Sumner Sunny Sunday

Last January, on my flight from Sydney to Christchurch, I met Susan, a New Zealander woman physically in her sixties but with an attitude so larger than life that makes her spiritually ageless. She lives in one of the most beautiful areas of Christchurch but also one of the most affected by the February 2011 Earthquake - Sumner, a little seaside suburb with dozens of houses built in the hills where the sun rises every morning to incredible views of the Pacific Ocean. Nowadays, a great part of those houses are set for demolition while another part faces the need of major reconstruction, all in the mist of unwilling cooperation from insurance companies and the overall perception of deep incompetence by the Earthquake Commission.

Overviewing Sumner

As the plain landed, Susan gave me her contact and an open invitation to visit her and a tour of the destruction among those past heavenly mounts. I was immediately keen on the idea not because I have a morbid desire to see other people's misery but because Susan spoke with such optimism, conviction of the better days laying ahead and absolutely no desire of abandoning Christchurch, that I truly wanted to be a firsthand witness of someone's almost unbelievable resilience. Her glass was shattered but also more full than ever.

(Broken) Houses on the hill

A few days ago, a friend of mine arrived from Germany to visit me and having done and seen everything there is to do and see in Christchurch (translation: not much), I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to finally take on Susan's offer to spend a day in Sumner. Her reply to my message and personal re-encounter was a revival of the woman I briefly set next to, high above the Tasman Sea - a welcoming smile, a strong hug and a contagious energy.  

As we arrived at her home on a sunny Sunday, I felt myself entering the paradoxal reality that Sumner now is: an amazing house with a breathtaking view but with half of its walls destroyed and replaced by temporary wooden boards with a construction logo on it. But we didn't set down and grief, we laughed and shared stories. We told her how my friend and I got together one day in the Netherlands to make a decision about coming to New Zealand, in my case, and to Japan, in hers, even after the destruction caused by the earthquakes in both countries. While most people around us were advising us against it, we realize that we actually had no inner doubts about what to do. In return, Susan told us how she travelled the world, lived in Japan for more than a decade and enjoyed every step of the way as much as she could. Somehow, her laughs echoing in a greatly destroyed house that still felt like a home, didn't seem odd at all to us, they seemed familiar.

Dozens of containers along the road holding the hills

After driving us around the hills for about one hour, telling us what happened to this and that house, to this and that friend and to the community as a whole, she drop us off in one end of the beach long pedestrian walk (the dictionary tells me the word for this is 'esplanade') so we could enjoy the rest of that sunny day before heading back into the city. As we were about to leave the car, in the context of the goodbye she told us something about her life, I will never forget:

"I made the most of it and I have no regrets!" 

followed by a loud and sincere laugh. How many people are lucky enough to say the same?

Into the ocean

As we strolled down the esplanade with an ice cream in our hands, the sun above and the ocean besides us, we kept mentioning those words and being certain of one thing: one, ten or forty years from now, all we want is to look back and have that exact same reaction about our own life. Not everything will be good, not everything will work out but as long as we have the courage to try, everything will be worth it.

Make the most of it and have no regrets.