Downer

 Coming back from travel has been the weirdest phase of my life. You've spent five months trekking across the globe. You've learnt to use sunglasses as tweezers and what the best way to wash your pants in the shower is. You're meeting the most inspirational go-getters from every country in the world. All you want while you're out there, is to run back into your families arms, have a bath and eat something with good cheese in it. And then it's completely not how you expect.

 For the last two weeks of my trip, I was incredibly ill and exhausted. I had been on antibiotics for 4 days for a reoccurring problem over three and a half months, followed by a 22 hour bus journey that made me throw up all night, and then I arrived at altitude and got the worst altitude sickness I have ever had. This was just before my 4 day trek up to Macchu Pichu, which meant I was sick during my time and it made it very difficult. The fabulous landmark and the optimism of my team was a huge lift - I forgot for a minute that the only thing I can eat without being sick is crisps - the view was phenomenal and my group were the most positive people I have ever had the pleasure to spend time with.

 Then it was my last country, Brazil. I was chuffed to see an old friend, but counting down the days, desperate to get home. I went into a Macdonalds and tried to order a chicken burger in Portugese - I came out with a Mango Smoothie. It was going well. It got to the point where I was counting down the minutes and minus-ing off each minute that passed. All I could do was play the image of coming through the gate and seeing my parents and my boyfriend again. With my birthday the day after my return it was hugely exciting to be so close to the end.

 One eleven and a half hour flight back, I was crying at one point I was so excited, I was constantly looking out my window and checking the time. Then I arrived, and I ran so fast I overtook the 1st class people from my flight just to be out first. After the big collapse into them again I was so shocked, it felt surreal to be back with them again.

 It's funny how crazy that moment seems and then ten minutes later you're discussing what's going to happen next Tuesday to the dogs and it's like you've never been gone. You're expecting people to ask you what happened and to tell them everything about it and they don't. Because everyone has been getting on with their own lives, no one is really desperate to hear about your story.

 I'm not annoyed at all, but it was the weirdest thing. Life descends back to reality and after a couple of days of feeling like you've missed out on loads it's just the same as it always was. The sad part is I came back with so much zest for life and I was so excited to get stuff done. That all faded away when I was back. It felt very draining. But now I am at university and I have made such good friends already. I feel right at home and my course is going to be great fun, so I am happy now. I just found that side of my return very interesting; how quickly we acclimatise again, and you aren't an individual to anyone but yourself really. Hell can you tell the difference between people who took a year out and people who didn't though... at least I have that smug maturity.