Rumble in the ghost town

I was in Christchurch around two years ago the last time I came out to visit mum and dad for Xmas. The city I saw then was virtually incomparable to what now remains. The tv images we saw in the UK don't tell half the story. As we approached the city centre on foot we came across a cool container city where shops, banks and restaurants had all relocated to into converted 40 foot shipping containers. 

We passed about 40 of them hoping to head to cathedral square in the Center. It was then we came across what's known here as "The Red Zone". You can't get in. A perimeter covering virtually all of the city Center district is fenced off with no entry signs everywhere. The view through the cage walls is horrific, truly devastating. 

Everything and I mean literally every building has either been, or is in the process of being demolished. Vacancy signs are still in smashed shop windows, table and chairs still arranged where people would have been sitting eating lunch before everyone picked up and ran for their lives. It's hard not to feel somewhat emotional but at the same time very great full for life having been sat on the other side of that fence under the now unrecognisable cathedral with mum, dad and jess just under 2 years ago. 

We met up with Neil to partake in a red bus tour, the only way you can get into the red zone. A quick safety briefing ends with "whilst every effort has been made to ensure your safety there is the possibility that in the event of another quake you may not survive". The lady then asks "so everyone wants to continue?". Only an idiot would not then realise the risk they were about to take. Sure it's easy to say "well it's not likely to happen to me", but at the back of your mind is a small voice which says..."well it's happened before...and it could happen again..." Undeterred Neil, Nay and I remain determined to witness the devastation first hand. The tour was awesome. 

 

For 40 minutes we cruised around slowly and safely around a city which you would have thought had been totally bombed in a war. We passed the now totally levelled site where the television Center building came down and over 100 people I think lost their lives. Flowers were pinned to the fence in memorial. I remember the news coverage in the UK repeating pictures of the event and making it look like just a few buildings were destroyed. In fact over 900 (yes 900!!) buildings have been so badly damaged that they will demolished and rebuilt. 

The job at hand is unimaginable, and the determination and spirit of all the locals we have spoken to is truly inspiring. They don't dwell on it, the kiwis are "can do" people and are rolling up their sleeves to muck in and rebuild what they have lost. Seriously impressive. That can't be said for everyone however. Over 50,000 people have left the city and an entire generation now refuse to work in or enter high rise buildings. You get a sense when they talk about it that this has had a horrifying but at the same time very humbling effect on their lives. 

After the bus tour we headed a few meters down the road for a hot chocolate. As we reflected on he tour and sipped our drinks Neil said "there's one" and immediately at about 1:35pm the ground began to shake right under us. Lasted maybe 3 seconds and wouldn't have been a scratch on the big one but I'd be lying if I said my heart wasn't racing and that for a split second I didn't think about heading for the door. Neil picked it up as if it was a sixth sense which has no doubt developed after experiencing both the big ones and the many thousand of aftershocks since he's been living here...