Holy Crap-O!

James was very diligently sweeping our front patio last week, when he also decided to get rid of the pile of leaves that had built up behind our gate on the roadside. Twigs and leaves were clogging up the drainpipe there, so he gave that a good brush-out, too. Only something wouldn't budge... (CLICK ON THE PHOTOS! THEY TRULY WILL ENLARGE! OR YOUR MONEY BACK)

This little chappy -- actually, he was a fat old thing -- was desperately trying to get up the pipe. He didn't have much luck; the best he could manage was one leg off the ground before he slid back out. We thought he'd eventually give up and hop off, but a few hours later he was still wedged in there. Just then -- phew! -- a man popped over from the pub (word truly travels fast here...) and rescued the toad in the hole, returning him to a pond across the road.

This is no ordinary warty old amphibian -- or maybe it is. I was told by a Knowledgeable Jersey Bean that although descended from the plain ol' Common Toad, these toads have adapted to their surroundings and so are now a slightly new and improved make and model. However, I just Googled it and discovered (according to the Jersey Zoo) that the Jersey Toad is indeed just the regular version -- but is somewhat unusual in that it only inhabits one of the Channel Islands.

However, also according to the Jersey Zoo, the toad population has been declining steadily in recent years -- so perhaps we were lucky to see this fella trying to make his home in our drainpipe. The Jersey-French word for it is crapaud (pronounced crap-o), although I quite like the scientific name, too... Bufo Bufo. Sounds kinda like a tribal greeting or something.

While we happen to be on the subject of amphibians, but in the unlikely chance that anyone is still reading this, there actually is a native amphibian here in Jersey -- the Agile Frog. And it just happens to reside in only one single place on the Island -- right here in Ouaisne. The Agile Frog is very small and surely quite spry -- while the Crapaud, on the other hand, is rather ungainly and, as you saw in the above photos, not quite so nimble.

Bufo Bufo, goodbye and goodnight.

Beachcombing

After an eventful few days late last week, this week has started quietly -- in fact, super-quietly with more than 12 hours sleep last night for me! Ahhh. Nice.

Last Friday James had to make a statement at the police station; he was interviewed by the policeman who was first "on the scene" on Thursday. Silly, but I was almost slightly offended that they didn't want a statement from me, too, but after hearing James recount the events I was pleased I hadn't needed to! He remembered loads about times, sounds, clothes, positions and other scene details... I really can only remember how I felt -- not much use for the police, I'm sure. I did sit in on the interview, though, and it was interesting to hear about police procedures with this kind of incident. They were also able to tell us about the man -- where he worked etc, and a little about his family. Sadly, he has three sons -- none of whom were actually on the Island when he died. The youngest is 21.

James was informed that there will be an inquest at some point (because a death occurred in a public area) and he may be required to attend and give his statement again. It appears at this stage that it was an accidental death, although the police told us that the postmortem hadn't been done yet. Of course, this being Jersey -- with a population of just 90,000 -- word got around fast and we know people who knew this man. All very sad -- his family must be devastated, especially his kids who were all away at the time.

So we had hoped for a quiet weekend, of course! We were the Hares for the Hash run on Sunday, so we set the trail on Saturday (it's marked with flour, sawdust and chalk) and ran it with the pack yesterday. Pretty sore legs today from all those steep, steep hills and stony beaches.

And that brings me to the "beachcombing" part of this post... We've run on a few beaches now, and it's so interesting what gets washed up on each of them. Or what's naturally found on them. The beach we ran, ok -- limped -- across yesterday was scattered with teeny-tiny bright yellow shells and empty oyster shells. It was also really steep and pebbly rather than sandy. Our beach, on the other hand, is very sandy but steep and stony only immediately beneath the sea wall. At the end near our house you can find all kinds of treasures... but mainly balls! Golf balls and tennis balls so far -- and two 20-pence pieces last week, too (wedged into a rock and totaly sanded smooth). On the beach at St Brelade's Bay, there're wave-tumbled, smooth pieces of coloured glass and lots of pieces of coloured, broken china. Then all the fishing stuff... pieces of net, frayed rope, escaped buoys, chunks of styrofoam... If Jersey was a deserted island I'm absolutely sure you could build something impressive using washed-up junk. Hmm, reality TV idea. It is interesting, though, how certain things wash up only on certain beaches. I suppose it must depend on the weight of the object and the type of beach... or something?

