Another perfect morning. For the first time in daylight I scanned the view from our Tainan hotel room window, congratulating myself on having asked for the better room. 
Where the fireworks had been launched the previous evening, a family now picnicked along the canal. Who picnics at seven o’clock in the morning? Other hotel guests, if the oversized hotel robes worn by the children were any indication. They probably hadn’t asked for a better room, I thought, smugly.
One or two bicyclists rolled by now and again, enjoying the safe, wide, flat cycling paths. I craned my neck out the window to see how the paths went, but couldn’t see past the first bridge. Frank suggested we use the hotel bicycles – another freebie – but I demurred. While I had come up just fine from the previous day’s ride – a major victory, both physically and psychologically – riding in a big city is a very different thing to riding in a rural setting, bike paths or not. “My next cycling accident is likely to be my last cycling accident” I told him, “and it isn’t going to be today.” Continue reading 03. Dutch Retreat
