Christchurch – an easy-on-the-eye city, in places.
Ten years ago, a couple of earthquakes ripped this harmonious little city a new arsehole. The first, like AJ’s infamous uppercut, raised heads and wobbled legs. The second was the barrage of fists that followed – the city, like Klitschko, toppled. We visited in 2016 and the damage was still unmistakably visible throughout many parts of Christchurch.
The majority of woe, obviously, lies with the loss of life that was a direct result of nature’s fiery temper. But having been half the world away at the time and visiting over half-a-decade later, the sadness now lies with a city that’s obviously trying to re-brand itself in the aftermath. The easy-come-easy-go attitude of Christchurch still beats like a healthy heart, but that heart was broken, so it takes time. From pop-up churches to shipping container shops, this city is embracing the trauma and healing around the wound like a mole that forms to hide a scar (fear not, it’s benign).
Aside from the wistful whiffs of a former Christchurch, it has to be said that the one still standing is indeed lovely. You can lose yourself in the day just walking slowly around the pretty streets, stopping for a snack or a bevvy, but not for a pumpkin salad because pumpkin salads are fucking disgusting. You can pop in to a pop-up church for a pop chorus of amen while the priest pops his finger up your popper… You can go to the park – it’s very well maintained, and create an impromptu contemporary dance routine in the shade of the cringing willows trees. Hagley Park is a haven, and in the middle of summer it is hard to resist it’s charm.
Failing all of this, just be present in the atmosphere that is Canterbury’s capital, as from what I can remember, it’s quite unique.
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