A Sad Discovery

It's midday here and the day didn't start very well. Unfortunately it didn't start at all for someone though. James and I decided to walk up to the gym, which entails a 20-minute walk across the beach (when the tide is out; if it's in, it separates our bay from St Brelade's Bay, so you have to follow the longer, hillier, coastal path) and then a short but very steep 10-minute traipse through a park.

We were coming up the steps that follow a small stream when James spotted a bundle of clothes; he made a joke about a body but almost immediately told me to stop walking. I noticed a shoe, attached to the clothes. James called the police right away and he stayed with the body (we saw right away that he wasn't alive) while I had to go and wait for the police on the road. More than anything it was just incredibly sad. My uneducated guess is that this man, who I think may have been around 60, was walking up the path, possibly last night, and something happened to cause him to fall in to the stream. His head was above water (it's very shallow) but I suppose the water level may have changed overnight.

We walked the same path yesterday afternoon so we know he wasn't there then. He had a little bit of blood on his forehead but otherwise looked as if he had lay down for a sleep really. He was on his side, with his feet pointing downhill, which is why I'm guessing he was walking uphill.

We waited with the police while they checked officially that he was dead. Then they took our details and we were able to leave. Although it was a bit of a shock it just makes me feel so sad for this guy's family, who must have been worried sick when he didn't come home. And if he didn't have a family then it's equally sad that he died all alone. He was wearing some kind of a uniform, so it's possible that he was going to work this morning when something happened.

Maybe if you have a quiet moment today you can send up a little prayer for this man's family and friends. A very sad way to die, I think.

The Parish of St Brelade and How to Escape the Island

Way back in our first post (I think), there's a photo of a Martello Tower -- the big round building painted in red and white (many others are unpainted). Jersey was the only British Isle to be occupied by the Germans during WWII and during the occupation lots of buildings were erected across the island. Hence the Martello Towers, which were essentially watch towers, placed strategically around the coast. The sea wall down where we live, at Ouaisne, was also a German-built structure (technically, it was German-planned but labour-built... by POWs, or Russian concentration camp workers to be exact). All across the island there are half-finished structures; towers, forts, tunnels and walls. Martello Towers are somewhat of a Jersey icon and depending on the light they can look pretty spooky! One or two around the island have been converted to homes or studios, but I think the majority are under Trust ownership (National Trust for Jersey).

Liberation Day: May 9th. It's a holiday, with lots of things happening to commemorate Jersey's freedom down at St Helier. Actually, remember the Hash House Harriers? The very serious, competitive and focussed running group we've joined? Well this year (as in years gone) they will be marshalling the Liberation Day events in town (very seriously of course). No, I have no idea what that entails, although I shall endeavour to brush up on my history facts and street names before then. No use having a tourist ask a tourist for directions.

Well, oops, I've rambled. What I really wanted to tell you was this interesting little fact about Jersey, the thing about Escaping. We walked into town the other day, and James asked me to name the parishes we walked through to get there. There are 12 parishes in Jersey and most of them are named after saints. We live in the parish of St Brelade. So here is how you escaped the Island of Jersey in the old days, when you'd done something terrible such as pilfered an orange from the market stall or suchlike.

(From Jersey Tourism's Walk Guide): THE GREAT ESCAPE

"All 12 parishes in Jersey combine elements of country and coast. And it's thanks to one of the Island's many ancient -- not to say quirky -- laws and customes. In bygone times when a crime was committed, the guilty party was allowed to take refuge in the nearest church for eight days. On the ninth, he or she could chose between a court appearance or self-exile from the Island. Each parish church had to have a safe path to the beach -- known as Le Perquage (many roads still retain this name) -- so that the criminal could walk to a boat. Every parish therefore has its own stretch of coastline, however small."

