Air sickness, as my grandmother would call it

One of the most frustrating things that can happen when you're travelling on the road, is when your body lets you down and your travel plans have to be rearranged in an instant.

Having Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) isn't so bad. There are certainly times when I've been more ill and when a self-diagnoses was nigh impossible.

But it is slightly worrying when you find yourself trying to inhale the last bit of oxygen from the canister handed to you by two Swedish tourists and when your Japanese room mate is showing you to take deep breaths in through your mouth and out through your nose to make sure you're getting enough of the good stuff.

The worst thing about AMS: the 1500kuai minibus ride down from 4700m to the relatively minor elevation of Lhasa.

As travelling goes, there is almost nothing more annoying than having to spend your tight budget on emergency "get me out of here" locations...but at least now I can breathe on my own, so a touch thankful for that.

Air sickness, as my grandmother would call AMS, can happen to anyone. This time I guess I was the unlucky one. Or the fortunate one depending on how you look at it.