I can’t recall much of the actual quake. Once the panic was over, we went back to bed. In retrospect this seems like a foolish decision but it made sense at the time — there was no obvioud building damage and very little destruction inside the house. I don’t think we would have crawled back into bed if the chimney had fallen through the roof or the TV was on the floor.

The day dawned normally. We had power to make tea, make some scones and took stock. Everything looked quiet out our front window, despite the ongoing radio coverage of destruction and panic. The neighbors’ houses were still there. The streets were unblemished. No pillars of fire in the distance. We even had TV, which showed us what was going on around the city.

By midmorning we went out for a bit of rubbernecking and to think about things. In short we were all lucky. Some of us suffered just a little, some suffered a little more (no power) or a lot (broken sewers), some had their houses cracked down the middle. But no mass destruction, no collapsed high-rises, landslides, fires, no water-borne epidemic (we hope). No (direct) fatalities, few lingering problems (where is clean water? where is our next meal coming from?) and the overall fabric of society held up. Amazing. Honestly, the under-insulation of NZ housing is a far more dangerous social tragedy.

Aftershocks have continued, and are forecast to continue for a few more weeks (!). At first I actually thought they were kind of, dare I say it, cool. Just the feeling of having the whole world move around you like a ship on the ocean. After a couple of nights of 5.x aftershocks, though, I’m ready for it to end. You’re just never quite sure which one’s going to get stronger rather than fade away.

So the current situation: my Uni is closed for the week, along with day care while they clean up. Anna is off through Thursday. We’re still boiling water, but there’s plenty of it coming out of the taps. No problems with electricity. We’re letting the yellow mellow. The house checks out. There are still some empty shelves at the grocery — bottled water, hand sterilizer, but milk and butter are in abundance. Downtown is closed, as are the usual distractions, but we’ll cope.

Here are a few photos we took during our rubbernecking trip on Saturday morning:

Obviously there was a lot of chance involved, but we also benefited from geology, good weather, building codes, public health systems, reasonable telecommunication infrastructure, responsive and caring government, existing robust water and sewerage systems, strong neighborhood communities, modern megamarkets with good distribution infrastructure, good roads, etc etc etc. So, if you were concerned at all for us, if even for a moment, channel that concern here, here or if you really must, here.

Anna writes:

The past few days

It was a hectic week last week. My soccer club’s annual prize giving was on friday night, and somehow I wound up in sort of in charge. It went well, although I was bone-weary when I crawled into bed at eleven.

At about 4:40 am I awoke with a thought. “boy, that’s a really heavy freight train”, quickly followed by “we don’t live near the tracks”, followed by “OMG! doorframe!”

After gathering my wits in the doorway, I dashed to the bean sprout’s room. Other than a fat lip and a bruised arch, this achieved nothing, as the quake was over by the time I arrived. She was crying when I pulled her out of the cot, but when I set her down in our room she said ‘wow’ and hopped into our bed, ready to nurse.

The power flicked back on. We turned on radio new zealand national. After about 15 minutes of listening to the host read her text messages aloud, during which we learned that ‘a stuffed cat’ had fallen on someone’s head in otago, we decided that the earthquake must have been centered in dunedin. With no evident damage to our house, we decided the most sensible thing to do would be to go back to bed.

We awoke to a beautiful spring day, and the news that we were in the middle of the disaster area. After a full inspection the extent of the damage was revealed as one (1) broken vase, a crack in the kitchen ceiling that might or might not be new and a new crack in the chimney.

After a stroll around the neighborhood to check on our neighbors (all fine), see if the civil defense post had any information or was looking for volunteers (no and no) and do a little rubber necking (the liquor store reeked, and the engravers we used for the prize-giving was completely demolished), there was really nothing for it but to head home, make some lunch and mow the lawn.

Lessons learned

1. if there is a power on earth that can keep kiwis from driving like idiots for no good reason, it is greater than a 7.1 earthquake
2. If the whole city is being warned not to flush their toilets to to conserve water, someone will decide that hosing down their sidewalk is a critical use of precious resources.
3. earthquake straps for bookshelves are a really good idea.

We were one of the few neighborhoods that didn’t lose power, so other than the need to boil water, and a lingering worry about the integrity of the sewer network, we (individually and as a city) got off incredibly lightly. The one service we’re without at home, however, is teh internets, so posting will be light for the next few days.

Which is why, if you are so unwise as to sit on our living room floor, a small person will “sneak” up behind you, cackling manically at the top of her lungs, and poke you in the armpit while saying ‘Ick. Ick’.

If your armpits are out of reach, she will tickle herself instead. Somewhat surprisingly, it seems to work.

… is coming

I admit it. The biscotti aren’t even yours.

Yes, yes. I’ve been dallying with the (wonderful) Treasury of New Zealand Baking.

And I enjoyed it. Particularly the chocolate cake. And the hazelnut orange cake. And the lemon bars. And the ginger slices. And ….

The scones are pure Edmonds, tho.

No, we’re in Gibbon territory now, boys. Magnum. Opus. Volume I presages Volume II, and next thing you know, you have an entire bookshelf shrine dedicated to Nigel’s gustatory delights, decorated with candles and oranges,

The conversational tone. Recipes which marry posh to stodge, with a hint of the far-flung empire. Is this British soul food? Hugh for the urbanite? Oh Nigel, who needs a farm in Dorset when we have the potted vege on your verandah?

Nigel, drop by some time. We’ll make biscotti.

Bring Nigella with you.

“That’s your knee. Knees are like elbows, but on your legs”.

“Bo-Bo”

“That’s your wrist.”

Another dreary June, another Sir Edmund Hillary Day. We decided to celebrate with a visit to the wild, wet West Coast.

There was bush-bashing

and waterfall watching

beach browsing

and tussock tromping

and eating lots of sometimes foods.

Key lesson learned?

“Wow” cannot be overused.

Fin.

A few notes:

• For those considering a similar journey, we didn’t really have to wait three years on work visa to get residency. I’d say it’s pretty feasible for “desirables” (i.e. young, healthy, educated, skilled professional, big hands, must provide own boat, etc) to be granted NZ residency, particularly with a job offer. The work-to-residency path was what was offered and we happily took it … in the long run it worked for us.
• For long-term visitors the NZ system is quite rational. We were able to access health care, schools, etc. There were very few “rough edges” where the distinction between long-term work visa and residency became apparent. That’s a good thing!
• I’m always a little appalled when I hear stories from folks who’ve done similar migrations to the States. It’s amazing how ignorant most Americans (i.e. myself) are or the machinations and deprivations of the US immigration system.

I was going to put up a heavily-edited scan of my residence permit, but Anna nixed that idea … probably for good reason.

Instead, here’s a picture of a man in an MC Hammer costume, and a picture of our daughter, in case you’ve forgotten what she looks like: