Quake City

​After the 3.5 hours on the road, Vince’s silliness had kicked in, and the Christmas tunes now had an extra layer of karaoke. (This silly alter ego became known as “chaos kea.”) We parked at a public lot in downtown Christchurch near a giant penguin mural, figured out the parking payment app, and reviewed the AirBNB checkin instructions. We were supposed to pick up the “orange key” from a convenience store. The clerk flipped through a binder that had all the colors of rainbow, except ours. It turned out that the cleaning service had missed our apartment. We waited in a semi-enclosed, glass-roofed train station while the AirBNB host sorted it out. Historic street cars rumbled into the station, exchanged a few tourists, and then rumbled out. A giant clock in the shape of a kiwi sitting on an egg was perched above us. When we got into the apartment, it had a great view overlooking the station – we could now see the kiwi clock from above. Our view also included the pastel facades of New Regent street, a nearby pedestrian area.

​With plenty of afternoon light, we set out to explore on foot. We stopped at the original cathedral, still in the thick of its restoration from the 2011 earthquake and covered with scaffolds and cloth. We crossed through the lively CBD to the Botanical Gardens, which were spacious and well maintained. The rose garden was blooming and fragrant. It was a mini paradise, complete with cute ducklings scurrying across lily pads.

​We finished our walk at a food court with tons of international fare. It was cozy and energetic, filled with savory aromas and illuminated signboards. We settled on a Latin American kitchen. Rachel and Vince had burritos, while I had the Cubano sandwich. We agreed they were good but a little different than the ones at home. Our meal was rounded out with a few yuca fries and NZ beers.

Rachel made pancakes for breakfast, pulling it off wonderfully despite a lack of measuring cups. The “chaos kea” also made an appearance, launching the last pancake out of the skillet and across the apartment. It landed fairly close to the target plate on the kitchen table!
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The day’s plan was an outing to the Banks Peninsula, about an hour away from Christchurch. I got a little driving practice on the way out of town, then handed over the keys to Vincent for the more challenging curvy mountain roads. The hike we chose was a little less common, so we stopped at a visitor center in a nearby town for a map. They didn’t have the brochure of interest but were quite chatty.

The Banks Peninsula is volcanic in origin. At its center is a large bay, formed by flooding of the original crater. Our hike was along the Onawe Peninsula, right at the center of this flooded crater. Onawe is considered the volcano’s plug – a giant stopper of hardened magma. If that wasn’t enough mystique, it was also the site of a Maori fort (called a “pa”) where a bloody battle was fought between tribes.

​We crossed a rocky strip of land that was exposed by the low tide, passing orange and brown swirled rock formations. The trail then ascended a wide grassy lawn that seemed out of place. Finally, it looped around the main hill, including some forested stretches. There were good views of the boats in the harbor, including the colorful boathouses on the shore.

​Departing the small parking lot, we thankfully didn’t encounter any cross-traffic on the unpaved one lane connector to the main road. We continued driving along the edge of the bay to the town of Akaroa, often hyped up for its French heritage but at its core a charming seaside town. A statue of a Hector’s dolphin, the small and rare dolphin found in the area, marked the storefront of a tour agency. On the pier, groups of terns squawked in protest as we passed, resettling on the other side. Akaroa was also our long-awaited opportunity to try the New Zealand style fruit ice cream. A giant spiral drill was used to mix frozen fruit into ice cream, creating a pretty (and sturdy) swirl, packed with crunchy crystals of fruit. It was simple and excellent!

I napped on the drive back, but I know it wasn’t an easy one. In return, I cooked a coconut curry dinner. The fridge was too cold and had frozen the pak choy, but the curry was forgiving of this. We settled into our usual evening planning and research. The mattress hadn’t been comfortable the previous night, so I tried sleeping partially upright in an armchair, which worked out better.
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For our last day in Christchurch, we gladly left the rental car behind and walked around town. Vincent and Rachel had a few clothes to donate, and we found a shop that would take them. We returned to the botanical garden for more horticultural immersion. There was a set of greenhouses with different climates, from desert to tropical, with unique plants around every turn. I liked the carnivorous pitcher plants and the amazing variety of leaves – some with multiple colors, some that were fenestrated (with windows), and others with variegated patterns that could have inspired latte art.

Speaking of lattes, I stopped for one at a quiet corner café, also adding a meat pastry as a snack. The friendly waitress ended up bringing two pastries, and said it was to make up for the delay (though it wasn’t a long wait). The pastries were covered with a sweet and sour sauce and were surprisingly good. The café was conveniently located across the street from our next stop, the Quake City museum.

​In 2010 and 2011, Christchurch experienced several earthquakes that dramatically changed the city’s identity. Iconic buildings came tumbling down, the death toll accumulated in now-infamous structural failures, cliffs collapsed, and the land experienced liquefaction. The Quake City exhibits were succinct and educational, with explanations of the magnitudes, live footage from the street, info about how search and rescue teams operate, and interactive scientific displays on liquefaction. One of the best things at the museum was a set of interviews with Christchurch residents. The first video was focused on their acute experience surviving the quake; the second video was a follow-up 10 years later. The citizens’ descriptions painted a vivid picture: the stifling dust, the eerie soundscape of alarms (and the silence behind them), of running across bridges while fearing aftershocks, of searching for family members, only to find them helping others in need. The follow-ups were equally profound: one had recovered from injuries and was starting to work a modest amount, a police officer found himself tangled in yet another tragedy with the 2019 mosque shootings, another felt like Christchurch had lost its sense of identity, comparing its loss of historical continuity to Alzheimer’s. The videos both ended with two girls singing a song of hope, but the unsettling reflections still lingered.

​The rest of the afternoon, we poked around shops in the CBD and briefly visited the “cardboard cathedral” that is set up as a temporary substitute. It was quite pretty with its stained-glass windows and large Christmas tree, though perhaps it was embellished in my mind by the symbolism of resilience. We also strolled through the restaurants of New Regent St, the pedestrian area near our place.

​Vincent and Rachel packed for their early flight while I made a simple pasta dinner. I also tried two low alcohol beers, chosen for the label – one with a kiwi and one with a kea. It was nice to have an IPA with only 2.5% ABV for a change. The clouds at sunset were visible through the window, and at night, so were the colorful lights of New Regent St.

​The two of them were up, “dark and early,” for their pre-booked Uber ride to the airport. We bid each other farewell – only a temporary goodbye, as the plan was to reconvene in Tasmania a week later. I returned to my blanket cocoon and donned the usual eye mask, in anticipation of the early sunrise.