Polly Evans - Kiwis Might Fly: A New Zealand Adventure

FRIED EGGS WITH CHOPSTICKS

Funny and fascinating. Evans includes history, legend and
many, many wry observations. One thing's for sure, this isnt
the China that visitors to the 2008 Summer Olympics in
Beijing are going to see.

Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Evans writes travel lit at ground level: noisy, colorful, and entirely delightful. Comparisons to Bryson, Cahill, and Theroux would not be unwarranted.

Booklist

Highly readable Fried Eggs with Chopsticks is gutsy and funny.

South China Morning Post

Funny and astute, this is an engrossing portrayal of one of the world's most fascinating countries.

Wanderlust (UK)

Offering a fresh take on travel writing, Fried Eggs with Chopsticks is honest and a lot of fun.

Trip (UK)

A charming, insightful and humorous view of life
on the roads and rails in the People's Republic of China.

That's Shanghai

An entertaining companion for armchair travelers who enjoy women's magazine-style writing.

Publishers Weekly

IT's NOT ABOUT THE TAPAS

A highly likable debut As unpretentious as a tapas bar, and as brimming with savory morsels.

Kirkus Reviews

A fast-paced but reflective memoir about Evans's six-week
bike pilgrimage around Spain, complete with sherry
binges, mongrel-dodging and watching Lois y Clark in
dumpy motels.

People, Great Reads: Travel

Sampling everything from prawns to paella, Evans discovers
one of the best payoffs of traveling by bike: she can eat
more without gaining a pound.

Shape magazine

Evans derisive wit is in the best tradition of xenophobic
sarcasm, parliamentary put-downs and Monty Python
moments. I found myself more than willing to
go along for the ride.

San Francisco Chronicle

This book is great! An action-packed story of
determination, gall, and joie de vivre in an ongoing
tapestry of history and scenic beauty crafted by an author
of supreme talent.

Mountain Biking Magazine

Bicycle enthusiasts rejoice! Evans spices the account
of her agony with amusing tidbits from Spanish history,
culture, and cuisine. It's hard not to admire her nerve
and gutsy spirit.

Library Journal

A hilarious account of an epic adventure around bike-mad Spain.

Daily Express Book of the Week (UK)

This true triumphant tale will appeal to anyone who's eager for adventure.

OK! (UK)

IT's NOT ABOUT THE TAPAS
FRIED EGGS WITH CHOPSTICKS

About the Author

Polly Evans studied modern languages at Cambridge University before joining the editorial team at a leading London publisher. After four years she moved to Hong Kong, where she worked as a journalist before embarking on a bicycle journey around Spain. This became the subject of her first book, It's Not About the Tapas. Polly is also the author of Fried Eggs with Chopsticks, which describes her journey around China. She now lives in London where she is at work on her next book, On a Hoof and a Prayer, about her attempts to learn to ride in horse-mad Argentina.

Visit her website at www.pollyevans.com.

For my godson, Alistair, and my nephew, Zac

Acknowledgments

The people of New Zealand really are immensely helpful almost fanatically so, in factso I should probably start off by saying a big thank-you to all four million of them for their gestures of friendliness that made my journey so memorable.

Special thanks to Ian and John Fitzwater at Adventure New Zealand Motorcycle Tours & Rentals (www.gotournz .com) for providing me with a fantastic bike and for their faultless recommendations of the best roads, the most comfortable hotels, and the most outstanding restaurants.

Thanks to Gordi Meyer, who looked after me in Auckland, took me for a very exciting ride in a police car, and bravely gave me the telephone numbers of his friends around the country.

Sir Henry Every very kindly spent many hours tracking down members of the New Zealand branch of his family and providing me with contacts, so many thanks to him, and to his relatives Chris and Adrienne Rodgers and Richard and Phyllis Bruce for their hospitality.

For their company, comfortable beds, and insights into strange Kiwi ways, thanks also to Mary, Bill, and Tiggy Farrell, Eileen Birch, Morris and Fay Wharekawa, Lawrie and Carol Chandler, Pete and Skiff, the Hansen family, Frano Barker and Michael Keith, Lee Matson, Dave and the shearers, Frances and Brian Ward, Brendon, Veronica, and Sandy Park, Kyle and Marion Mewburn, and to Sheena Ashford-Tait and Duncan Ashford for the night in the camper van.

Andrea Brunetti at Dainese and Dan at Chiswick Honda kitted me out in a fantastic set of black leathers that, dare I say it, were really rather attractive. Well, I thought so anyway.

And to Jane Gregory and Broo Doherty and all at Gregory and Company, and to Francesca Liversidge and everyone at Transworld, thanks as ever for their friendship, enthusiasm, and professional expertise.

Contents

16. The Ford Cortina Capital of the World

Rocking the Cradle

SO, SIN, MY NEUROLOGIST friend, asked brightly, are you going to wear one of those motorcycle helmets that covers the back of your head up to your fourth cervical vertebra, so that if you crash youre left quadriplegic, or are you going to get one of those higher-cut ones so that youre killed outright instead?

My stomach lurched. I was deeply afraid.

It had all started a few months earlier, when Id read a survey that claimed the ordinary Kiwi bloke was about to turn up the toes of his gum boots. He was, apparently, hanging up his sheep shears and moving to the city. A new masculinity was rearing its pretty, hair-gelled head. Men were waxing their backs. In ten years, said the survey, the traditional, hirsute New Zealand man would be dead.

The early New Zealanders had been virile and vigorous. The Maori were fearless warriors. Then the Europeans had arrived after arduous journeys across thousands of miles of treacherous ocean. The life that awaited them was hard.

New Zealand men grew up to be strong. They slaughtered whales, panned for gold, and felled timber. They learned to play rugby. Fearlessly, they drank home-brewed beer. Then something went wrong. The environment changed; the species had to mutate. Volcanic eruptions? Tectonic shifts? An overboiling of the primordial soup? No. It was none of these things. It had more to do with washing machines from Japan.