Day 1 of my annual trip to Taipei needs a bike ride to reorient myself and clear the jet lag. But of all the sights, smells and sounds of the ride my memory is captured by a little girl and her grandad, grabbing the space at the side of a small park to go through the rite of passage we have all shared.

Guided by a caring hand.

Getting up after the fall.

And then she goes.

It is a truth the world over.  You never forget your first bike ride. She didn’t stop smiling, and neither have I since. In this busy city it was a quiet moment of joy to be shared.