Every day's decision tree starts out as a cloud of possibilities that change with the terrain¹, the weather², the points of interest³, and the traffic level⁴.

Today's destination was originally going to be a town named Hainan⁵. It was within my range and I was amused. Of course, that range presumes that I don't start the day with a flat tire or that the local bike shop⁶ isn't interesting enough with stories of his own Tours that I don't start biking until 3pm.

I pick a different location and tell my GPS to send me there. Then, passing a McDonald's and deciding I'm feeling the need for some junk food, I change my destination again while eating my fries. Changed a third time after the closest thing I'll have all day to a point of interest turns out to be a combination of the sort of Tourist Temple I never visit, an upscale housing development, and the round the edges bits of countryside that are rough and tumble and actually have character.

Buying some fresh water chestnuts from a guy who harvested them from the weir pond down near the canal, I change my destination for a fourth time, only to reverse my decision when going to the bathroom and getting a water refill at a petrol station just past the edge of a "historic" town that looks like it was Ye Olde -ified twenty years ago and has never actually succeeded at being somewhere tourists go.

Now I'm on big, flat, straight roads that—if not for the very occasional level crossing—would be expressway grade anywhere else and I think, if I'm not going to actually get any scenery, there's no reason for me not to pull out my headlight if I'm out of the streetlight zone once darkness falls.

So, I book a room in Hainan.

Dumpling dinner from a friendly restaurant that offloads an absurdly large melon (which they grew themselves!) on me, the diagonal crossing to Hainan as opposed to going due north actually gets me a hint of what might be scenery. Not that I can see it in the darkness but I can feel it out there on the edges beyond the limits of my light and it makes me happy.

When I get to Hainan, after a sojourn on another trunk road (which is both narrower than the one I spent most of the day on, and perversely, more heavily trafficked), the hotel first claims to have not received my reservation, then — when I say I can no longer cancel it free of charge — decides to upcharge me by 20y "because those online prices are too low and we can't make a profit" that I vow to deal with later because it's past 10pm and all I really want is a shower and sleep.

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¹ Not that Jiangsu apparently has any

² Not that I can complain about the damp considering the flooding the storm is causing elsewhere

³ Another thing that Jiangsu doesn't seem to have much of

⁴ Which, despite the wide roads and generous bike lanes favored by local governments, seems to mostly be boats 

⁵ Unlike Taizhou and Taizhou, Suzhou and Suzhou, or Shanxi and the pinyin-breaking Shaanxi, this Hainan is spelled the same as the Hainan where I come from.

⁶ Although they are both located on a street of shops selling two wheeled objects, the highly professional Merida next door to the far less professional (but five times larger) Giant seems to bother the Giant on account of existing. Considering what I've seen in other cities (including Haikou), where upstart Cyclists who were fostered into Biking by the Giant and who went on to be better are absolutely despised by the owners of Giant bike shops who can't seem to understand why the people buying expensive stuff don't want to buy it from them, I'm increasingly making a point of never choosing a Giant if another brand is available.