What a Difference a Day Makes

We’re two for two. First Cairo and now Christchurch. We feel like “disasters r us.” We landed in Christchurch, New Zealand after a long flight from Singapore to discover Christchurch to be a charming, small city with a British feel owing to its history. Christchurch looked jubilant with mounds of colorful flowers blooming their hearts out – roses, hydrangeas, geraniums, and an array of bedding plants. The city has the feel of a distinguished college campus – similar to Duke University –as people walked and biked past brownstone, Tudor-style buildings with their high pitched roofs, Gothic windows, and intricate spires. In the center of the city the historic cathedral dominated Cathedral Square. We arrived during the annual flower show so the front of the cathedral was decorated with an archway of flowers. And there was a carpet of flowers down the middle of the nave inside. As we approached the square the carillons in the tall spire chimed their tune filling the square with ringing. The city loves its British roots. (According to our local tour guide, the British settlers arrived over 200 years ago in a “wee boat.”) The Avon river meandered slowly through the center city with green grass and graceful willow trees draping the river. The Bard pub was on one corner and The Oxford on the Avon restaurant occupied another. We spent a stunning, blue-sky day walking all over the city – through the historic, Tudor-style Arts Center directly across the street from our hotel, visiting the Canterbury Museum, and strolling along the river for coffee at the historic Antigua Boat Shed. Our highlight was punting on the Avon. The Avon River is very shallow and clear. Punting is accomplished by boarding canoe-like boats that are very shallow. A punter uses a long pole to push the boat along the river. We floated – or punted – under arched bridges with decorative scroll-work railings, under willow branches and past old brown stone buildings from the 1800s. Our punter kept up a running commentary which included discussion of the 7.1 earthquake that hit Christchurch last September. It caused substantial damage to many buildings in the city, but, he told us, another "big one" is predicted sometime soon. Prophetic words.

The next morning we left for the small coastal village of Akaroa to swim with the dolphins. As we sat in a tiny café having lunch before the boat ride, we felt quivering and heard low rumbling. It’s amazing how quickly thoughts flit through your head. Later Mike and I realized that we were thinking the same things. Our first thought was – are we still on the Orient Express with all this rocking? Next thought – no, this is an earthquake. Next thought – it can’t be that bad or last long. Wrong. Very wrong. For us, the 35-40 seconds of shaking were enough to realize what was happening but not enough time to act. Mike noticed the cars moving in the parking lot. I was fixated on the rocking book case and wondering if it would hit Mike if it toppled over. About the time my brain engaged enough to say – let’s move – the shaking stopped and the power went out. Everyone inside looked at each other as if to say, “Was that what I think it was?” But all seemed to be okay at least initially. A shop keeper was the first to say that what we’d experienced was small, but Christchurch had a significant quake. Hummm. Crowds of people began to cluster into groups outside. Some listened to a car radio and others gathered around a battery-powered radio outside the visitor center. The grim picture began to emerge.

The quake was 6.3 – smaller than the September quake – but it was closer and, importantly, near the surface. Rumors emerged about significant damage to many buildings downtown such as the cathedral and office buildings. Roads were closed and people were being evacuated.

It’s the strangest feeling – all the thoughts that converge at once – some noble and some not. Unfortunately, we’re beginning to become experienced at travel during emergency conditions. We focused first on practicalities like buying water and snacks – a good lesson from Cairo - particularly since we heard reports of broken water lines and water quality problems. Next we wondered about transportation. Would we be able to return to Christchurch on the bus that afternoon or would all the roads be closed. And if we made it back to Christchurch, would our hotel still be standing. Visions of sleeping in the tour van or in the park (the emergency center) flashed through our eyes. We’d slept in the Cairo airport, why not a van or a tent? Even as we were sorting out our predicament, we were increasingly conscious of the depth of destruction. Buildings had collapsed on top of tour buses, people were trapped inside damaged or collapsed buildings. Phones were down so that locals (like our bus driver) could not reach family members. In the face of such serious problems, it felt trivial to spend a moment worrying about our issues, but we needed to deal with our practicalities while being sensitive to the troubles of others.

