OK I’m literally going to rub it in by saying I’ve had another massage today. This was followed by a three hour workshop on how to make chocolate, which included making my own chocolate bar with coffee beans and almond shavings. MMmmmmm…coooffffeeeee beeeannnss…
We’ve arrived at Granada’s famous chocolate museum. This is also home to a spa and luxury hotel. Another day of pampering awaits. The massage is somewhat rougher than I’m used to. she throws me into all kinds of crazy positions and appears to be enjoying herself while she’s at it. I’ve gone to the only sado masochist in Nicaragua. Actually that’s almost definitely not true.
I become aware she could potentially snap my spine or tear a limb off. I’m also aware she’s getting dangerously close to smacking my balls when she’s doing that vigorous choppy hand thing on my thigh. I say close, I actually mean she karate’s my left testicle, sending my leg high into the air with a howl of pain. I nearly put her grinning teeth out. “Lo sciento” came the mumble response. “I’m sorry”. Yes. Sorry for permanently damaging my ability to have children. Thank goodness she didn’t ask if I wanted a happy ending. That would have given new meaning to ‘ripping the head off it.’
Feeling an odd mixture of pleasure and pain, I make my way to the chocolate workshop Tina and myself have signed up for. It’s a fascinating, thoroughly enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, and one of the nicest things I’ve done since coming to this country. Forget trying to swim with fish or throw yourself down a volcano; learning how to make chocolate is the way forward. This is my kind of tourism. Safe, tasty and reassuringly dull.
No, no, no…I do the day an injustice. It genuinely was lovely. One thing that I didn’t grasp however, was how even relatively close to the cocoa bean source, Hershey’s chocolate is still shit? Apparently Nestle invented milk chocolate too, and that still tastes like pig swill. I’m afraid the kings of coco for me forever remain the Belgians, with the Nicaraguans a close second, and Mini Eggs bringing up the rear. It’s a question of light verse dark really. Chocolate racism. I proudly place the fruits of my labours into the fridge to collect in the morning. Cadbury eat your heart out. With a bit of luck, tomorrow I will be the proud owner of chocolate and sight. Together at last.
Chocolate!
OK I’m literally going to rub it in by saying I’ve had another massage today. This was followed by a three hour workshop on how to make chocolate, which included making my own chocolate bar with coffee beans and almond shavings. MMmmmmm…coooffffeeeee beeeannnss…
We’ve arrived at Granada’s famous chocolate museum. This is also home to a spa and luxury hotel. Another day of pampering awaits. The massage is somewhat rougher than I’m used to. she throws me into all kinds of crazy positions and appears to be enjoying herself while she’s at it. I’ve gone to the only sado masochist in Nicaragua. Actually that’s almost definitely not true.
I become aware she could potentially snap my spine or tear a limb off. I’m also aware she’s getting dangerously close to smacking my balls when she’s doing that vigorous choppy hand thing on my thigh. I say close, I actually mean she karate’s my left testicle, sending my leg high into the air with a howl of pain. I nearly put her grinning teeth out. “Lo sciento” came the mumble response. “I’m sorry”. Yes. Sorry for permanently damaging my ability to have children. Thank goodness she didn’t ask if I wanted a happy ending. That would have given new meaning to ‘ripping the head off it.’
Feeling an odd mixture of pleasure and pain, I make my way to the chocolate workshop Tina and myself have signed up for. It’s a fascinating, thoroughly enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, and one of the nicest things I’ve done since coming to this country. Forget trying to swim with fish or throw yourself down a volcano; learning how to make chocolate is the way forward. This is my kind of tourism. Safe, tasty and reassuringly dull.
No, no, no…I do the day an injustice. It genuinely was lovely. One thing that I didn’t grasp however, was how even relatively close to the cocoa bean source, Hershey’s chocolate is still shit? Apparently Nestle invented milk chocolate too, and that still tastes like pig swill. I’m afraid the kings of coco for me forever remain the Belgians, with the Nicaraguans a close second, and Mini Eggs bringing up the rear. It’s a question of light verse dark really. Chocolate racism. I proudly place the fruits of my labours into the fridge to collect in the morning. Cadbury eat your heart out. With a bit of luck, tomorrow I will be the proud owner of chocolate and sight. Together at last.