The tiny village of Sabalito is home to less than 200 people, so there were no tourists in sight, we had a few days of pure relaxation, learning how to salsa, getting a haircut with the aid of a translator, and playing football in the rain with the whole youth population of the village. The whole family were amazing hosts, we didn’t stop eating homemade food all day, which was wonderful but I was gaining weight at a rate of notts. We borrowed the car for the morning to drive to a yoga class at a retreat in the forest. The studio was a wooden platform suspended over the river below which made a nice setting with the pitter patter of water dropping all around. Driving on unpaved roads was worlds away from the comfort of the states, which must have been an initial shock to the expat masses in the area. I can’t believe how many Americans were living around the lake. Nicas had referred to it as ‘Costa Gringo’ on numerous ocassions but we thought that was an exaggeration and part of the general banter between the nations. We were obviously really sad to leave our new comfortable life but we had to make it on the road in time to visit families number two and three.