The atmosphere was grave and uncertainty hung over the huddled crowd. No one knew what to do or what to expect. We boarded our bus (our bus driver finally reached his wife to find that she and their home were okay) and headed for Christchurch not knowing how close we’d be able to get to anyone’s hotel or even if the hotel would be there. We drove past beautiful coves and over hills dotted with black and white dairy cows and fluffy sheep. The calm beauty was not enough to divert troubled thoughts crowding our minds. About 6km from Christchurch we began to see damage.

Cracks appeared in the roadway and muddy humps like large ant hills splayed out alongside the road. This was liquefaction. The normally stable fine-grained soils became like quick sand when moist and shaken. The material oozed to the surface leaving empty space under sidewalks and roadways that then cave in. Water ran down streets from water line breaks. Buildings already boarded up from the first earthquake were now piles of rumble. Brick walls were sprawled into the street. Cars lined up at any open gas station hoping to fill their tanks before the nearby damaged Lyttleton port was closed. For the second time in two weeks, we saw a convoy of army vehicles rolling down city streets.

After much maneuvering, our driver got us into the vicinity of downtown. We had to walk from there. Our hotel, the Classic Villa, was literally three blocks from Cathedral Square in the heart of the damaged area. We could only hope that we’d be able to get close. The more we walked the more the damage escalated. Huge cracks in the pavement were encircled by orange cones. The large willow trees were missing branches two feet in diameter. The quiet, clear river was now swollen and muddy. It was unnerving. But it was nothing compared with what was coming. First was the sight of Canterbury Museum. The façade had broken stones and the statue in front was toppled off its base leaving the head smashed. We turned the corner of our street to face the Arts Center directly across from our hotel. We’d eaten dinner at a charming restaurant there on our first night. The façade was in shambles. Stones from the tall gabled roof were shattered on the pavement below covering tables, chairs and umbrellas. gabled end was completely gone exposing the inside of a room and clothes hanging inside. Farther along a side of an adjacent building had collapsed. All of these were 1800-era buildings that provide the charm to Christchurch. We walked past army vehicles as far as we could but were stopped at the river where the day before we’d gone punting. From there we could see the cathedral. The gabled end with its rose window seemed fine until we realized that the tall spire was quite simply missing. Gone. Yesterday, its bells chimed over the crowd and today it was rubble. I can only imagine the horror of those who were in the square as it fell. Mike remembered that he videoed the chiming bells less than 48 hours ago. We replayed that video and listened with sadness as we struggled to comprehend that these sounds and the happy buzz of people were silent.

Feeling oddly empty and stunned we returned to our hotel. Cracks ran alongside the exterior and we stepped over brick rubble from the collapsed chimney of the next door building. But – joy! – the house was open, people were inside and our room was largely unharmed (tilted mirror, plaster dust from cracked walls, dislocated shower door). And, we’d be able to stay there overnight. There would be no sleeping in the makeshift tents erected in the park.

And so began a most unusual evening. Others arrived and gathered in the large living room. Our proprietor, Peter, was there and was more concerned about caring for us than attending to his damaged, but still safe, house. Decorative items inside and out were in pieces, bottles of alcohol had been thrown into the floor and smashed. Most of it had been cleaned up by the time we arrived. There was no power so he was busily placing candles on the floor all around the dark house. The only other lights were from flashlights and camera flashes. No restaurants were open nor were there operable cooking facilities in the house. Everyone pitched in. We’d bought trail mix, Peter and his wife, Jan, put out cheese and crackers, someone else made a salad with smoked mushrooms, and, thankfully, Peter provided wine. I was VERY happy for a glass – or two – of wine. Everyone had a story and everyone was uneasy. One couple was in the Arts Center as it began to come apart. I was glad we had been outside of Christchurch. We’d surely have been downtown like all the others.

