Poor Christchurch

According to the Quake Museum, 80% of all buildings in Christchurch's Central Building District will have had to be demolished as a result of the earthquake. And you can see that. During our walk from the Motel, the vacant lots, cranes, scaffolded buildings and dug up pathways grew more frequent until in the centre it just looked like one giant building site. Really depressing - especially nearly six years after it happened (22nd February 2011). The tragic symbol of the quake was the destruction of Christchurch's loved Cathedral spire and rose window - having seen how a hundred year old ordinary house gets its own brown tourist sign ("Historic Site 300m"), we could better appreciate how important this genuinely old and majestic building was to the city. And now there is a raw, gaping hole where that end facade used to be, with hoardings and wire fencing, and piled up rubble - it looked like it happened last week, not years ago.

The Quake Museum, not far from Cathedral Square, was depressingly good - I wasn't sure there would be enough to see on what seemed a simple, single issue; but what it brought home was the terrible complexity of the problems the quake presented: loss of power for days; the destruction of 300km of underground pipes, meaning (as the mayor said at the time) that Christchurch's sewer system was "seriously munted" (chemical toilets and portaloos for weeks); it needing 6 months to take down just one building floor by floor; plus of course the horrors of local versus central government versus private finance, leading to enormous delays for rebuilding; and the even worse horrors for individuals of dealing with insurance companies; let alone what they called "quake anxiety" (we noticed a lot of posters up on hoardings talking about the need to share smiles and support friends and family). 

But on the positive side, there were displays of ingenious solutions: nearly all houses have now taken their chimneys down, as it was a 2-3 tonne weight of bricks to fall on someone, so they've created brick-looking chimneys around a metal frame to look right but weigh less; similar facades are being used to rebuild old stone buildings so they are more resilient; and they showed videos of some amazing "shock absorbers" to be built into the foundations of buildings. And the human interest stories: the Student Army that mobilised to attack "liquefaction", the pools of silt that seeped above ground everywhere; and a brilliant compilation of cartoons that illustrated in the most visceral way the issues and pain resulting from the quake. It was really good, and very moving. But Jemima liked the table filled with white Lego best, where you could design your replacement Cathedral - we each did a little building, before we had to drag her away.

There were, however, some wonderful bits to Christchurch despite the desolation. They have made a bit of an effort with public art to brighten up the wasteland areas, the most successful of which was the colourful flag wall in Cathedral Square, which did (as intended) bring warmth and movement to the grey depressingness (although Kevin and I were surprised they hadn't done more, actually). And there was the Container Shopping Mall, which was the solution to help central businesses reopen as soon as possible - appropriately called Re-Start. It was the first lively place we'd found, with banks, shops, and cafes all in converted, brightly painted shipping containers, and people bustling about (we had an excellent wood-fired pizza lunch). 

But the jewel in the Christchurch crown is the Botanic Gardens. We walked in past some traditionally, garishly planted beds - "just like the Abbey Gardens!" said Jemima (and of course, that was the point - to remind the expat 19th century resident of their English home). But then there was so much more: the pretty river snaking around the edge (with punts!); a long Mediterranean border; landscaped lawns with enormous monumental trees; a beautiful rose garden; a playground and pool; and all the bits we didn't see: a water garden, a New Zealand garden, glasshouses, a magnolia walk - it went on and on. And it was immaculate (unlike Christchurch, the first place in NZ where we've seen litter, another part of unloved-ness); and the plants and trees were huge and healthy: it was full of life, and felt life-affirming. An amazing oasis among the destruction.

After a lovely wander, feeling a lot better, we walked back to the motel for a Thai takeaway from the container round the corner, past the bright neon sign outside the art gallery flashing "everything is going to be alright". The Botanic Gardens gave us hope that might be true; the rest of Christchurch, sadly, less so - or at least not for a long time yet.