Six Point Three

I'm really glad I took EOSC 114, a course on Natural Disasters. Because, unlike many of my friends, when the earthquake hit I knew what to do. When the world began to shake and my 4th floor room was falling apart around me, I ducked under my desk to wait it out. When the rumbling stopped, I ran out of my room to see how my roommates were - we excitedly gushed about having experienced something so unreal. Little did we know that our city had been all but destroyed in those 15 seconds.

My apartment building, and most of the university, was fine. Our buildings were evacuated, and we were told to wait outside when the aftershocks started - some seemed worse than the original earthquake, especially for those who were particularly emotionally and psychologically affected by the first one. We quickly became restless, especially as news trickled in about the city - someone got a text that two buses had been crushed, and one of my close friends told us how she'd seen the road open up before her and a building's entire facade collapse onto the street. Most people weren't able to send texts and we became worried about what our families were thinking, so we left to a friend's house that had power and internet to e-mail home. Watching the news at their place was surreal - it felt like I was watching from Canada, not from the city in which it was occurring. I and a few others decided to head out and see if there was anything we could do. Unfortunately, the blood bank couldn't take anyone, and no one could get to the city centre to volunteer. 

The rest of the day was spent trying to distract ourselves from the aftershocks any way we could. That night, I dreamt I was in a bomb shelter that was under constant attack. Some of my friends barely slept at all. We woke up tired and shaken. Our original plan was to try once again to help out, but our power was back and the news was urging people to stay away from the city centre. The news also told us that flights out of Chch were $50. In a split second, I and four friends decided we were leaving. We each packed a backpack and made our way to Burnside High School where we were registered with the Red Cross. We waited in line for a few hours, got on a bus that took us to the airport, then we waited in line again, and before we knew it we were boarding a massive military plane. We flew to Wellington and were bussed to a temporary relief centre, where some kind people fed us and helped us find accommodation.

That's where our adventures began. Out of a terrible situation, we were aunched into an impromptu vacation which I'll detail as best I can in my next few blog posts. I still can't believe that things have happened as they did. I had attended two classes, and now I don't even know when they'll resume. My thoughts go out to all of those who have suffered true loss here in Christchurch.