting. Palm trees hung over the water lit by moonlight and the open fire. I felt so replete and happy.

Back home everything is silent. People plugged into little white headphones, desperately avoiding eye contact with each other. Here, reggae music wafts from houses, men playing guitars, children play in the streets. People make an effort to talk to you and to know what has brought you here. Bartenders remember you like you've been here for years. Travel reminds us what we truly value, and what is unimportant. This world is nothing without an outstretched hand, a welcoming smile, our friends and family and the kindness of strangers. We travel so we can bring a piece of this home, remind ourselves to be grateful and to fall in love with the world again.

Imogen

An Idiot Abroad...

I'm behaving myself, I went to bed at a reasonable hour and my head is like a fucking orange. My skin is rough and dimpled. I woke up with my face puffy, ravaged by an outbreak of eczema. The sun, sea, suncream, sleep deprivation, travel and intense heat have not been kind. Other than that I've developed a good tan.

I woke up nurse Helen at 6am like a small child. 'Helen, I'm poorly!' Once we'd ruled out an anaphylactic reaction we piled doublebase onto my face and went to breakfast. I tried face timing my mum which mainly consisted of close ups of her hair and 'is this using my 4G?'
'Yes if you're not connected to wifi'
'Oh! Go away!' And hung up. Her sound medical advice came a few hours later.

Helen and I walked to the beach. My sandal broke and I walked down dusty paths flicking my foot in the air to keep the sole of my shoe on, somewhat resembling a platypus. My shoes were from Primark for anyone who wishes to avoid the same mistake.

I settled down in a sun chair on the white sand beach in front of the rippling blue ocean and opened up my book. Only to find it was in German. No, I do not speak German.

So I've been passing the time writing these posts and swapping hilarious and ridiculous stories with Helen, who makes it impossible to be miserable. We've been lying top to toe in a hammock all afternoon drinking pina coladas with Caribbean music wafting around our ears. Helen and I are writing a book of our undignified adventures. It's impossible not to laugh and it's so far been my favourite day. We walked back elated and tipsy, discarding my sandals, me proclaiming I'm going to change my blog name to 'barefoot imogen' and travel the world without shoes, as it's getting impossible to stand out on the Internet. 'You've also been wearing the same dress three days in a row, maybe you could travel the world just in that dress, with no shoes.' Said Helen. It would certainly make my backpack lighter.





We showered, dancing around the dorm room playing ABBA and Madonna, and restored my feet in Helen's superior quality shoes (from Office), and went out for pizza at Colour View. Mariana pizza with lobster, shrimp and galepinos and a Mediterranean vegetable pizza. We walked back to the bars where there is a music festival on over the weekend, we watched Sam, our Californian friend, sing and play his guitar and sat on the beach enjoying the warm Caribbean evening. We went to bed still laughing. There's a saying that travel on your own and you'll go fast, travel together and you'll go far', and I would like to add 'travel with Helen and you'll probably piss yourself'.

Imogen

Location:Corn Island,Nicaragua

A Party Game For Horrible People...

There are so many small moments that have left me with such elation. I'd forgotten what it was like for my senses to be overwhelmed with happiness with new, exotic experiences. Helen and I both had slight sunburn after our first day at the beach, a welcome gift for every traveller visiting Little Corn. We ate dinner at the unnamed 'Fritos place', mouthwatering fried chicken made from scratch, in a house down the dusty lanes where locals live. We were both in bed by 9 o' clock as our bodies gave in after our ruinous night out the day before. We have since spent our days keeping cool in the shade and wandering between cafes.

We felt we had built up our strength enough to enjoy happy hour back at our hostel bar. We walked to the Lighthouse at the top of the hill and climbed the long ladder to watch the sunset. Helen yelling 'Go on GI Jane' as I clambered up, determined not to stop or look down in case I lost my nerve. We were above the canopy of trees, with a full circle view of the sea. We watched the sun go down, so large and bright this close to the equator. I was playing Toots and the Maytals on my phone which received a high five from a local man at the top of the tower. There isn't a moment more perfect than watching the sunset with the words 'you shall be free again' playing in the Caribbean.




Back at the bar more drinks turned into a game of Cards Against Humanity, with an eclectic mix of British and American humour, and Helen telling many hilarious sexual health stories. Some of the girls staying at the hostel had lost a bet and were cooking dinner in their underwear. We moved onto Tranquilo and then Dreamcatcher; a bar at the end of the beach, lit by colourful fairy lights, a fire blazing outside, the sea a dark pool of mercury against millions of stars.

My 5.30am starts still persist which has been helpful for morning running and yoga, but has knocked my immune system and given me excruciating hangovers which are unforgiving in the heat. I'll be taking it easy until my jet lag has lessened, because sunbathing and drinking rum is incredibly hard work.

Imogen

Location:Corn Island,Nicaragua