The journey here might have been dull and rather dispiriting and the weather truly profound in its leaden heat, but it was all made worth it when I went to the Museum of the Revolution and introduced myself as a socialist who supported (in his own weak way) the Sandinistas back in the day. It's fair to say it's important to make clear one isn't an American at moments like this.

Yes, THIS, is why I came here, although the 14 volcanoes that surround the town are impressive. My guide was Marcelo (in that picture there) and he took me through the history of the country, starting around the time of eternal pantomime villian William Walker - a proto fascist in absolutely everything but name.

I won't bore you with the details (although they're not boring), but suffice to say it was an honour to meet a load of the original 1979 revolutionaries in what was the seat of the revolution. They've kept the building as it was during the fighting, with loads of murals, pictures and newspaper cuttings throughout.

Marcelo was at pains to tell me everything about everything. Took about one and half hours of me trying to keep up, but it was worth it. Without the likes of these guys tyranny is never overcome. We all owe them a large debt. And, as Mike reminded me in the other place, we contributed ever-so-slightly on the famous Nicaragua Night in Olivers all those years ago...

¡ viva la sandinista!

I hope all those travel pods from yesterday's journey are having a nice time in their kayaks.