Sunday, July 31, 2011

Moving On


School Holidays are a funny thing. Until recently they provided an escape from an incessant workload, and a seemingly necessary lapse in attentiveness, and devotion. Not that I had much of either. The former however, always applied. Unfortunately, working at a place where other people go to escape means I get particularly busy during the school holidays. A sudden winter holiday coupled with an unusual work schedule resulted in a long few weeks. After missing my days off assisting in the kitchen, I was once again craving a trip out of the mountains.
A nearly sickening decent through the winding hills was only bearable due to the magnificently blue skies. It seems like an eternity since the last time I saw an unclouded sky. A few hours later, I was unloaded onto the streets of Christchurch. Strangely enough, there was more snow there than in the mountains. The bus stop was only a few blocks from the city center. I hadn’t been back there since my first trip, days before the earthquake. Aside from the demolition and construction teams (from what I could see there isn’t much of a difference) nobody has been allowed in since.
The largest buildings I’ve seen on the south island were deserted. A ghost town of infrastructure slowly being torn apart is an eerie sight indeed. Sitting on a bench along the Avon River I watch as a building is gradually demolished. Months ago I sat on this same bench, watching busy cafés, people shopping, and ducks in the river. All I could see now was abandoned businesses, a desolate scene covered in settled dust. An ominous air hangs over the city center.
So what do I do? I walk into the casino to my left, take my winnings and go see Harry Potter. It may seem insensitive, but it’s what needed to be done. I’m in town to enjoy civilization, not reflect on dark times. Moving on may be difficult for some, but it’s what’s best. Though it’s certainly taking an inordinately long period of time, it’s what the demolition crews are doing. It’s what the people of Christchurch are doing. Talking to countless people who lost their home, their business, and life as they knew it, not a single person grieved about their situation.
They simply stood by each other to face whatever was to come. 






Friday, July 8, 2011

Officially Winter


One week into July, 6 am, and the sun has yet to rise. Walking outside for fresh air yields a familiar site; a wet, bitter morning. Back inside to brush my teeth and wash my face.  Minutes later as I’m stepping back across the foyer to my room, there is a glimmer in my peripheral. What was dank and cold only moments before was suddenly veiled in a pale blanket of snow.
Snow in July, what a bizarre concept. 
Fingers crossed for a white birthday...

 Up to the kitchen

Down to the river

 On the river

Sunrise