That awkward moment when you find yourself in the middle of a paddy field.

3 years ago I travelled around south east Asia with my best friend. My exasperated doctors at the time gave me very few warnings besides telling me to eat lots, drink gallons and take as many salt tablets as possible. The one warning I was given was to, at all costs, avoid paddy fields. There's a mould which grows in the fields that can be highly dangerous to cystics and could easily stop me in my tracks and see me and my backpack bundled back on a plane bound for home.

"All around us are paddy fields" was the line that filled me with dread as we started the drive from Goa airport to Palolem in the South. He wasn't lying either, we were surrounded everywhere we went in both north and south Goa. They stretched for miles, there were reservoirs and aqueducts built to keep them boggy, thousands of people spent their days in there neat, swampy rows; and I wasn't meant to be anywhere near them. 

I don't know if it was the paddy fields that did it. It could have been that, or the combination of a lack of aerobic exercise, a slight drop in weight and the smoking habits of our travelling companions. It could have been that the smog of the cities had finally hit my chest and my poor little lungs just didn't want to fight anymore. Either way 10 days before we were due to leave India, my chest decided it didn't want to be there anymore. 

I've been in New Zealand for over a week now and things are improving. I didn't sleep for days, coughed to the point of sickness a number of times, and seriously considered a trip to the docs. It was really quite shit for a week or so, poor Alice didn't sleep either because my coughing kept her up too, and my appetite also suffered. All that said, I am incredibly proud of my broken little body and all it coped with and achieved. 

India was always going to be my biggest hurdle. The heat, the food, the dirt, the lack of excersise, the means of transport and the limited access to treatment; there were many odds stacked against me and my CF. Yes, I've an infection, but I'm fighting it. I worked so hard to make myself fit enough for this trip: the many hours in the gym, the early morning runs, eating and putting on those precious kilos, saving and saving and saving, all so I could come away and experience everything before my insurance company bit me in the arse and stopped me from exploring. 

I loved India. I loved how much it surprised me. I loved how, after a while, nothing did surprise me anymore because anything goes out there. There are so many preconceived ideas about it as a place and whilst I'm not saying it's the safest place to visit, nor am I letting my little sister head there on her own any time soon, everyone we met seemed to, more than anything, be desperate to disprove the stories and the misconceptions, they wanted us to love their country and their people; and we whole-heartedly did.

The air is clear in New Zealand. We are exercising and eating fruit and veg. My chest is improving and getting over the shock of India. Physio, Cipro, nebs and running are a killer combination.

L xx