Earthquake Fatigue

There are probably many definitions of "earthquake fatigue". Every Cantabrian probably has their own interpretation of the term. Each is probably correct.

The original red zone, which, after Feb 22, 2011, was pretty much the massive area of city and land enclosed in the four avenues, has been shrinking daily as buildings have been demolished, spaces have been cleared, and regular human beings migrate back into the CBD and surrounding environs. Yesterday, the red zone became even small with the opening of a section of Cathedral Square. Pretty soon, the red zone will consist of a fence around the crumbling Christ Church Cathedral.

I am earthquake fatigued. It's not about the moving house; it's not about our driveway being dug up and having to park on the street for three weeks just as the frosts start; it's not about still having to add 20 minutes to any trip to any part of town. Those things and many more make every day a pain in the ass, but they are not the core of my earthquake fatigue.

Every now and then I decide to take a wander down town in the hopes of getting some photos, perchance even some photos of something interesting (to me). But I'm running out of subjects. There are only so many photos one can take of demolished buildings, and lord knows I've taken a few. I'm over demolished buildings. They used to be fascinating. Interesting. Topical. Now they're all just boring. Depressing. Old news.

The CBD is depressing. Certain factions would have us believe it is coming alive. I'm not convinced. There's nothing pretty in the CBD. ReStart mall is a smaller version of the shopping that was in the CBD before - boutique, expensive, niche. The Gap Filler installations are unique and inspiring, but they seem to be temporary, or poorly attended. There are splashes of colour...overshadowed but a dark depressing destruction.

So I walked the circle of the new cordon, looking for those things that jump up and scream to be photographed. Sadly, they are almost non-existent.

Most places are unrecognisable. I stood on street corners and couldn't for the life of me remember what used to be in that space. Or that space. Or that one.

One place I did recognise. We had dinner here, and watched a show. I have no idea what this place was called.

Now it's a shell. One of many shells. Empty. Meaningless, except for a tinge of sadness.

I seem to remember some controversy with this building, but...it may have been another one. There is so much controversy over so many buildings I don't care any more about insurance and heritage quibbles.

Regent Street. What were they thinking? Great fanfare about its reopening, as if shopping had returned to the stricken CBD. Yeah right. Most of the shops are still empty. Some are still run down and damaged. It's still a construction site. At either end of this "picturesque" street are demolition sites. It's dusty. If you leave your latte uncovered for any amount of time you have to scoop off a layer of debris before you can take another mouthful. 

What were they thinking????

The nicest part of being in Regent Street was meeting up with an old friend who is working on a new exciting project and wants me on board.

If this is how the CBD will be returned to us - one stagnant street at a time - I'll stick to the comfortable, stress-free malls.

And don't get me started about this place. It hasn't changed (it seems) in two and a half years. Politics, religion, money. It's a joke. Both sides are a joke. Everybody's talking, nobody's listening. And every time the place hits the news we have to put up with the droning monotone of the Mostly Reverend Matthews. He really needs to get some elocution lessons. And a personality.







The stroll was boring. The only people on the streets were disaster tourists and the six people who still work in the CBD. The empty spaces all blend together into one sink-hole of nothingness. I don't know the actual numbers but it seems there is more not there than there. That's disconcerting. I can't imagine how much more disconcerting it might be for someone who grew up in those streets.

I'm tired of living in a city that in parts looks like Beirut. I'm tired of waiting in traffic. I'm tired of walking and driving on bumpy cracked stony roads and paths. I'm tired of hearing about EQC dramas on Campbell Live. I'm tired of our garage flooding every time it rains (that's not necessarily because of the earthquakes, I just thought I'd say it). I'm tired of hearing trucks and jackhammers and diggers everywhere I go. I'm tired. I am suffering from earthquake fatigue.