History lesson over. I just thought it was intersting... The photos above were taken in the parish of St Brelade. I love the weathervane! If you look closely, there are some old women growing out of the flower-bed-boat along with the pansies. The big building is the Salle Paroissiale de St Brelade -- or the St Brelade Parish Hall.

The Picture Poltergeist/Test Post

There's a real post below this... I'm just trying to figure out this technical problem with the photos (enlarging by clicking on) once and for all... Apparently when you click and drag them, the HTML link is broken. La la la, whatever. So... let's see if this works! If you can click and enlarge the car photo (which is also in the post below this), check out the pup -- he was actually winking at me when I took the pic!

A High Tide and the Low Down

Yikes, it's been nearly a week since we last updated! Sorry about that... it's largely due to the fact that our Internet connection is "patchy" (to say the least) -- apparently that's the granite walls doing their thing, which means keeping everything out. Except the cold.

So, what can we tell you? Life on the rock is going well; we are jobless (still -- sigh), but enjoying the sunny spells between the rain (two, since last Friday!) and feeling hopeful that jobs will materialise SOON. James is waiting to hear after two interviews with the same company; and I'm also awaiting a phone call after an interview on Monday... Fingers crossed!

We may have mentioned that we joined a running club (stop your snickers)... It's a group that meets every Sunday to run in a different part of the island. James's dad is the "Grand Master" of the club, and every weekend a couple of different people act as "Hares" and lay the trail the day before the actual run. The point is to lay false trails and loops so that people run off ahead before realising they're on the wrong track (so the trick is to be at the back and let the keen ones do the work!). It's not a serious running club. But it is good fun and it's an excellent way to see the island -- in fact, most weeks you go through private property (with permission, of course), so you actually get to see places that most people won't. If you're brave or interested enough to learn more, go Google "Hash House Harriers". Don't believe everything you read... the history behind the club is really interesting and it's a world-wide organisation (meaning, Jersey is just a small part of the international "club" and therefore not as rambunctious as the other branches!). Please still be our friends once you've discovered the Hash motto, too. Please.

My dad's operation went well. It lasted a little longer than expected and was, unfortunately, delayed several hours to begin with, so I think it was a long day for both my parents. I wish I was at home with them! Dad will need another operation at some point to remove (I might be wrong) his thyroid, too. There is cancer there and also in his lung, I believe. Continued prayers and positive thoughts will be so appreciated! THANK YOU to all of you for leaving comments and sending emails with prayers, thoughts and everything else. Means a lot! Thanks!

We're heading into town shortly -- walking, no less. Yes, it is a sunny, beautiful and wind-less day... hurrah! St Helier is around 3 1/2 miles away from our flat -- all downhill, too. I think I'll take my camera, so expect more photos of a DIFFERENT part of the Island soon! I seem to have only taken photos so far of Ouaisne -- but there's just so much out there that's new and exciting that I can't help it. Bear with me and I'll start venturing further afield soon. (The Hash runs aren't the best time to lug a camera along... my running shoes are still drying out from last Sunday's run and have about six pounds of mud attached).

Two photos taken last night from Portelet Common (the headland directly behind our flat -- a short, steep scramble up the hill!):

Yes, this is our flat again... I thought I should show you just how close we are to the pub! The gap in the white wall is the entrance to our place... the next door up is the pub! They have an open fire going all day; good food; nice staff... see how I mean it might be dangerous?

Here are the Stuarts, enjoying a nice afternoon up at Portelet Common. The only thing we could find to balance the camera on that wasn't wet was a big old granite boulder -- hence the sloped horizon!

It's not so cold that you need a hat. But there are plenty of seagulls. I think they target the tourists:

Not a great photo, but one for the Dog Group! This is the carpark across from our flat, so three guesses where the dog's owner is... At the pub. Drink driving is against the law here, but I'm not sure about having your dog drive you home:

Close-up of the beach as the tide was going out; it makes such cool patterns! Almost looks like an aerial view I think:

We had a bit of a storm last Monday, and the tide came up very high! This photo is of where the road ends outside our place, and turns into the slipway. Look what the waves brought up! Some of those rocks are pretty big:

Travel Advice: Avoiding the Jersey SCANTURS

Urgghh. James and I have both been suffering from SCANTURS. Nasty stuff.

