Sunday morning found us preparing unhurriedly to leave. There still had been no sign of the officials and we were hesitant to bail on them. It wouldn't be a pretty sight to find the Nicaraguan Navy speeding out to catch up with us.... And so I napped while Eric and then Brian wandered over to the restaurant for breakfast. They saw the uniforms, briefcases and military boots descending on the Faith before I did. "Crew of little Faith!" came the call from the dock. "Hola!" I responded, "Un momento, por favor!" Slipping on some shorts and a shirt I bounded to the deck to welcome them. Aboard they came with the usual rash of questions (how big's the boat, where are you coming from, where are you going, really?, in this little thing?, huh, oh, do you have your paperwork, ect). Normally this process takes a couple of hours because I have to wiz around the town from office to office. This time all four required officials were right there on the vessel with me. "What time will you be leaving?" was one of the initial questions posed by the hombre from Migracion. "2:00 pm" I responded hopefully, giving myself some leeway so we could get gasoline, lunch, pay the harbormaster, and stow the few odd items lying about the boat. (The entire exchange took place in Spanish. With Eric's and Brian's help we made sure they understood we had all these things to take care of prior to departure.) This turned out to be a bad estimate. Eric and Brian returned from breakfast. The officials chatted amongst themselves, chatted with us, returned to chatting amongst themselves, and every ten minutes or so wrote something down. The procedure lasted an agonizing two and a half hours, by which time it was twelve-thirty. We thanked them and went to eat lunch at the restaurant. The officials joined us, a few tables away. Then I made fuel arrangements, which took twenty minutes. Another forty-five to get the bill taken care of. During this time the Migracion guy is standing in the doorway of the marina office, checking his watch and tossing significant looks my way. Finally, he spoke: "You have to leave now, it's after two." "Yeah, well maybe we'd already be gone if you jokers hadn't sat jabbering for an extra hour and a half...I mean you knew we had to take care of all this stuff," is what I wanted to say. Instead I said, "Yes, we're leaving now." Then he stopped Eric ten seconds later and the same short conversation ensued. When I did get back to the boat Brian said, "Hey, that Migracion guy is telling us we're late." Oy. We did finally untie from the dock and point the bow into the channel. I didn't look but I'm certain our buddy breathed a sigh of relief, "you practically have to kick those damn gringos out...." Nevertheless, we love Nicaragua. Viva Puesta del Sol!