A day of nervous excitement. I left my home in Brighton by coach at 3.35pm. Saying goodbye to my boyfriend, Ian, was heart wrenching as the reality of what I was about to do set in. At the airport I kept myself busy by getting lost mostly, as well as eventually finding, or rather bumping into, another volunteer called Jo. We then bumped into Caroline, the Platform2 representative who'd be giving us tickets, passports etc.

When, at last, the whole group was congregated in one place we started the checking in procedure. Despite many worries amongst others, all the bags got through without much upheaval and we were in the waiting room. Photos being snapped, fears and excitements being shared, the air was generally positive. However, the plane was delayed and Emma's combination lock decided not to work leaving her bag locked. After grappling with it for a while and passing it between people I managed to open the bag, which I believe was a cause for relief. The lock, however, remained permanently shut.

Finally, after what seemed an age we were called to the plane and we found our seats and stowed our luggage. As we belted in and the plane's wheels left the ground I felt a knotted feeling in the pit of my stomach. Thoughts ran through my mind like a pack of wolves. 10 weeks. It's a long time. And I can't back out now. Will I cope? Will I be good enough? And why is there no leg room in here?

Anyway, the plane journey was hot, sweaty and cramped. And my body clock got all skewed. Being given meals in the middle of the night is bizarre, and then waking up in a country on the other side of the world only enhances the feeling!