Essay: From earthquake to sauvignon blanc in New Zealand
February 25, 2011 / Jim Kolbe
Global Post
MOTUEKA, New Zealand ― As I write this, I am sipping an iced tea and overlooking a beautiful river valley, writing with a borrowed laptop. Just a few days ago, this bliss seemed very far away.
I was in Christchurch for the fourth meeting of the U.S.-New Zealand Partnership, a group that looks at different aspects of the bilateral relationship. The conference attendees had been scattered across the city in 20 different group lunches, and eight of us had just sat down in the faculty club dining room at Canterbury University. I had taken one bite of salmon when suddenly I was rocked out of my chair, all the tableware crashed to the floor, paintings fell, and a six-inch crack opened in the wall.
"Under the table!" one of the Kiwis yelled and we scrambled before the shaking stopped a few seconds later. We crawled out and immediately went outside to the lawn ― but not before I grabbed my plate of salmon and glass of good New Zealand sauvignon blanc. "Take it. It may be a long time before you eat again," the waitress said. Smart lady. We ate al fresco on the lawn, endured the first of many aftershocks, almost more terrifying because you know they are coming and with everything weakened, even more walls can come tumbling down.
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