Now, stuff happened in Granada. Nothing bad, but I'm cogitating on on a conversation... But in the meantime, and in the spirit of Paul Theroux's ascerbic approach to travelling companions, I thought a little insight into today's journey might be handy.

Off I went from lovely Granada intent on reaching Leon via Managua. And a relatively straightforward journey it was, if you allow for my coccix getting battered again. But this is the thing...

There were 9 of us plus the driver in our shuttle - a faster and more pleasant option than the chicken-bus tag we would otherwise have had to have undertaken. There was a frustrated American, keen to get to the airport: two Sloane Rangers travelling on daddy's credit card ("I just love Disney films": three Spanish girls: and a Canadian couple. And me, obviously.

I was the first on the bus and said hello to my fellows as they boarded. And smiled. I generally got a response, but it wasn't what you would call friendly. Essentially, each little pod of holiday-maker, however made up, simply wanted to get from a to b without having to regard the journey as a joint venture. What chat there was (but only intra-group) soon dried up and everyone settled into staring and dozing. This is fair enough, why should people interact if they don't want to? But also: why not interact? You're on your holidays! Someone might have a really good tip or an interesting story to share.

Anyway, that was just as it was, but it got worse from my perspective. The journey was 3 hours with, often, much to see out of the window. There was the madness of the markets, the insane driving, volcanoes and lakes, brick factories (more intersting than you'd think) and at different points cowboys driving steers and women driving mules. There were unusual trees and birds and children playing mad games. But did anyone remark to their companions on any of this? No. Absolutely not. It was as if they were heading to A PLACE. When they got to THE PLACE, they would interact with their tour guide, do the tour and then be able to say they'd been to THAT PLACE.

When I was a youngster that bus would have been a party of joshing, story swapping, maybe a little bit of flirting and, mostly, fun. Where did the fun go?

Or maybe everyone just thought I was a weirdo. Fair enough.

By the way - rell me what's going on in that picture. Go on...