My impression on initially walking the downtown core of this famous city was that I thought that it looked alright until closer examination proved
me wrong as my eyes swept over buildings and roadways more carefully. That hotel is completely split in the middle, I noted. A building would seem intact and the building beside it would be shored up, windows would still be smashed in others, signs of recent repair and then teetering street signs, steeples tilting, pavement heaving in places like a funhouse gone awry. I get it, I said to myself, I get it. It seemed to be encapsulated by a sign I saw that said- the heart of Christchurch is broken but still beating. That is how it felt to me as well. Later my host, Jeanette, drove me through the streets and talked of what it looked like before and after. We got out and walked. She showed me a second story restaurant that still at this moment has plates with meals sitting on it from that fateful day, entry to it barred and unsafe. Peering through the window I could make out the dishes sitting there. She mentioned that people had just walked away leaving their keys and jackets when the quake started. We walked down the downtown main street where several cranes were working even although it was clearly well into the evening. Enormous metal crates, resembling train box
cars had been brought in and new businesses were re-establishing themselves in them, their bright colours giving the street a cheerful air. Flowers were out in planters and past chicken wire with keep out signs, older buildings were awaiting their fate. Some historic structures that might have survived , the subsequent quakes completed the structural weakening. We drove past a church that had the steeple sitting upright on the ground beside it. On the sidewalks were tents with restaurants and where groceries could be purchased as well as other businesses. Jeanette commented that streets that were closed on her last visit had been reopened and she was happy to see that as it helped with understanding the flow of traffic, one did not quite know where streets would stop and start. Clearly the historic colleges by the River Avon were also shored up, lovely old buildings also awaiting their fate. I could see this city had once been a thriving and interesting place but I had made up my mind. I was only going to stay here one night. I returned to my room after dinner out and was sitting on my chair writing my daughter when the shaking started. My chair is moving I said calmly to myself. I waited. After awhile it seemed to subside but not before the whole room shook. How do people do this, I asked myself. The following morning I awoke happy to be in one piece and checked the earthquake site. There it was; a 4.6, with the epicenter very close. I checked out and mentioned to the hotel owner that that was a 4.6 last night. He looked at me from under his brows and gave me a sheepish smile. “That was a deep one, a real good one.” “I don’t have a lot of basis for comparison,” I replied. “Er”, I continued, “Wishing you all the best with everything. I am not sorry to be catching the bus out.” He smiled at me ruefully. As the miles between myself and Christchurch increased we headed across the Canterbury planes into the mountains. It was several hours before I relaxed.