On the second morning we departed Managua for the beach town of San Juan del Sur. I would learn that day that an attempt earlier in the morning by one of our travel companions to bring back some of the crew of the Diamond Club to the Intercontinental for a pool party was met with a cold response from hotel security.

While my companions were frolicking with strippers (or attempting to, at any rate) by the pool, the day started off brutally for me at about 4am, when I woke up with the convulsive pains of "Montezuma's Revenge". Fortunately I had a few hours to try to get it out of my system before hopping on the bus. A few Pepto Cocktails throughout the day sustained me at a relatively reasonable level.

The rum started flowing very early on the bus. I think it is safe to say that dozens of cocktails were consumed before the noon hour.

We stopped off at a road-side produce stand to pick up some fresh fruit for the cocktail expo that was to take place that evening at the hotel bar.

(L-R) Phil Ward, Brian Miller, Miss Pamela

A few years ago the Flor de Caña company started an initiative to create an official drink of Nicaragua, in the way that the Caipirinha symbolizes Brazil. They came up with the Macuá, and they've done a good job at spreading the word about the drink. Even Finest Call has a Macuá mix that I saw on store shelves and behind bars. Eben Freeman was interested in pursuing other local flavors that would create a "sense of place" in a Nicaragua cocktail. In addition to the produce stand he perused the nearby mini-mart looking for local juices and sodas.

Ironically, the motto of Finest Call is "Add a splash of fruit with Finest Call" It seems like the most obvious way to add a splash of fruit would be to actually add a splash of fruit.

On the highway outside of Managua we pulled into a national natural area to visit the Volcan Mombacho, one of the only active volcanos in the world that you can drive up to the edge of and look into. This is good, because given my condition there is no way I was going to climb that bitch.

The homeys enjoying the view from the volcano

The road to San Juan del Sur seemed interminable, despite traveling in good company with copious libations. There was one stop after another--for volcanos or mangos, hammocks and potties, it seemed like we were never going to get to the beach. We finally arrived late afternoon and had a little lunch at the beautiful cafe. The Piedras y Olas resort is pretty much breathtaking. The restaurant overlooks the pool, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean. The little protected harbor of San Juan del Sur is something out of a postcard, at least it is right now before all the honkeys show up.

We retired to our rooms for a spell before reconvening back at the restaurant where there was to be a cocktail exposition behind the bar. I took a nap and woke up to a spectacular sunset, and feeling much better about myself, and about Montezuma.

Down in the bar the crew began shaking cocktails for a special presentation for the mayor of San Juan del Sur.

Eben is working on a cocktail featuring the flavors of Nicaragua. Here he is playing with a local cola.

In the absence of a bona fide muddler, Phil Ward used the agitator from the VitaMix blender.

Eben let us in on a little secret he was working on: the powdered substance is dehydrated rum, which he intended to use with Coca Cola pop rocks for a dehydrated Rum & Coke

After the bartending demo we went down to the beach where we ate fresh seafood at a restaurant that was just yards away from the water's edge.

One of the people at the restaurant was walking around with a little baby tiger. The star of the food show was a fish "carpaccio" with jalapeño and parmesan.

When the host saw that the tour was a complete sausagefest, he asked that a couple of the company spokesmodels come along to achieve gender balance. The girl on the left we called Text because she spent a lot of time sending text messages; the girl on the right was super charming and a hell of a dancer, I think her name was Maylene. She brought a lot of cheer to the trip. In this picture she is dancing on the table before the nightclub owner asked her to step down--he must have been smoking something because she was putting on a hell of a performance.

Holistar, I guess, is the third-world equivalent of Hollister