The drugstore, like the men's clothing shop next door and the cosmetics store beyond it, was still stocked with products, the dusty shelves filled with medications that would never soothe a headache, prevent scalp itch or battle a cold. Ross guided the fire-engine-red double-decker up a steep and winding road - I quietly hoped the engine and brakes were not original parts from 1964 - passing through suburban neighborhoods where nearly every garden wall was showing cracks or missing stones. The vista point outside the Sign of the Takahe, a former roadhouse built in 1918 in the style of an English manor, offered sweeping views of the Southern Alps, Lyttelton Harbour (from which Antarctic explorers Robert Scott and Ernest Shackleton both launched expeditions) and the Canterbury Plains, - a reminder of just how flat the bulk of the city is - and of how little flat land there is in this vertical country of volcanic upheaval. From this angle, I tried to picture the same scene a year into the future, when the tallest buildings in the city's skyline will have vanished - replaced in some cases by plazas and green space, a silver lining to the land being deemed unsuitable for buildings ever again. Penguin colony Because of Christchurch's role as a launching point for Antarctic expeditions, one of the most popular attractions here is the International Antarctic Centre, an interactive museum (sometimes frighteningly so) that covers the complexity and history of a continent that most people think of as an empty block of ice. Ann and I strolled through exhibits that explained research stations, the months of solid sunlight or solid darkness, and the geology under the ice, as well as into the ominously named polar room, where we donned boots and coats and stood around while the seemingly cheerful staff recreated an arctic storm. Because of its location, outside town near the main airport, the International Antarctic Centre experienced far less of the shaking and was closed for days instead of months. While organized into sectors, the gardens feels more like a lovingly cared-for park, a prime spot for wandering, sunning, watching the punt drivers (think Kiwi gondola rides) navigating the lazy Avon river through town - and for forgetting that the nearby Central Business District resembles a heavily bombed war zone. Attempting to gauge what a comparable blow would look like in a U.S. city (based on size, population and landmarks), I envisioned San Francisco's financial district shuttered for a year, Grace Cathedral and St. Mary's both collapsed, Coit Tower in a pile of rubble and AT&T Park seemingly untouched, but red-tagged for demolition. The mall, just two blocks from Cathedral Square, now has 27 businesses - including two cafes, a department store and a lingerie shop - built almost entirely out of cargo shipping containers.
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