A few years ago, on a visit back to New
Orleans, I had a truly fantastic dinner with CS Harris, CharlesGramlich and Sphinx Ink. (And Candy's husband Steve, but he doesn't
have a blog to link to) That night, Candy said something deeply
alarming...
I knew she'd lived in Australia. I
didn't know she'd been there for over fifteen years, or that she'd
been heartbroken to return to the US.
I remember feeling a chill. I'd only
lived in New Zealand twelve or thirteen years at that point.
Suddenly, those years didn't seem long enough.
Why, I asked, would she ever leave a
place she loved? Her answer:
Family.
What a relief. I was about as alone,
and as lonely as a body could get. My parents were used to having me
on the other side of the world. Family, that single,
treacherous, weighted word, had no hold on me.
I was safe.
But things change. Things always
change.
Now I have a daughter. And lost a
father. Either would be a pretty major event, and I got both less
than six months apart. No surprise that my perspective has shifted.
My world is different now, and every time my girls smile at me, I'm
reminded that my decisions don't just affect me anymore.
We're leaving New Zealand.
It's been a hard decision, but in the
end it comes down to carrots and sticks.
On the one hand, we could raise our
daughter here. I make a decent
living, enough to support us all. But the cost of living is high--
high enough that we get by, and not much else. Since the earthquake
destroyed our housing stock, rents have gone insane. Our house is
warm and dry, and over $2000 a month. The average price to buy-- the
average, now-- is $485,000, and banks don't want to talk to you
without a 20% deposit. For me, like a lot of people here, home
ownership is out of the question.
And I want a house.
It never bothered me before-- most artist are so far below the
poverty line that just paying the bills is a triumph-- but now that's
just not enough. I want equity. Permanence. Something to pass on to
Charlotte when I go. In the US, the average house is $136,000, and
there are a lot more options for finance. Like, a lot. As dreams go,
that one's in easy reach.
And then there's
family. My wee girl already lost one grandparent. I want her to see
as much as possible of the ones she has left. Moving, I can put her
family in England and her family in Atlanta within a few hours of
her. And afford to make those trips too.
I'm going to miss
Christchurch. I really am.
But this city is
broken. The city I loved, with its relaxed and easygoing people, its
heritage buildings and Edwardian feel, its art galleries and opera
house and vibrant public life, that city is gone. It died one
afternoon in 2011. The place we live now is road cones and single
lane traffic, the country's largest consumers of alcohol and
antidepressants, fields of rubble and clattering jackhammers.
Government types in ill-fitting suits are using my city as a testing
ground for conservative social engineering. No matter how badly an
idea has been repudiated in the past, they're determined to try it
again.
The social
engineering aside, our Mayor and City Council swear that all the
other inconveniences are temporary. Just stick with us, they say, and
this place will be even better than it was before!
In twenty or thirty
years.
I love this place.
These people. I'll never be able to fully leave-- especially because
my daughter is a triple-citizen, and I want her to be a part of her
New Zealand heritage. So I'll come back. To visit.
Meantime, I've got
a life to build.
