A Tale of Two Cities

What a weekend! The story started on February 22nd like many in Christchurch, with the earthquake. A long time mate of mine and me had bought tickets to the rwc2011 Christchurch pool and cup matches. Of course they were cancelled and although my friend is a little indecisive I convinced him into buying a semi-final ticket which we won the right to buy on ballot, with the money from the original ticket refund. I even booked flights ahead and then we promptly forgot all about it. We have had other things on our minds!

Last week we panicked a little and though we eventually found some accommodation it did cost a small fortune. We decided to stay in the CBD so we could be part of the action. Last week I was thinking that going up Friday and back on Monday might be too long and I even wondered if I could be bothered going at all. I am so pleased we went but it did bring in to stark contrast just how completely screwed our city is.

Auckland is full and buzzing with life. There are people everywhere, bars are open with queues outside and there are many many tall buildings. It took some getting used to. I lay in bed on the 9th floor of the hotel on Saturday morning and half asleep wondered what my escape route may be if there was an earthquake. I decided that if there was an earthquake I would be stuffed and then Kim Hill on National Radio gently put me back to sleep again. Apart from 2 days in Hanmer in April, like many of us, I haven't left Canterbury since September 4 and probably much longer. My mate Dave and me were both completely knackered on Saturday (a year of unrelenting pressure) and just chilled though it may have had something to do with the 3 pints (do they do pints in Auckland, they were $9 each so they must have been!?) of Epic Armageddon we had the night before. We did a wander down Ponsonby road, very wide road, wide footpaths, great shops and bars and cafes, and some interest wherever we looked. Some ideas for Sydenham perhaps!

Speaking of Sydenham, being in Auckland just made me very sad for the loss of our city. It’s only when you go away to somewhere normal that you realise what we have lost. Recent aerial pictures of the CBD show just how many buildings have been demolished and it isn’t over yet. There are still hundreds of buildings to come down. I have realised that the heart of a city is so important. It contains life of all sorts, colour, movement, people, noise and smells. It’s where people work and play, shop and just pass through. I miss the fact that I can’t walk through the square to the library. I can’t wander down to the strip and meet friends. I can’t chat to the lovely ladies at the bank on a Monday, always hoping that I don’t get the creepy chap, as I queue up at the inevitable line.

Maybe Re-Start in Cashel Mall will help but I believe that we are all missing our recent past lives. Nowadays work is either near to your own home or on the other side of town, and we go and do our own thing after work. We have lost that central meeting place, that congregation of people that spells life. I have no idea how the city planners can fix this but oh how I ache for this after a weekend in Auckland.

And so to the rugby; I have been to many famous rugby grounds in the world but the atmosphere at Eden Park was just indescribable. From the moment we arrived the tension amongst the AB fans was palpable. I talked to an Aussie before the match, and he was very magnanimous saying that if they lost he would be happy as we deserved our second world cup win as they had two already! Bastard! The noise when the team walked out was a primeval roar and the anthem was never sung with more intensity and emotion. I couldn’t sing, as I had a lump in my throat the size of a baseball and had tears streaming down my face. I can still feel the emotion now. What is that saying from someone famous; how the hopes of a nation rest in the hands of so few. As for the Haka, the silence was eerie, every word heard as the whole stadium went quiet and we were all on the pitch with the AB’s, all 60,000 of us.

Right from the kick-off the crowd immediately had a hopeful feeling as Cooper kicked off and it went into touch. Was that a portent of things to come? As it turned out it was, and the match was only spoilt for me by some boorish Poms behind us that were homophobic and one of whom insisted on telling the AB’s on what to do for every one of the 80 minutes. That included such instructions as tackle, pass, contest etc. etc. ad nauseum. Oh, and this was all done with a voice that sounded like it had been smoking 40 a day for twenty years.

As for the homophobia, everyone and everything was gay. The jackets the Aussies wore when they came out on the field were gay; James O’Connor’s mother was gay, Quade Cooper caught the ball like a gay (did he ever cleanly take a high ball in the match), and Samo had a gay haircut! One does wonder about their public school upbringing, the only satisfaction that I had was that their boys had gone home!

The last few minutes of the match went in in a blur. At 78 minutes gone, when sixty thousand fans realised that the match was ours, there was such a roar around the ground. Such a release of tension, the sound was an expression of the dreams of a nation that have been on hold for so many years. Afterwards the warm feeling of victory was pervasive and it was a great end to a brilliant weekend away.

Being away always makes me reassess things so today I have made an appointment with a business coach to help me be better organised. Organising and recreating the heart of our city will take a bit longer.