We woke up to beautiful views, the bay shining gently in the morning sun outside the motorhome windows. We moved to park up in town, and after an amazing croissant (Jemima and I agreed the best we'd ever had, those French settlers had their uses), I did my packing while Kevin and Jemima went to the playground, and then he did his while Jemima and I went for a walk. And then a combination of circumstances resulted in a horrible near miss: it could have not been near at all, if things had been different; or it could not have been a miss, which doesn't bear thinking about.
Anyway, just as Jemima and I were heading back to the van (parked on the main road through town), Kevin emerged on the opposite side of the road looking for us, asking about something to do with packing. So he and I (foolishly) ended up having a conversation across the street. And I (distracted) let go of Jemima's hand. And Jemima (excited to see her Daddy), ran across the road straight in front of a large pick up. Thankfully he was alert, slammed on his brakes, and he didn't touch her; and we all ended up very shaken in a family cuddle safe on the other side of the road; but it all could have been so different: if she'd run out later so he didn't have time to stop; if he hadn't been looking. In that moment our lives could have changed irrevocably. But thank god, they didn't. And we drove out of town together, safe, and very grateful to be so.
An easy drive to the outskirts of Christchurch; a final stop to empty the tanks before returning the van; plus a late lunch (and me determinedly finding people to give the last of our food to); and then we said goodbye to the motorhome - a much easier and friendlier process than collecting it; loaded our (many) bags into an Uber and we were off to our Christchurch Motor Lodge.
There was still a slight shadow over the day after our shock in the morning (for Kevin and I anyway- Jemima seemed completely fine); and it felt like this was reflected in the scene outside: our chatty taxi driver grew subdued we asked him about the 2011 earthquake, pointing out the many vacant lots where there had been buildings; and explaining the gaps in the Christchurch skyline. It didn't help that it was a bank holiday, so everything was shut; or that our Motor Lodge was on the edge of a road he laughingly pointed out was famous for prostitutes. But the city did look forlorn, with so many unproductive spaces, and so much scaffolding around the buildings left. I'd never thought about it, but the damage of the earthquake was far more than just those buildings that fell down during the actual earth movement: all buildings over 7 stories have been taken down under new rules; and so many more that were just damaged have had to be taken down for safety too, with a huge impact on businesses and residents - it's so much more widespread than I'd thought. (And the lack of air conditioning when we arrived, on a very hot day, certainly didn't help the mood - a bad booking mistake.)
Things didn't improve that much when we went out, grubby but hungry, to get dinner. A Thai was supposed to be around the corner, so we went there, to find a container restaurant (following the earthquake lots of restaurants and businesses used repurposed shipping containers), brightly painted with pictures of Thailand - but sadly firmly shut up (that bank holiday again). So we walked through the weirdly empty streets to the restaurant road - to find most of them closed; and the few that were open either full, or only offering high stools for seating, so not ideal for Jemima. It was all getting a bit farcical, but persistence paid off, and in the end Kevin found us a haven: a lovely Thai, with a wonderful welcome, colouring for Jemima, Singha beer for Kevin, Riesling for me, and great food (Jemima loved her satay). After quite a day, it was a good moment - and only enhanced by the wonderful reaction of the staff to Jemima's Thai, which obviously made me very happy. All's well that ends well (despite the lack of air conditioning).
Morning views:
Yum!:
No comments:
Post a Comment