22 to 24 February 2011

Emotions have a funny way of sneaking up on you.  Or at least on me.  This happened when Stephen, our host for our every visit to Christchurch over the past 3 months, opened the door to greet us, 24 hours after the deadly earthquake that changed his city forever.  I stuffed back tears as he gave us each a big, welcoming bear hug, unexpected tears of relief that he and his family were fine, despite living 6 km (3 miles) from Lyttleton, the epicentre of Tuesday’s disastrous earthly activity.

Twenty-four hours earlier, we were hiking the last kilometre of the Banks Peninsula Track, popping us out in the village of Akaroa, about 1.5 hours drive south of Christchurch.  And we didn’t feel it.  Hard to believe, given the massive shaking that hit this region as well, but we honestly didn’t feel a thing.  Maybe because we were walking rapidly downhill, a scampering descent to avoid the afternoon drizzle and knee-fatiguing incline.  Maybe because we were plotting and planning out loud – a typical mode these days – and couldn’t hear the coming rumble over our voices and rain jacket hoods.  But I suppose the why doesn’t matter.  As we walked and talked and planned our afternoon activities – a flat white followed by filling up with petrol for our return drive to Christchurch via Lyttleton – we were clueless that the region we were traveling had suddenly shifted in every imaginable and unimaginable way in the course of the past 10 minutes.

Arriving in Akaroa, we were perplexed as to why the Visitor’s Centre had hazard tape stretched across its doorway, people milling about but not going inside.  Gina enquired about our bag we were to pick up there and the woman stared at her as though she’d just seen a ghost, her blank look taken initially by us as a rather rude reception for one whose job it is to welcome visitors.  It was then that she told us about the earthquake and that it was looking as though it was very bad in Christchurch.  “Didn’t you feel it?”, she said.  She must have thought we were completely daft Americans when we replied that we hadn’t.  But now the pieces were beginning to fall into place.  She wasn’t rude, just in shock.  And around us people were milling about because all of the shops had closed due to the earthquake knocking out power.  And here we stood, the perfect example of how to NOT be prepared in case of emergency: not enough petrol in the car to get us to Christchurch, where our flight to Sydney was scheduled to leave in two days; only $5 in cash in our pockets for food and water and no ATMs functioning to help us out nor any stockpile left in our flash green van; and no booking for the evening for shelter.

What to do during times such as these?  Text Neighbor Cynthia, of course, our Go-To-Gal in the Southern Hemisphere.  Gina being the telecom expert that she is knew that we would be more likely to get a call out of the country than within it, as our current inability to reach Stephen also demonstrated.  And how could Neighbor Cynthia help us out?  By posting our safe status on Facebook, of course.  Social networking to the rescue.

Now Facebook couldn’t help us with all our other problems – food, water, shelter – so for this we turned to our own resources, i.e., Gina’s handy ability to unabashedly ask for anything and everything she wants.  Food and water?  Let’s go find Barbara, the octogenarian who walked the Banks Track with us who we know is staying at a Backpacker’s tonight in Akaroa, and see if we can borrow some cash.  Check!  Shelter?  Why there is Tom, a fellow Banks Track walker from Colorado we’d met only this morning, down off the track and headed for his Triple room with bunks to spare and a welcoming personality who invited us directly into his space.  Check!  Problems solved.  Only shoot, what’s that shaking that’s got us scurrying off this bench and into the middle of the street, us and Tom huddling together, strangers united in fear?  Why that would be an aftershock, of which many more are to come.  We thanked Tom for his offer of shelter in that 100+ year old house and opted instead to sleep outdoors at the campground.

Our other major problem?  Not knowing how our recently made friends and acquaintances are doing.  Besides Stephen and his family, there are Frank and Monique, brother and sister duo who we wished were walking the 4 day option rather than the 2 day option so we could get to know them better; Ingrid and Stephen, another fun and friendly Kiwi couple who cooked our steaks, told funny stories, and generally just made our walk all the more pleasant; and the couple from Denver whose names we never got but who shared our American backgrounds, which can often bond one during foreign travels … all folks we shared a connection with, all living or passing through Christchurch on this terrible day.  While standing in front of the Visitor’s Centre with two dozen other tourists listening to reports out of Christchurch on the battery-operated boom box that had been set up outside – reports telling us to stay at home, stay off the roads, boil our water, brace for aftershocks – we couldn’t help but be concerned.

But just like emotions have a funny way of sneaking up on you, so does serendipity.  Twenty-four hours later, back in Christchurch and staying with friends of Stephen – friends with electricity, water, and a house that hadn’t disgorged every item onto the floor like Stephen’s had, whose roads into their home weren’t cracked and liquified and buckled like the roads to Stephen’s, whose neighbourhood homes weren’t missing walls and windows and roofs like by Stephen’s – we catch a glimpse of the news and oh my gosh, it’s “Stephen!” we yell at the TV, Stephen from the Banks Track, Stephen who is one of the people in charge of the rescue effort in the Central Business District.  And less than 24 hours after that?  Standing in the long lines at Christchurch airport, who should we run into but the couple from Denver, safe and sound and heading to Australia as well.  And as for Frank and Monique?  Well, in the Air New Zealand lounge we find, of course, Monique, also safe and sound and assuring us that Frank and family are as well.  Serendipity, our friend in times of need.