Arriving in Christchurch, I was surprised to be greeted by the mechanic, Peter. It was 7 o'clock… on Saturday… Not only that, but he was working the next day as well, and always did. A 7 day a week mechanic?? I liked this guy already. He then plugged my camper in to his workshop to give us electricity, and gave me the keys to a "loaner car", which we could used whenever and for whatever we wanted.
"All we gotta do now, is find you a second hand engine, and you'll be on your way!" Peter said optimistically.
Sounded good to me, even if it wasn't true. I didn't particularly care at that moment. An optimistic mechanic that obviously liked to work?? I'll take it!
I couldn't help laugh and shake my head at all the 3rd world mechanics I had been to in my travels. Spending days and even weeks on end without a lick of work being done was pretty much the norm. I remembered a time in Panama when I had two flat tires, and it took me a full 8 hours to get them repaired by two different mechanics!
The first mechanic was really tired (it was 11am), and would only fix one tire. He did, and then went to lunch. But, by the time I got back to the truck, it was flat again. When I went in to tell him the news, he was "almorzando", which translates to "lunching". Apparently, IF he was coming back at all, it would be in about 3 hours, but otherwise, he'd be back the next day.
The only other mechanic in town was stonecold hammered, and every 3 minutes of work or so, he would have another beer, and then do a little dance around the tire with a pretend woman in his arms, while his friends howled in laughter. No joke: 2 tires, 8 hours, and not another customer in sight. It was a Tuesday… and no, I double checked, it was not a holiday.
For the next couple of days we cruised around Christchurch. We saw movies, took walks around the may harbors and coves, I even got a few surfs in! We celebrated Valentines Day at a restaurant called Valentinos (ironic I know!), and we even exchanged some small gifts. She gave me a shell necklace she made, and I gave her a cheesy poem I wrote! So we had some wine and some laughs, and forgot about our problems for a while. It was great…
The next day we got an idea. We had a car, we had sleeping bags, we had a tent… let's go somewhere! So we did. We decided to go back to Akaroa, since we didn't really get to see it the last time. We threw everything in the car, and off we went.
About half an hour down the road, I couldn't help but notice how relaxed I was feeling. It seemed I had totally forgotten what it was like to drive without having to be worried that something was gonna break, or that it wouldn't start if we stopped, or that it was out of oil. I found myself just doing, well, what everyone does when they drive; listening to music, looking at the scenery, and just letting my mind wander where it will. Soon we came up over the hill, and looked down into the bays of Akaroa.
Before long, we were there. We decided to camp in a different bay this time, and in a campground with facilities to make life a little easier. There were dozens of bays to explore there, both beautiful and isolated. They had tons of wildlife and only a speckle of houses. The deep blue waters and golden hills and beaches were a more than welcome sight. One even had surf!
It was a long walk down to the bay, through paddocks and farms, around skittish sheep and curious horses, up and over the barbwire fences, and down to the beach. The waves were good size, well overhead, but very "fat"; or, without much power. It was actually perfect for the time and place. I hadn't surfed a lot in the past month so I was a little out of shape. Plus, there was no one in this bay, no one within miles even. And, to be the only surfer out in a big, murky bay with notorious amounts of sharks around, well it can be a little nerve racking. It took me a good half hour to get the jaws music out of my head. But after that, it felt amazing to be in the water, making long smooth turns up and down the large waves' faces as they slowly peeled into the bay. I remembered thinking, 'i needed this…'
We were driving up around one of the bays one day, when we ran into a guy named Simon. He was an older man that was camped out in his friends property the day we broke down. I got him to bring his car over and try and jump our battery, just to rule that out (that didn't take long). Anyway, I was talking with a friend of his named Larry, who told us that when we got back to Christchurch, we could stay at his house if we wanted to. So, I took down his number, and told him I'd give him a ring in a few days. But, I'll get back to that in a minute.
We went into the town of Akaroa just about everyday. It was a cute, quaint little town, with coffee shops and a french flavor to it which remained from the initial colonizers. And, on our last night, the wind died, the sunset was beautiful, and we were filled with optimism about the future. We felt, well, at peace with out travels. Things were good again.
Back in Christchurch and nothing had been done. I guess you can take the mechanic out of the 3rd world, but you can't take the 3rd world out of the mechanic… In his defense, he had tried to find a motor several times, but they were just so few do to the age of the car. Don't get me wrong, he was slacking, but it was more difficult to find than we thought. But, alas, a day or two later and we found one! It was even close by. Peter was genuinely excited for us.
"You'll be outta here by Tuesday at the latest!", he exclaimed with a smile on his face. And I know how that sounds, but Peter and I had actually become good friends by this point. We practically lived together at his shop, so we were always talking about one thing or another. He was a funny guy, and a lot of fun to poke fun at, and joke around with, and more often than not, we'd walk away from each other with a big smile on our face.
On Monday, I decided to call Larry up to take him up on his offer. He said to come around 5, and we could join them for dinner. So we did. It turned out Larry was a wealthy man, and when we arrived we were greeted with glasses of wine and warm welcomes. Simon actually ended up being Larry's neighbor, and before long he and his wife had come over to join us. Simon was a sultry old man, but by this 3rd visit with him, I had come to pick up on a very dry, very subtle, but quite witty sense of humor that he had. In fact, the more I listened to him, the more I couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Larry seemed like a nice enough guy, but he had a lot to say, especially about himself and all the money he had. He started out by subtly mentioning how nice his house and neighborhood was and the views he had were, which was no big deal. After all, I had to agree. But Larry was slammin' down the beers and kept repeating himself about how well-off he was, which started to get annoying. Then he began telling me how much the steaks he had bought us were, and the price of his deck which was some sort of Brazillian wood he had imported. It started to get real annoying, and the more I seemed to ignore him, the more it came my way. It even got to the point of where he told me how much each step cost
"See these stepsssshhh?" he slurred. "These steps cost 120 dollars each! You saw how many steps there were, YOU do the mathhhhh!"
I smiled, slightly more annoyed. I kept trying to engage in conversation with Simon, who I was actually liking more and more by the second. He was no stranger to having some alcohol either, but he seemed to be getting funnier by the sip! It was to the point where I would just listen to him banter, and just laugh my ass off.
"Why'sss your glasss empty?!!!", Larry kept asking me.
"Im going to surf early tomorrow, and don't wanna drink too much," I explained.
"Oh… I hate the sea… just terrible".
Obviously Larry and I were not two peas in a pod. Although I was always polite and nodded, I liked Larry less and less by the minute. And when Simon left, I actually began yearning for the comforts of a quiet, cozy camper in which I could be editing my photos. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I mean, the food was fantastic, and Larry was kind and gracious to invite us to his home, and treat us so well. But, to be honest… I really don't care about all that shit. How much Larry's steps cost was about as interesting to me as someone reading the dictionary. And, furthermore, someone spending an entire night explaining to me how great they were in terms of how nice all their shit is, is downright painful. I'd take a tent and a sleeping bag and some god damn peace and quiet over a bed, hot shower, and a drunken bug in my ear and the obligation to listen to him, any day of the week. But I digress…
The next day, I remember just like it was, well, today, even though it was a week ago now. That morning the surf was great. Overhead, offshore winds, not too many people out, and I was actually surfing pretty well. Mariel had slept in and was going to yoga with Trudy that morning, so I stayed out for a few hours before heading back. On the way back to Larry's, I decided to pop in to see if any progress was being made on the van. And, lo and behold, I turned the corner to see the hood up, and the engine half out!! "Woohoo!", I screamed to myself. I got out of the car with a big smile on my face, and talked with one of the mechanics who was working on it. Before long, I grabbed some things out of the van, and called Mariel.
"The van's getting worked on!!", I exclaimed.
I could hear the excitement reciprocated on the other end.
"I'm just gonna stop by the store and pick up some stuff for lunch, but I'll be back soon," I said.
"Sounds good baby! I"ll see you soon!" Mariel excitedly said.
We hung up.
I gathered up some things and began talking with the mechanic who was working on it, one of Peter's workers. We were talking about surf and places in down the coast that were good, and although we hadn't spoken much before, I was really enjoying the conversation.
All of a sudden, things started to move a little. And then, a little more. The conversation stopped as we looked at each other like, 'wow, there's a little earthquake going on right now'. We both smiled. Then…
BOOOMMMM! The ground was shaking violently. Back and forth, back and forth, like a chew toy in a dogs mouth. I could see cars dancing around me in the parking lot. I looked over to see Joyous scooting backward toward the garage a few feet at a time, and I actually had a quick thought about running over and putting on the brakes, but I simultaneously realized that I wasn't able to. In fact, I was barely staying on my feet as it was. The mechanic and I crept a few feet toward the middle of the parking lot as my eyes instinctually darted around in every direction. Looking, looking frantically, looking for anything dangerous, anything falling or that could fall. But there was nothing. In fact, I was in a perfect place. So I just stayed.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was done. Car alarms were going off and store alarms were going off. They were small hills raised in the lot, and subsequently valleys, and there were cracks in the cement in which water started to slowly leak out, until it was leaking all over the place.
"That was crazy shit!", I said to the mechanic, kinda smiling.
"Ya, that was flippin' crazy", he said, smiling back.
People walked out of the shop, stunned but unharmed. I quickly called Mariel.
"Hey, are you okay?!"
"Yeah, I'm totally fine. A lot of stuff fell off the walls and broke, but I'm fine. But, I think their house is broken…" she said.
"Is everyone there okay?" I asked
"Ya, we're all out on the street"
"Good," I said. "I'm gonna see if anyone needs help around here, but I'll be back after that."
"Okay, I love you!" she said
"I love you too," I said, and hung up the phone.
I put on my shoes and headed out. One of the mechanics I had talked to before was shaking his head saying, "That's brought a building down, I'll tell you right now." But no one paid him much mind. He was kind of a crazy dude.
Just then my mom called.
"Hi Andy! How's it going?"
"Actually, we just had an earthquake mom! Everything's totally fine, and everyone's totally fine. Can you call me back a little later??"
I had NO IDEA, that two HUNDRED people, had just died. Two hundred… Even after a week, I still can't swallow it. Unbelievable…
We hung up. By this time water was seeping out of all kinds of cracks and had started to flood the street and gutters. I went around the corner to the main street to find broken glass in front of almost every shop. Everyone was in the streets on their cell phones. A few people had some small cuts and bruises, but everyone seemed okay. There was really no one to help. It seemed the guy who had it the worst was the guy in the tattoo parlor. His shop looked real messed up, but besides being covered in drywall and being a little shaken up, he was totally fine.
I asked somebody if they knew if anybody died.
"A few people downtown I think," they answered.
Damn, a few people died. Terrible. What a tragedy... But, at the end of the day, this was a pretty big city, it seemed likely there would be somebody.
"Liquefaction" a lady said as I rounded the corner.
"What?" I asked.
"That's what this is," she said, pointing to the ground.
As I looked around it was everywhere. Piles and piles of a dark gray, wet sand that seemed to come out of nowhere through the cement.
"That's bad, that's real bad. Means things are unstable."
I hopped in the car and started my way out of town. Obviously things were very slow going, There were large potholes to drive around, and the streets were quite bumpy with small hills and valleys everywhere. There was glass outside most of the shops, and there were some large cracks in certain places of the streets where the cement had buckled.
I arrived back at Larry's to find the entire neighborhood in the street. Larry was in an uproar. He wanted to show me his house (surprise surprise). There were some big cracks in the dry wall and a lot of broken things on the floor, mostly from the walls. An aftershock hit. They were coming about every 20 minutes or so.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
I agreed.
I helped Larry get his garage together and get his car in a safe place.
"I think the next step Larry is to go and get anything irreplaceable. Are there any photo albums or family heirlooms that we can go and get??" I asked.
"No, no, just leave it all. I don't wanna deal with it."
I went over to see how Simon and his wife Jan were doing. They were quite calm and collected, slowly cleaning up their house, and gathering up their valuables to show to insurance.
"Can I give you guys a hand?" I asked.
"Oh no, no. We're fine, thanks." They both answered.
"I really think you should let us help you guys. I mean, a couple of extra hands go a long way. What do you say?" I asked.
"Well, okay then. That would be great." They said, almost in unison.
Over the next several hours, we got all their broken valuable together, and then began literally shoveling out all the other broken glass and trash.
"Wait," said, "That's glass and perishables in the same trashcan!"
F-ing Kiwis and their goddamn recycling. Gotta love them.
"I think today is a non-recycling day Simon. It'll take us forever!"
He agreed.
The hardest part of the house was the laundry room. While Mariel continued to help Jan in the living room, I went with Simon to the washroom. The walls were lined with preservatives they had collected for god knows how long. But now, it was just one giant pile of fruit and glass salad all over the floor, and with plenty of juice. It took another couple hours to get the appliances out and shovel out the piles of fruit and glass. Of course, the water main is off, so its not like we could give it a proper cleaning. But, between mops and towels and a lot of elbow grease, we got it pretty damn clean.
