Tween bikes. They're kind of my thing.

Over a month ago, my coworker Christiane offered to let me borrow her daughter's bike while I'm here and I was ecstatic. A bike was the last thing I needed to complete this cozy little life I've adopted in Montreux, and here I would be getting one FOR FREE!

One morning after work, Christiane brought the bike in her station wagon and when I finished my shift at 11am, I helped her unload it from her car so that I could wheel it into the hotel. She had mentioned that her daughter was shorter than me, but whatever, as far as I was concerned, a bike was a bike and that would mean that I had wheels and freedom. Turns out though, the bike is pretty small. Like 12-year-old girl small. However, this only seemed appropriate considering the seafoam green beach cruiser I left behind in San Diego. A tweeny bike named "Daisy," my San Diego ride was a dream for any pre-adolescent girl, and I was the lucky 21-year-old who claimed her. I still remember the first time I rode my old bike down the boardwalk from La Jolla. I had to stop to let some people cross my path and right their coming toward me was Daisy's twin sister, though mounted by a ten-year-old girl wearing pigtails and sporting ruffles on her swim suit. Needless to say, my new bike fits me (metaphorically speaking of course) very well.

So on one of my days off last week, I took Sparkle (temporary name for my new, borrowed mountain bike) on a ride lakeside to the national park in Villeneuve, the next town over. It was a gorgeously sunny day and Sparkle was, well, I think you can guess. We cruised along the Rhone River and through farmland until my butt couldn't handle the seat any longer. Biking was a refreshing change of pace from hiking or running or walking. The cold wind chilling my face, the sound of gearing shifting, and ahhhhh, the option of speed! It was lovely. Not to mention the park itself, which served as the perfect getaway for nature lovers like myself. It was no Glacier National Park, but it still had its charms. Just take a look for yourself!

The beginning of the trail. That's Sparkle on the left. A beaut, isn't she?

My picnic spot looking back at the mountains in Valais.

Just a little port I came across where I watched an old man work on his boat for nearly twenty minutes.

My next project: find a good cushioned seat cover that will save me from future bike pain. The ride back was, hmmm, I'll just say that I had to stop and walk every ten minutes because my butt couldn't handle it anymore. But hey, at least it was a beautiful day! And my butt only hurt for about five days straight afterwards. How does the saying go? "Pain is beauty" or "Beauty is pain" or something like that. Ha, yup. Either way, that it is.