We got so used to those great American roads -- straight, long and often flat. And even when they were neither straight or long nor flat, we were always in a BIG car.

So here we are in Jersey: tiny, narrow, steep, winding, bumpy little roads that are just so picturesque and pretty but UGH they make you sick. And the small cars seem to make it worse; perhaps because your field of vision is more limited. OK, I don't know.

(Today we went to the gym; I was feeling carsick when we arrived... and then we used this fancy new machine called a... um... hmmm... well, you turn it on and it jiggles and joggles and makes you feel like you're being shocked by a very low voltage (for a full minute! Yikes.). You can stand, sit, jump, lean, lie, stretch, walk, break-dance or pirouette on it and it um... well... uh... jiggles and joggles your muscles? I think. Anyway. It didn't help the carsickness.)

So, that travel advice? Stock up on motion sickness tablets if you plan on coming over. And stay away from the jiggle machine.

SCANTURS. Small-cars-and-narrow-twisty-undulating-roads Sickness: It could ruin your holiday.

Headlines: Returned Beans' Weigh-In Horror

Meet Daisy (a pedigree Jersey cow) in person when you visit the Island! (Photo courtesy of bbc.co.uk -- 'cos it's too darn wet and cold to go out and snap one myself)

So we had probably 1/8" of snow yesterday morning... and the island came to a standstill! OK, that's not quite true -- but the bus service was suspended; some schools closed early; people's cars slid all over the place; and our neighbours (that would be the guy who runs the pub, and his wife and kids! They live above the pub, where James grew up) were quite annoyed to hear that the Well Check Nurse wouldn't come down the little road to the bay to see their three-week-old baby.

Naturally, we've been scoffing at this kind of nonsense... Pah! Snow? Let's talk about the RAIN; that's another story. Jersey does rain good. Time to invest in an umbrella again.

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We joined the gym. There was a humiliating moment last Sunday when the in-laws put us on the scales (honestly, they really are rather nice -- the in-laws; not the scales) and I (Sarah) realised quite how much weight I'd put on while living the American Dream. So... we are now fully at peace with the size of our fridge here -- it's smaller than the "mini" fridge/beer fridge we had in the States -- because we're hoping like mad that the size of our kitchen appliances will directly affect the sizes of our bellies. Whaddaya reckon? Wishful thinking?!

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We are missing our American friends considerably; however, we are somewhat perturbed by the lack of vacation itineraries that have been forwarded to us... Who's going to be the first American to set foot on Jersey soil? We are currently in talks with the mayor over the possibility of having some kind of welcoming ceremony at a local meadow, where a Jersey cow (for milking) would be presented to said American. Or we can just take you to the pub. I mean, whatever. The pub's probably a bit warmer than hanging out in some field, but just let us know. We miss you all, anyway. Quite a little lot.

What's This White Stuff?

N.B. Ha! This time you really should be able to click on the photos to enlarge them... I hope!

We just went down to the beach to draw a map of Jersey in the sand for you. Here it is -- the limpet shell is us (Ouaisne), you can also see some waves, and look -- there's the sun! But what's the blurry white stuff?


It's snow!

Snow!

Quite an event actually, and certainly not a yearly occurrence. So here's another picture, just to prove it:

The following photos were taken in and around Ouaisne Bay...

Sorry for not updating over the past few days. I think we set this blog up last Wednesday, and on Thursday we had some bad news. I wasn't going to post about it, as we'd intended this to be our "fun times on the island" blog (ok, or something!) but then I couldn't quite bring myself to post about anything else anyway. So I thought about it, and I realised that bad things happen -- it's not always going to be fun times on the island -- and we don't stop thinking about the bad stuff , so why would I carry on writing on here as usual?

Anyway. My dad found out last week that he has cancer in one of his kidneys. He's scheduled to have the kidney removed on Feb 10th (in NZ) and then we'll know more. In the meantime, perhaps you guys will think some positive thoughts and say a prayer or two... Thanks!

Some of you have met my parents, Sally and George, but for those of you who haven't, here is a photo of them -- with the two Jameses -- at Mesa Verde (Colorado) last year: