Christchurch & Region
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I stared out of the car window, looking for the left-over pieces of an earthquake-destructed city.
All I found in first impressions was reconstruction and a buzzing town vibrating with the energy of recovery. I felt slightly restrained bringing it up with these two quiet men who had picked me up in the wind-tortured Arthur’s Pass but hadn’t talked to me since... but restraint always loses it from my thin verbal filter.
A quick grasp for air, a pondering frown... No, the damage to their house was acceptable. Yes, they did know some of the victims. Most people in the tight community of Christchurch do, as every fellow citizen is only a few connections away in a local society where people now more than ever rely on each other’s support. I felt the quietness become more intense.
All I found in first impressions was reconstruction and a buzzing town vibrating with the energy of recovery. I felt slightly restrained bringing it up with these two quiet men who had picked me up in the wind-tortured Arthur’s Pass but hadn’t talked to me since... but restraint always loses it from my thin verbal filter.
A quick grasp for air, a pondering frown... No, the damage to their house was acceptable. Yes, they did know some of the victims. Most people in the tight community of Christchurch do, as every fellow citizen is only a few connections away in a local society where people now more than ever rely on each other’s support. I felt the quietness become more intense.
22 February 2011 left a permanent mark on Christchurch’s image and collective memory. The effects are traceable in confronting elements of the cityscape, where physical results are turned into emotion-based memorials. The most confronting of all is unquestionably the empty space where the CTV Building once stood, its concrete foundations embellished with photos and flowers reminding of the place where 115 of us lost their lives. On the other side of the road stand the 185 Empty Chairs, every white seat visualizing a person that died on that dark day. Further downtown one can find the official Earthquake Memorial with all the victim’s names engraved in white marble.
* Visit the Quake City Museum if you’re willing to exchange a big stash of money for more in-dept information
Also the well-known Cardboard Cathedral holds a direct relationship to this past event. Naively I assumed the nickname simply referred to its unusual design, but uh-uh: This building is actually resurrected out of cardboard. Only the Japanese can come up with an idea like that... which is why they get hired for the job of constructing a cheap, eco, earthquake-safe transitional house of prayer until the damage to the original one is made undone. It’s certainly not for everyone, but unique in its kind it unquestionably is.
Also the well-known Cardboard Cathedral holds a direct relationship to this past event. Naively I assumed the nickname simply referred to its unusual design, but uh-uh: This building is actually resurrected out of cardboard. Only the Japanese can come up with an idea like that... which is why they get hired for the job of constructing a cheap, eco, earthquake-safe transitional house of prayer until the damage to the original one is made undone. It’s certainly not for everyone, but unique in its kind it unquestionably is.
Heavy stuff. This tragic disaster has brought severe misery, undeniably, but at the same time has cleared space for opportunities. Like the Dutch Rotterdam (was forced to) let go of his historic roots and embrace the modern construction style after Nazi Germany had wiped out the entire city during WWII, Christchurch is now at the early development stage of a rather alternative, bohemian, yet family-friendly urban environment. The thrilling finds of high-quality street art is mere proof of this:
Creativity is particularly festering in the Art Centre, where amidst contemporary coffee-, tattoo-, and barbershops-in-one all the arts come together. A must-visit in this area is the Te Puna O Waiwhetu Art Gallery, housing an impressive blend of traditional Māori and Kiwi art, plus a big chunk of works from European hands. And the best part of all: It won’t cost you a dime.
The free Canterbury Museum is another smash-hit: Basically everything that ever happened on the grounds of Christchurch is captured, collected and exhibited in this ample building. History, geology, archaeology, Māori and settler’s history... Catering for all tastes!
Make sure you allow all this fresh information to settle during a walk through the adjacent botanical gardens, which are extremely well done. Walking enthusiast (me) can from there continue to the lush Mona Vale and Riccarton Bush (farmer’s market on Saturdays!) for a full-on urban nature experience.
I assume after these little cultural enterprises you’re quite museum’ed out, right? Good! That means you’ll have no energy left for CoCa Contemporary Art Centre, which can only work in your favour. About fifty pieces of art they housed on the first floor, I was entrusted, which sounded promising. But it isn’t. Unless you think you can be impressed by a bunch of construction-material-leftovers randomly scattered out over concrete; messy piles of nails and clumsily folded iron wire presented as genuine art in all seriousness. Way to fill a gallery.
I must admit, I had little to zero expectations of Christchurch based on previously heard descriptions of a dull wreckage of a town, missing the bohemian charm of Wellington and lacking the size and opportunities of Auckland... but my personal experiences proofed all of that wrong.
There was so much to do, especially in the surroundings, that I wondered how on earth I was going to fit it all in?!
Luckily, life goes faster when you know a guy called Carlos. As this man has a BMW Convertable (two! – the guy has two!) that brings you everywhere in style and a tad faster than the rest of the population.
There was so much to do, especially in the surroundings, that I wondered how on earth I was going to fit it all in?!
Luckily, life goes faster when you know a guy called Carlos. As this man has a BMW Convertable (two! – the guy has two!) that brings you everywhere in style and a tad faster than the rest of the population.
“New Zealand treats the working class very well”, this fresh immigrant smiled. It wasn’t his material fortune that convinced me to meet this human, I often connect better with the poor... No, I read he comes from Chile and plays sax (and keyboard, guitar and flute). Good, I like Chileans and I especially like Chilean musicians based on some prior experience, and I’m eager to let history repeat itself. It didn’t though... it got exceeded! Proper friend-material.
First destination: Mount Cavendish. Sure, you can go with the touristy gondola. Or you can be awesome instead!
Extra plus: When arriving with a car you can easily explore the surroundings of the stunning Godley Head Farm Park Reserve and the scenic bay of Lyttelton, which are both very hiking-friendly as well. It’s a yes.
An even better idea is the daytrip to Akaroa, where the word ‘picturesque’ lives up to its full essence. A swirling road hides breathtaking scenery at every corner, surprising its spectators with an every-increasing level of natural beauty.
The blue bay sparkles with sunlight, forming the fluid cloak of jumping dolphins on lucky days.
You can stay an hour or the entire afternoon, but you’ll never get used to these sights. Surreal.
The blue bay sparkles with sunlight, forming the fluid cloak of jumping dolphins on lucky days.
You can stay an hour or the entire afternoon, but you’ll never get used to these sights. Surreal.
Carlos and I even ran into the yearly Pumpkin Day in Little River. Yes, can’t make that shit up. I did develop a whole new appreciation of pumpkin scones and pumpkin tapas.
I long back to the evenings filled with sax music and sudden jam sessions, watching Carlos closing his eyes and becoming one with his instrument. To the nights danced away in smoky jazz clubs where low sensual female voices bring back the fifties, people dressed like my young parent’s on black-and-white photographs. To falsely singing along to the tunes of Chico Trujillo with the roof open at traffic lights and watching hammered headbangers at a local metal gig. To beach-pizza and fish ‘n chips without the fish (sad, I know – check the Vegetarian Centre for better ideas).To the art-house movies with burnt popcorn, the naps on a scorched couch next to a mannequin with a 3D-printed penis. I long back to blending in.
I long back to the evenings filled with sax music and sudden jam sessions, watching Carlos closing his eyes and becoming one with his instrument. To the nights danced away in smoky jazz clubs where low sensual female voices bring back the fifties, people dressed like my young parent’s on black-and-white photographs. To falsely singing along to the tunes of Chico Trujillo with the roof open at traffic lights and watching hammered headbangers at a local metal gig. To beach-pizza and fish ‘n chips without the fish (sad, I know – check the Vegetarian Centre for better ideas).To the art-house movies with burnt popcorn, the naps on a scorched couch next to a mannequin with a 3D-printed penis. I long back to blending in.
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