When we woke up on the morning of our tour, we both felt like we'd been hit by a train but after an altitude sickness pill and some mate de coca (coca leaf tea), we had perked up slightly. Eva had decided to join us on the tour and so after breakfast, we met our driver and guide, Fidel and Oscar (who had been a little delayed due to the ongoing blockades).

As we headed into the countryside, Oscar proceeded to reel off facts and interesting information about the region, but only about half of it was actually going in as the altitude sickness came in waves. It didn't help that none of the roads were sealed and so we were constantly bouncing around the jeep; not to mention the sun constantly glaring in through the window.

By that night, I was pretty much just a zombie: I'd lost my appetite and had to force food down, I felt queasy whenever I stood up and was so cold that my whole body was shaking with the shivers. To make matters worse, I had an awful sleep as I was gasping for breath throughout the night and my chest felt as though it was being crushed by a vice. Then there were the obligatory gastro issues and finally, I was coughing up blood. When I was actually sleeping, all my dreams were about ways of finding out the City v Aston Villa score, as nowhere had internet or even phone reception.

I discovered in the morning that Anne had pretty much all the same symptoms as me and so Oscar insisted on taking us to a clinic first thing where the nurse took our blood pressure and heart beats per minute. Apparently, the normal BPM in this altitude is 80 when resting: Anne's was 96 and mine was 109. Despite us both immediately being overcome with worry, the nurse assured us that this was perfectly normal for people adjusting to the altitude. I suppose it makes sense as there's less oxygen in the air and so your heart is working harder trying to pump it around your body.

Nonetheless, we were prescribed some pills and in the space of 24 hours I had taken 2 heart pills, 2 for blood pressure, 3 anti-diarrhoea, 3 altitude sickness and 2 cold & flu. I don't think that even my 74 year old diabetic Nan takes that many; I'm only bloody 29.

Aside from the pills, there were also the various leaves that Fidel and Oscar found and made into teas for us. Apparently in the Bolivian countryside, this is the only medicine on offer; I honestly couldn't tell you if they helped or not.

Despite feeling better on the second day and being able to partake in some of the activities, such as admiring the lagoons that change colour with the wind, walking around the geysers and taking a dip in the hot springs, I still wasn't at 100% and that was after we dropped from almost 5,000m to 4,100m. Anne was still feeling the symptoms in waves but was coping a lot better than I was.

Another awful night's sleep then ensued, with similar symptoms and yet more dreams about how I could learn the City score.

The worse moments for me came on the third day, when the minimal food and abundance of different tablets seemed to take its toll as I began to feel a pretty spaced out. I'm pretty sure that I had overdosed - how could I not with that aforementioned cocktail of drugs - and the lowest point of the day was when I had to ask Fidel to pull over so that I could vomit.

Actually, no, I lie. There was a lower point. It was when we had stopped for lunch and I was forced to take a s*** in the wilderness. Although I thought I'd managed to find a secret location to do so, someone still walked by and spotted me. Typical.

Needless to say at this point, both Anne and I had had enough. It was definitely our own stupid faults for going from Puerto Iguazu to Tupiza and straight onto tour (so pretty much sea level to 5,000m) in the space of five or six days. It still didn't stop us feeling sorry for ourselves though.

Anyway, as Anne and Eva were shown more lagoons with different species of flamingos, I spent the majority of the day lay down in the car.

By the time we arrived at our final digs for the tour - a hotel made entirely of salt no less - I did finally start feeling better; even more so after my first hot shower in three days. I managed a few bowls of soup and a small portion of lasagne for dinner and then spotted some lads from Manchester who had told me that City beat Villa 3-2. I slept soundly that night.

The final day of the tour was to be an early start as this was the highlight we'd all been waiting for: we were finally heading onto the Salt Flats.

For those who don't know, the Salt Flats are a natural phenomenon caused by the evaporation of an inland sea thousands of years ago. The salty residue that was left behind meant that there's an endless vastness of white stretching out for over 10,000 square kilometres (or just over 4,000 square miles for those who prefer imperial measurements), meaning it's the largest of its kind in the entire world. In the rainy season, the flats can still receive a good few feet of water so tourism pretty much shuts down during those months.

Aside from the sheer amazement, one other thing that the infinite whiteness offers is the opportunity of taking perspective-skewed photos - something that we'd all been looking forward to. After watching the sunrise and then enjoying breakfast at Incahuasi Island in the centre of the flats (basically just an island full of cacti), we drove out into the infinite white and found a suitable spot to snap away. We all had great fun taking turns in posing and coming up with our own daft creations and our 90 minutes allocated time was soon over.

From there, and after stopping off briefly for lunch, it was onto the nearby town of Uyuni to see the train cemetery - quite simply as it says on the tin. After that, we embarked on the six hour journey back to Tupiza, which was made slightly longer as Fidel and Oscar stopped to help a couple of other tour guides who had had a minor car accident. No-one was injured, but the steering arm of one of the cars needed straightening. This meant four men taking it in turns to furiously hammer away with a mallet. I couldn't help thinking that it was a far cry from the British protocol in these situations: pretty much just exchange details and then wait for the AA. No chance of that here.

Not so champion

After getting back to Tupiza in early evening, I managed to catch up on all the footy news and found that City didn't win 3-2, but 4-0 - a pleasant surprise. However, I began to have doubts about whether or not I would actually be able to watch Sunday's game as I couldn't find any TV listings and the internet was actually working, it was painfully slow.

My fears were confirmed the next morning when ESPN decided to show the Liverpool game instead and as the wifi hadn't improved, there was no chance of streaming it.

City went on to claim the title, but instead of celebrating, I just sat there sulking as I'd missed the lot and so didn't feel a part of it at all - a far cry from my 2012 experience in Thailand when City last won the league.

All-in-all, the past week had really taken it out of me. I hate travelling 'fast' at the best of times, as it's so exhausting moving from place to place every three days. To do this whilst being ill and without having any time to recover makes it a hundred times worse.

However, because you have to book the Inca Trail well in advance, we have no option but to continue rushing from this point on, starting with an overnight train and then a bus to La Paz the next day.

The side effects of sickness

On reflection, I actually felt a bit sorry for Oscar, as he was a great guide and cook and I felt that all of his efforts were mostly in vain, as we couldn't fully appreciate his chirpiness or food. He was completely full of life though and always happy (apart from when he had severe toothache on the first night, but that's understandable).

One bizarre moment occurred on the last day when Anne asked him what the lyrics were to a song that he was singing; he replied with 'Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I think I'll go and eat worms'. This was a song that my Mum used to tease me with when I was sulking as a kid; I couldn't believe that they sung a Spanish version in Bolivia.

I also felt very sorry for Eva, our 20 year old German co-traveller. Surely her experience was dampened by Anne and my sickness. We apologised profusely but she insisted that she'd enjoyed herself. I truly hope she did.

So, no doubt both my Mum and Anne's will be worrying once they read this, but you seriously don't have to; we've suitably adjusted now and feel perfectly fine.

And as for anyone reading this looking for tips on doing the Salt Flats from Tupiza, my advice is this: Don't rush and ensure you acclimatise first. So quite simply just do the opposite of what we did.

You live and learn.