It's almost 24 hours by now since we arrived in Latin America and already we have amassed a few tales to tell. We left Wales at 4.30 a.m. on Monday morning leaving more than a little time to spare before catching the first of our flights at middayish from Manchester to Heathrow. We certainly could have had an hour more sleep before leaving the house. But that's history as they say by now. Anyway to cut a long story short, by watching a few diversionary films on my ipad and succeeding to catch up on a few hours sleep - which is a rare thing indeed for me- the Miami leg of the journey past reasonably swiftly. But then we hit the queue. Hundreds maybe thousands of weary citizens of the world shuffling in unison up and down interminable aisles in the very ungrand entrance hall. An hour or so making slow and uncertain progress until we finally found our feet in front of our immigration interrogator. These terrorists who threaten the skies have created plenty of jobs for Xray machine operatives and the glass boxed officials who slump grumpily over their computer screens as they check whether your Esta form has been filled in correctly and bark at you to place the fingers of your right hand on their pad before they bark at you to put your right thumb on their pad before they bark at you to put your left fingers on their pad before they..... You've probably got the picture by now! Anyway, with just enough time to buy Caitlin a ridiculously priced pizza next to the departure lounge we trundled through mass confusion on to the American Airlines flight to Costa Rica. Flippin' heck! Talk about ineptitude! As we and probably at least half of the passengers were proceeding to board, we were told that our pre-printed boarding cards were unacceptable and had to be changed into new American Airline boarding cards! Unfortunately, the patrol gang guarding the corridor to the plane seemed not to know how to do this. Cue unseemly jostling by a substantial militant tendency amongst the prospective passengers. The threat of violence seemed to do the trick nicely as the officials seemed more concerned to avoid a prospective riot than protecting the essentials of boarding card etiquette. And so we landed in San Jose and were quickly through to the hall of carousels where Alyson's luggage was swiftly and forcibly vomited up onto the rotating belt. And Cailtin's too within a moment or so. Only one more to go -mine!- before we could beat our way to the front of the exiting travellers. But in spite of waiting patiently at the end of this slightly tortuous day of long distance travelling, the machine failed to spew out my belongings. My case was not on its way. It was somewhere else. And the sympathetic man behind the "You ain't got your luggage" counter could do little but re-enact his well rehearsed shrug of his shoulders look and utter words which in short said, "Your luggage will probably turn up on tomorrow's flight from Miami and arrive at about this time." Not good news as I will be in Nicaragua by that time. We left with me being somewhat downcast as I jealously watched the cases of Alyson and Caitlin being thrust into yet another Xray machine. My thoughts turned to how to avoid becoming a tramp like figure in appearance and odour over the next few days / weeks with me being without any spare garments to change into.....save for a pair of socks. Arriving beyond arrivals where a hoard of board bearing taxi drivers and other chancers thronged around us, we found our pick up taxi driver who took us through some darkened, uncelubrious lanes to our one night abode, "La Rosa de America" where we were quickly but warmly greeted and then dispatched to our simple butpleasant enough chalet. Tosleep, perchance...... Tuesday morning arrived after a slightly fitful sleep with a dream or two peppered with references to unclean clothes and dodgy smells emanating from my person. A passable breakfast of unfamiliar cereals, fruit and scrambled eggs with stale bread set us up for much. of the day. It was time to plan my campaign. There was no news about my luggage so the decision was to try to buy a few basic clothes; shorts, T shirts and nether region wear as contigency clothing for the near future. Following a discussion with the manager of the hotel, a taxi driver / guide was booked to take me the shopping area of Alajuela and at 11 we headed off with Ignacio towards a low cost clothing shop. Once Ignacio realised that I knew a little Spanish, he insisted that we talk solely in Spanish. Amazing how the words come back. I must have had thirty minutes of conversational Spanish with him and as he spoke slowly and steadily almost understan everything he said. I returned from the shopping trip with four shirts, two shorts and six pairs of dodgy underpants and renewed confidence in my ability to communicate in Spanish. Back at the hotel after an essential quick shower, I entered my new clean clothes and used the reception computer to check up on the progress of my missing luggage. I learnt that my case had been found and was now waiting for me. At mid-afternoon back in San Jose airport, I eventually persuaded an armed policeman -who spoke no English!- to allow me into the arrivals hall to reclaim my prodigal property.With this in my possesion, we found the counter to pay our $28 each departure tax and checked in for the Managua flight. We were less than an hour in the air before touch down in Nicaragua, a place my mother called it Nicsia and Nicosia in our skype conversation earlier today! Going through customs was uncharacteristically unfussy and speedy though we did have to pay a $10 entry tax each and some local yoik took control of feeding our bags onto the ubiquitous xray machine towards the exit and then proceded to accompany us to our taxi driver. Tip seeking man with assertively demanding eyes which said, "Give me a tip." Unwisely, we did. $1 for semi-completing an unwarranted task which he ungraciously accepted. I begrudge it now but I understand that in those first few minutes of arriving in a strange country we are at our most vulnerable to scams. Anyway, I'm almost up to date with this journal. Caitlin and Alyson have been sleeping for the past two hours or so while I've been writing this. I even went for a meal in the restaurant while they've lain in the land of the unconscious. Can't promise to be as conscientious with the journal over the next few weeks! Time for me to aim for sleep now. Twenty past ten here and twenty past five tomoorrow back home. Nos da!