I’m so naive. I’m sat here in Christchurch, New Zealand and despite all I’ve read and heard anecdotally, I’m still utterly speechless. Christchurch was devastated by a massive earthquake in February 2011 and nearly 3.5 years later is still on the brink of recovery.

I didn’t want to believe it though. My trust-worthy companion, the Qantas in-flight magazine The Australian Way, amongst other travel oriented articles and blogs, have been boasting about Christchurch’s rise from the ashes as of the last few months. In fact, everything from shipping container boutiques to local art installations and pop up coffee shops has spun the ramshackle into riches.

This is what got me most excited. I dismissed all the backlash comments of after quake scares and desolation and imagined a hipster’s paradise – street art, craft beer disguised in old vacant warehouses and fashion labels hidden behind street lamps.

The best part is these things do exist. It’s just what makes it all the more creepy when you’re a tourist for less than 24 hours and you’re the only person on the street trying to uncover all the amazing ‘hidden gems’, honestly inspired to ‘give back’ and help the community but frankly, you’re scared to death of a zombie gang about to bust out of a half standing ex-office building.

Tree Houses for Swamp Dwellers by Julia Morison; Scape Public Art

It also didn’t help that John, my nearly 80 year old taxi driver told me point blank just how scary it all was. “You can’t predict these things,” John said. “One minute you feel a shake, and you have no idea how bad it’s actually going to get. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You want to just run away, but they tell you to stay inside, hide under the table or something. One of the safest places is under a doorway because it’s more stable.” John’s lived in in Christchurch his whole life, and fortunately didn’t suffer any personal damage to his family or his home.

Downtown didn’t actually re-open until last November. It’s a ghost town. Literally, the feeling is haunting. There are only five hotels in Christchurch at the moment, and I’m pleasantly impressed with the Novotel, which sits in Cathedral Square, just opposite quiet tram lines and the old Christchurch Cathedral, with part of its side bitten out from the quake.

Christchurch Cathedral

It’s only 6:30 pm, 8 degree Celsius (46 F) and pissing down rain. From all the recent articles I’ve read about Christchurch, I had a few places in mind such as CBD Bar who are an off shoot of Cassels and Sons local brewery and Pomeroy’s, a Christchurch historic institution who brew their own beer. After about 2 minutes out on the cold dark streets I stopped on a quiet corner. That was the thing. All of the corners were quiet. I decided to second guess my adventure for local beer due to the fact that I felt alone, and unsafe. As much as I want to help support the local businesses, doing it alone didn’t seem smart. I turned back to have a quiet dinner and local Pinot Noir back at the Novotel, and vow tomorrow to revisit the quick glimpses of street art that I caught earlier today, and maybe even sneak in a cheeky pint too before my flight down to Queenstown. 

In the clouds: snow-capped mountains on the South Island of New Zealand