The following morning I continued my journey towards Yen Bei - the meeting point with Seb. My whole left side had taken a hammering - even if the fall had been at a relatively low speed - probably 15-20 kilometers. My left knee was twice the size of my right, an open cut in the middle of it, my left arm had cuts and bruises. Despite panzer-glass, my Apple Watch was completely destroyed, having left an “Apple Watch” imprint on my left wrist, which took ages to heal. I am so glad I believe in the so-called ATGATT principle - all the gear all the time! No matter the weather, rain or shine, 10 or 40 degrees, ALWAYS full dress, Goretex pants and jacket, gloves, boots and helmet. I don’t even want to think at the consequences if I hadn’t. I knew the cuts and bruises would heal with time - no problem there. What really worried me was my total lack of appetite. Apart from water and 2 bananas that I had forced down, I had eaten absolutely nothing for 5 days, by the time I arrived at Mountain Breath Homestay. The place was run by a 65 year old Vietnamese man, who had returned to Vietnam 4 years earlier, after 40 years in Canada, and his young (35 year old) Vietnamese wife. It was great to be able to explain my situation to a person who understood me perfectly. He took one look at me, and suggested that we go together to the hospital clinic, first thing in the morning. Seb had arranged a boat trip on the nearby lake, but I simply did not have the energy to join him. He left the following day, on my insistence, to continue his journey for another 4 days, until his return flight from Hanoi to Germany. The next morning I followed Phuong on my bike, arriving at the hospital 30 minutes later. With Phuong as interpreter I quickly got seen to - blood tests, scans, x-rays. After that I had to wait for 3 hours until the results of the blood test were back. Verdict: food poisoning. I walked out of the hospital with a bag of 9 different pills, powders and liquids, and followed Phuong back to Mountain Breath, certain that I was now on my come-back trail. Back at the homestay, I started googling the various medications I had been given - even for a medical ignoramus like me, much of it didn’t make sense. Some of the stuff was aimed at children! I decided not to take 4-5 of the items they had given me, and at that point lost confidence in the treatment and diagnosis they had given me at the clinic. The following 4-5 days went by in a haze - apart from sticking my head out of the door a couple of minutes, I slept much of the time, hoping and praying that the tide would turn. Phuong - the most helpful, gentle and friendly Vietnamese man you could wish to meet - knocked on my door from time to time, to see if I was improving. He brought me bananas, and noodles - to no avail. At one point I decided - in my weakened state - that I would be able to drive the 1700 km back to Saigon in 150km stages, to catch my plane back to Denmark, 2 weeks later. Absolutely lunacy! Anyway, that evening I told Phuong that I would leave early the following morning, before it got too hot, and drive 150 km south to a place called Hoa Binh - my first leg towards Saigon. That evening at my hotel room - with me feeling weaker and weaker - I decided to call Jonny, the Australian guy I had rented my motorcycle from, and a partner in Style Motorbikes. I had a chat to him at Style in Hanoi where my Honda was serviced, and liked his “matter of fact” way of dealing with things. He had lived in Hanoi for 8 years, and knew his way around. Having put him into the picture, he immediately suggested that I get myself, soonest possible, to The French Hospital Hanoi. They would sort me out, he guaranteed. As he said: “A bit expensive, but they know what they are doing. Don’t mess around”. The following morning early, I climbed onto my bike, and drove the 120 kilometers into central Hanoi, straight to The French Hospital, parking my bike at the underground facility at the hospital. A few minutes later, I was at the admissions desk. After checking my insurance (I carry a letter in English, explaining that my Danish insurance company will pay for any and all expenses incurred in connection with admission and treatment) I could see a doctor. Unfortunately, the hospital was not familiar with my Danish insurance company “Tryg”, and I was required to pay myself a deposit of 25.000.000 Dong ($1.000), before any further action could take place. After payment, I was immediately presented to one of the French doctors at the hospital, who thoroughly, professionally, and patiently went through my medical history and what had been happening the past 8-10 days from when I had lost my appetite. Seeing the report from the other hospital, and the medicin they had prescribed, his comment was “this doesn’t make sense. I hope you didn’t take the medicine they gave you”!! After several blood tests, stool and urine samples, scans and X-rays I got the results. Food poisoning, possibly a virus or parasite. I was admitted immediately, and taken to my room, where I would remain on an IV drip for 3 nights, 4 days. I cannot say enough good about the French Hospital Hanoi - the treatment was superb, the nurses competent and professional, the food outstanding (they are French after all, and I got to choose breakfast, lunch and dinner from a proper menu with many choices). Already the first day in hospital I felt better, and had my first proper meal in 11 days (spaghetti bolognese!!). Day by day I gained strength, and after 4 days, I told the good doctor that I was feeling guilty taking up one of his beds. There were still a few “check points” in my blood that weren’t completely in line, but he could see I wanted to get back on the bike again. After some “anti worm” pills, a few sachets of electrolyte drink and a 5 day supply of pro-biotic I was let loose. The insurance had in the meantime been sorted out - in Asia, Tryg works through a local agent called Care of Asia, well known to the hospital. The total cost was approximately $1500 for everything. I cannot describe the feeling of excitement I had in my spirit, when I took the lift down to the basement, where my faithful Honda was waiting patiently for me. I was on the mend - had escaped a place I never want to find myself in again. I pointed the Honda towards Ninh Binh, about 3 hours south of Hanoi. My journey south could begin again.