By the time we finished it was almost dark. Simon insisted we sit down for a glass of wine at the end of the day, and we obliged. Even Jan sat down and had a drink, and she doesn't drink. Larry wasted no time in getting as drunk as possible. I was happy to see him come and go, with the emphasis on the go. There was no power, no water, no gas, no nothing But, before I say anything too bad, Larry, being a truly and honestly nice guy, offered us a room in his daughter's house, which was apparently unscathed. It even had running water still.
I thought about the offer. I pictured us going to sleep in a strange house, where aftershocks would be literally occurring every 20 mins, all night long. I thought about the number of times I would wake up and be heading for the door.
Then it hit me. I knew of a place that was really safe. I knew of a place with water, gas, electricity, and nothing dangerous that would fall on us if we were sleeping. I mean, even if the ground itself opened up, we would be safer here than anywhere…
Joyous. Joyous the god damn campervan was waiting for us with open arms. Even if there was another earthquake, we couldn't be in a better spot. I couldn't help but smile. After everything, it was the one thing I could count on. Hundreds of thousands of people were leaving the city. There wasn't a hotel within 300 miles that would be available that night. And even if there was it would take all night to get there with the traffic. We actually had it better off than anyone.
Coming back to the motorhome, we saw Peter at the shop, fixing things up and securing everything for the night. The owners of the tatoo parlor nearby was poorly and desperately boarding up so that no one would steal anything. Peter had a bunch of extra wood, but no one knew how to hammer nails! I don't think I've ever felt so useful with a hammer as I went around and hammered nails through the boards and deep into the building. Peter and I were even joking back and forth as usual. Unbeknownst to us, many people were hurt and dying.
The next day we spent just trying to figure out what was going on. The power had come back on. There was still no water. We decided to go back to Simon and Jan's to see how they and Larry were holding up. Plus, we had lent them our power inverter for their car and we needed to get that back. We started watching the news there, and what we saw was so sad. So much destruction, so much death, so much fear and unknowing and people missing. So sad. We just had no idea about any of it. It was difficult to comprehend. Its almost like it just wouldn't sink in.
We really wanted to volunteer to help out. I got the number of the volunteer line of the Red Cross and tried to get through, but it was busy. I called all day, and even into the night, but I was just never able to get through. One more night in Joyous and we woke up the next day feeling lost. It soon became obvious that if we weren't able to help out, we needed to get out. All we did was take up resources. We bought water, we bought food, and everything was in short supply. If we could leave, we should. Plus, the squabbling at the gas station across the street, one of the only open ones, had me worried that a lack of resources might lead to violence if things got worse. We packed our stuff, and took off for a lake named Tekapo.
Halfway there, I felt like I was having a panic attack. I felt bad. I felt guilty. I felt like there were all these people in need of help back there, but me? I was leaving. I wanted to help, but I just couldn't figure out how! Maybe I should have just gone around from door to door, asking people. Maybe I could have asked Peter if he knew anyone. But everyone was gone, and the people that stayed were helping themselves... It was unbelievably frustrating. I pulled the car over and talked to Mariel about it to try and figure something out, and clear my head, and maybe even turn around. We ended up going to a restaurant and looking up things online since we finally had internet access. So much destruction... But what about volunteer work? There was a group of 500 students doing a cleanup that morning, but they had already posted they were full and not to come. I found one man who needed his chimney demolitioned, which I had done before, and although I thought about it, I was uneasy about climbing on a possibly structurally unsound building and demo-ing a very unstable pile of bricks. I felt, well, useless.
A few hours down the road, it hit me. There was something I could do. I had photography. I could start a fundraiser with my photography.
So, I'm ending this blog by asking you all to help. For this upcoming week, I've made a gallery on my website named "Help Christchurch". They are all photos of New Zealand, and 100% of the profits will be going to either the Red Cross, or the Salvation Army, and will be going directly to the Christchurch victims. I have been in touch with both organizations in order to get direct sponsorship, and am waiting to hear back. Either way, it will be donated through them, directly to the Christchurch victims. So please, if you can, make a donation through a photo from the Pangea Photography website at www.PangeaPhotography.com, or, you can always go directly to theRed Cross, New Zealand at www.RedCross.org.nz. Anything helps. Thank you so much!
