By the time we'd bought the car I was eager to get out of Christchirch and start to see the more remote parts of New Zealand. Since I knew that I'd have to return by this evening for the Super 12s rugby game in the city, we decided to take a one night trip along the peninsula sticking out from Christchurch to a town called Akaroa.

 

In this time I learned two things about my new car.

 

First of all, it runs without a key in the ignition. Seriously. You can turn it on, take out the key, drive around, and then put the key back in to turn it off.

 

Secondly, the gas gage is wholly inaccurate. Here's the story:

 

By the time we reached a small town called Diamond Harbour on our windy way over to Akaroa along the mountainous peninsula, there was about a quarter tank of gas left. Or so the meter told us. We passed a small gas station and gave a brief thought to filling up but then decided to just head for the next town, Port Levy which looked like just as sizeable a town as Diamond Harbour. We were wrong. There was nothing in town, no gas station, no market, niente, nada. I even knocked on some woman's door to ask where the nearest gas station was. She said to head right back to Diamond Harbour because it was the closest (about 14 km) and there was no way we'd make it all the way to Akaroa on a nearly empty tank. So we tried and came to a halting stop about halfway up one of the first hills to get out of town. As Bernt rolled backwards down the hill to find a safer place to park than a narrow windy road, I managed to hail down a car heading for Diamond Harbour. Two nice Kiwi women, Leslie and Moya agreed to give me a ride over to the gas station as long as I'd find my own way back. When Leslie found out that I was writing a cookbook, she immediately offered her own special recipe, which you can find on the recipe part of my site. I'll have to give it a try when I get home, though you can try it for me and let me know how it tastes. At the gas station, I filled up the 19 Liter jerrycan that came with our car and managed to finagle a ride back from a Scottish ex-pat who considered it his good deed of the day to drive me all the way back to where I ran out of gas. He's been in the country for 16 years now and works as a car inspector so I got a little nervous when we approached my new car, afraid that he would say that it was a piece of crap (well, he wasn't driving much better himself). He even stayed to make sure our car started up again when we filled it up.

 

We crossed our fingers and set out for Akaroa on a partially filled tank. According to our calculations, the car should be able to go nearly 190 kms on 19 liters of gas. But at this point we didn't trust anything or anyone. Also at this point, our gas meter read half full and we knew it definitely couldn't be.

 

By the time we made it to Akaroa nearly 2 hours later, the small coastal town was dark and quiet. And it was only 8:00PM. I had a hankering to try fish and chips and we made it into the shop just as it was closing. For about 10 dollars NZ (around 6 bucks US) we had chips (AKA french fries), fish, and kumara chips (I think kumara is sweet potato). That restaurant really has a good system. They whip out a big metal basket, throw in all the food, and dunk it in boiling oil for 5-10 minutes till everything has been sizzled. That's it. Whatever you want, it's fried to a crisp. By the time we'd finished both of us felt sick to our stomachs. I dont' think that fish and chips is going to me a frequent dish for me- not enough fresh or green in it. I spent the rest of the evening walking around town looking for ice cream. No such luck. Everything but fancy French restaurants (Akaroa was nearly a French settlement before the English barged in and took it for themselves and still the street names are French) and a few bars that didn't look so hot. There was one house party that had more action than the rest of the town combined but they never invited us in even after we stopped to chat with them. The evening was also spent looking for a place to park the van. Now that I don't have to waste time looking for hostels or motels, my worrying is transferred to finding and ideal and legal place to park my car. Any old parking lot should theoretically do, but ideally I look for bathrooms and a water source nearby. After wandering around town for a bit, we found a public toilet right near the waters edge that sat right next to a parking lot. Perfect. I'm learning how to be a bum!