"There! There! Can you see it!?" Her American shrill carried easily through the dripping vines and leafy canopy. "Up there in the top-most branches with just a little sun on his head. Did you know, sloths have an entire eco-system growing on their fur?"

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The bus had been hot and sticky; a clammy heat that with every jolt and bump encircled you with suffocating tendrils. By the time we reached the coast our only hope of salvation was to fling ourselves head first into the sea. So down we stumbled a worn, steep road to reach the busy cove where dark green vegetation boardered the glistening crescent of creamy blue. Ticos and Toursists alike were soaking up the last days of an evening's sun: one man was selling pipa (coconut) water strait from the shell, while another was packing up a collection of life-sized inflatable unicorns. But we were only here for the sea. Diving in, it felt as if God had poured a freshly boiled kettle into the soft and salty waters of our bay. The waves splashed over us washing away all traces of sweat and providing the perfect remedy for our exhausted, clammy Beings.

When at last the time came to leave our little bay behind we ambled back up the slope in the hope of catching a Costa Rican sunset -and catch it we did! Pale and peachy streaks silhouetted the cocktails of Cindy and Julian as we sat laughing with our Italian waiter over the complexities of country and language. But as the peach began to fade to darkness my stomach began to call: "Tacos! Tacos! Tacos!"

After spying the authentic hilltop bar-come-restaurant earlier, we arrived now to find it packed with merrying revelers enjoying the spices if Mexican food. Seating ourselves on the only available perch -coincidentally the balcony- we tucked into a feast of guacamole, tortilla chips and tacos brimming with an infusion of spicy beans, juicy salad and rich salsa. Before long the crazy rhythms of a possessed guitarist could be heard over the clunk of beer bottles and the squeal of that oh-so-spicy chilli pepper.

But we weren't here -on Costa Rica's Pacific coast- to enjoy the nightlife. Not really. Having been given two days leave from our duties on the farm the other volunteers and I had jumped at the chance to see some of this tiny country's magic: we were here to witness the natural wonders of Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio. And that, is how we found ourselves -at 8:15 the following morning- looking up into the highest branches of this untouched rainforest at the world's slowest moving mammal: The Sloth. He sat, arms crossed as if in an armchair, so still he could have been a Mayan stone carving. But no, he was indeed alive -a slight tilt of his head towards the sun informed us so. After having trekked one of the parks quieter trail's -where we had been promised numerous sightings of sloths, monkeys and spiders- for well over half and hour we had been abit disappointed to have only spied one Agouti slink off the path into the leave encased darkness. So, it had come as both a surprise and a relief (that our $16 entry fee hadn't been waisted) when Mrs Shrill-Voiced American had beconed us over.

His Majesty The Sloth wasn't to be the only fascinating creature we would see in Costa Rica's smallest, yet most visited, national park. Tagging along begin various guided groups we witnessed some astonishing displays: Squirrel Monkeys danced from branch to bring as we wandered past showing off some daredevil leaps and flips; Blue Morph Butterflies fluttered from one sunny opening to the next, never stopping long enough for us to capture their immense size and lightning blue in a photograph. And as we began the ascent through sticky tropical rainforest towards the park's far reaches a parade of Leaf Cutter Ants trundled alongside the path; bright green leaves wobbling precariously on their backs up to 3 times their size. These incredible insects collect the leaves to grow a type of fungus which is their food source.

Finally, after a sweat soaked climb we reached the pinnacle viewpoint of the Sendero El Mirador trail: a marvelous vista spread wide encompassing the lush headland of Punta Serrucho rising out of a twinkling misty blue. With half an hour to spare before we had to head for home Cindy and I raced down to Playa Gemelas to sink our toes into the perfectly pale sand and to feel the dancing little waves play around our ankles. Strong rip-currants warned against swimming so we held off having to suffice with the promise of an ice-cream back in San Isidro.

And we weren't to be disappointed. After an equally long and sticky bus ride home -in which my only form of salvation was a sweet banana and a molten jar of nuttella- we arrived outside the magical ice-cream parlor "POP's". At least a dozen exotic flavours of creamy gelato paraded before our eyes from Mora berry to Dulche de Leche (butterscotch). It was a tough call between the banana split sundae and the triple cone encased with dark chocolate and nuts, but after a rewarding morning hiking through the humid rainforest in search of sloths... It had to be the cone!