We shared stories, ate what we had, drank wine and Peter played the piano. It was almost enough to distract from the aftershocks. Peter and Jan stayed up for awhile waiting for other guests to arrive and to settle them in as much as possible. Before going to bed, he played one last tune on the piano and Jan sang while candles burned peacefully on the floor even as after shocks shook the house. How hopeful to hear a cheery, “Que sera, sera; whatever will be will be,” fill the living room as the floor quivered and windows vibrated.

Mike and I went to bed but with the first strong aftershock the room rocked, the window rattled, and, afterward, the coat hangers in the closet jangled a high-pitched, tinkling sound. It was eerie. The next aftershock shot me out of bed. I felt more stable in the new part of the house rather than in our room in the original section. So, I curled up on the sofa under a fuzzy blanket, wearing my robe and shoes, and holding a flashlight. Candles glowed, rain splattered outside, and I tried to sleep. But each after shock racked my nerves, and they came every quarter to half hour throughout the night. Five times they were so strong that I jumped up and ran into the center of the room away from all windows. Needless to say, sleep was elusive. But that’s okay. Mike and I were better off than many. People – perhaps hundreds – were buried in buildings a few blocks away. Thousands were in the makeshift refuge camp across the street in the park – shivering in cold, crowded tents. We heard stories the next day of residents bringing clothes and offering spare bedrooms to stranded tourists who were unable to return to their hotel rooms even to get luggage. We met three people on our bus the next morning who were traveling with only the clothes they had on as their hotel was in the city center and was inaccessible.

I told Mike, I’ll take Cairo over this. At least in Cairo, we were not the target of violence or anger. No one wanted to see tourists like us hurt. Tanks were there to keep peace but also to ensure protection. Even though we could hear gunshots, none of it was directed at us. As long as we stayed out of the way, the chances were good that we’d be okay. This earthquake was a completely different situation. It did not discriminate, nor could we get out of the way. It would hit when and where it did and all we could do was hope that we weren’t there.

Between Cairo and Christchurch we’ve learned a few things about being in crisis situations. The first is patience. You just don’t know – nor does anyone else – what will happen in the situation. There’s no use getting excited or frustrated. Everyone is doing their best. And that’s the other thing. You have to rely on the kindness of complete strangers. How many times have we seen unfortunate things in the newspaper, thought, “Oh, so sad,” and turned the page? But it’s real – very real. And many of those people will get through their day because of the stranger who stops on the street to help them. And finally, I learned that you can only take work through it one step at a time – and that’s sufficient. Crisis situations are filled with unknowns – so many that you can’t sort out the future direction. Sometimes all that’s possible is to do what seems right at that moment; get to the next place; evaluate; and make the next choice. Advance planning is a nice theory but it doesn’t work when situations are completely filled with unknowns.

Mike and I have also learned that true customer service shines through in a crisis. We experienced it in Cairo and we saw it again here. Peter and his family suffered damage in their personal home; Peter’s daughter burst into tears when she found him at the Classic Villa; and yet they stayed in the Villa with us that night. Food, wine, song and words of comfort are not on their brochure, but that’s what we got. And, you know, it helped.

We are now safely away in Queenstown but the impact of this earthquake remains with us in many ways. Each rumble or creak we hear makes us fear another quake. But more importantly, we are touched by the immensity of what happened to all these people. It took several hundred years for Christchurch to become the charming town we experienced. It took a few seconds to turn it to rubble and destroy lives, families and livelihoods. The people of Christchurch, along with others from around the world, are already clearing away the debris and moving on. It will be day by day, but - what a difference a day can make.

Mike says everything comes in threes. We leave New Zealand for Honolulu in about a week. Let the wagering begin on the likelihood of a volcanic eruption while we’re there!