By Jeremy Elwood

To paraphrase, reports of Christchurch’s demise have been slightly exaggerated.

I’m currently in the garden city for my first prolonged visit since September’s Earthquake, and to the visiting eye, the place seems to be pretty vibrant. Yes, there is still a lot of damage – it’s actually quite shocking to turn into Manchester Street and see precisely how much, and how lucky many were that the quake didn’t hit a few hours earlier or later than it did, when such roads would have been filled with departing bar-goers or arriving shoppers.

Yes, many people are still exhibiting signs of the stress and frustration caused by the ongoing aftershocks, and the whole experience has taken an obvious toll on those who have been living through it. And yes, those shocks are still going on. I experienced my first one this morning, strangely enough about an hour after my hotel had been evacuated for a fire alarm, possibly making me and my fellow houseguests some of the only people to run out of a building, only to go back inside for the shaking to start.

But all that aside, the place is heaving, no pun intended. I’m here as part of the World Buskers Festival, along with a small army of street performers, burlesque acts and what seems to be half of New Zealand’s stand up comedians. It’s an annual event that Christchurch has always strongly supported, but this year does seem to have something extra about it.

Whether it’s just the relative normality imparted by the fact that the festival is going ahead despite everything, or the seizing of a chance to shrug off some of the tension for a few days, but the crowds I’ve been part of and in front of have been remarkable. I suspect the latter, as one of the big differences I feel between now and a previous visit in December is that Christchurch locals are willing, even keen, to have a laugh about all they’ve been through. They’re joking about it, and more importantly in my line of work, allowing others to do so as well.

The other big event on here at the moment is the IPC World Athletic Championships, meaning along with the carnival folk, the city is also filled with the cream of the worlds Paralympians. The national uniforms add colour to the street traffic, the hotel next to mine has Irish and Canadian flags flying from every second window, and team buses disgorge wheelchairs, sports gear and harassed looking officials in equal numbers. I even watched a guy get into a lift with a javelin today, something I’ve never seen outside a few off-colour jokes in my adolescent years.

The overall feeling is of a city getting back on its feet, and on with its life. Christchurch is proving that not only can it carry on, dodging debris and working through the occasional rock and roll show put on by Mother Earth, but it can throw a hell of a party as it does so. With the South Island suffering so much tragedy in 2010, I can only hope that this augers a better start to 2011.