Why Do Kiwis Suck at Asking People Out?

For years, I thought that awkward tiptoeing around was how everybody did it. Everyone was dithering and clueless when it came to asking people out.

American sitcoms made it look easy, but they represented a fantasy. No one was actually like that.

Then I went back to England for the first time in years. I was shocked – genuinely taken aback – by how forward the guys were. They simply asked.

Now, if you’re an American, (or indeed any other nationality,) you probably find the idea of British blokes being forward laughable. Brits, surely, are the quintessential examples of awkwardness?

Well, compared to New Zealanders, they’re smooth-talking Casanovas.

Italian Renaissance Garden Hamilton

I thought maybe I was mistaken. Maybe it was just the guys I fancied.

But no.

Lots of people I’ve talked to think the same.

I was talking to an American guy at uni. He was confused that a certain Kiwi girl thought he liked her, even though he hadn’t made any moves in her direction.

“If I wanted to go on a date with her, I’d ask,” he said.

I did my best to explain that she probably wasn’t used to guys just asking, and not because she was undesirable.

Out of all the boyfriends I’ve had growing up in New Zealand, for example, only two came straight out and asked me. (The rest were a result of me asking them out, or of the awkward tiptoeing around I mentioned before.) In fact, the only guys who have overtly and confidently flirted with me have been either British, Indian or American.

Oh, wait, there was that one guy – a complete stranger – who stood at the end of my driveway and – without preamble – asked for my number when I walked past him. I was confused as to why a complete stranger would want my number, and when I refused to give it to him, he called me a bitch. He was Kiwi.

Now I’m not of the old-fashioned mindset that it should be up to the guy to ask the girl out. Kiwi girls are almost as bad at asking, despite them supposedly being the most promiscuous females on the planet. According to one rather unscientific survey done by Durex a few years ago, Kiwi women rack up considerably more bedpost notches on average than Kiwi men. Then, more recently, there was that pathetic MRA-produced article about how Kiwi women are ‘the worst’.

In general, Kiwis suck at asking people out, but why is that?

Is it because they’re too shy? Because they fear the embarrassment of rejection? Because they think they’re not good enough?

I think it’s an extension of the good old Tall Poppy Syndrome that Kiwis are famous for. As a result, Kiwis are so afraid of appearing arrogant that they can’t allow themselves to assume that anyone fancies them.

Don’t get me wrong: being humble is a positive thing. It’s definitely more attractive than the opposite. But do you really have to dither quite so much?

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Of Calf Club and Culture Shock

lambs

I hadn’t long been in New Zealand when I was confronted by the sight of sheep on the school field.

And cows.

And goats.

Walking amongst them was a surreal experience. Adding to my surprise was the fact that none of the other children were wearing shoes. Neither did they seem bothered about stepping in the ever-increasing quantity of dung.

I’d found it strange enough that there were no uniforms at my new school, and that classes finished half an hour earlier than they had in England, and that there was no fence around the school, and that everyone had a meat pie and a chocolate milkshake for lunch, and that they all thought I spoke posh even though my Retford accent was as broad as a donkey’s backside.

Now the school field had become a farmyard.

It was Calf Club Day, an annual event that had been part of rural New Zealand primary school life since the 1920s. Each kid got given their own lamb, or calf, or – err – kid to raise, and then they’d bring them into school and show them off. Then they ate them.

I wasn’t against the killing of animals. I just wasn’t used to children my age being so blasé about it. Typical bloody townie, I suppose. Still, the experience did nothing but add to my impression that the plane which had brought my family to New Zealand had also taken us back in time.

It was as though chaos, the world of the animals, was encroaching upon order, the world of the school. I didn’t like it, but I knew I should have done.

Despite feeling a little left out, I had no desire to raise a farm animal of my own. At that stage, I had no desire to take part in any aspect of New Zealand life.

Those first few months in New Zealand, I felt like I was in a dream. I kept expecting to wake up back in England. I’d write and write until my immediate surroundings disappeared. I’d wish my characters were real, so I could be friends with them.

One day, I ordered a pie and a milkshake from the school tuck shop, but they made me feel sick. The pie was like warm, wet cat food and the milkshake was revoltingly sweet. I didn’t regret the experience, however. Ordering something from the tuck shop, rather than bringing sandwiches from home, seemed to me a sign of integration; of getting into the swing of my new life.

That was over half a lifetime ago. Surely, I’m fully integrated into the culture of New Zealand now? Well I was reading something about ‘being British’ the other day, nodding along as I conformed to trait after trait. Slowly, however, I realised that I was no longer British in at least one respect: I no longer gave a fuck about formality. That’s very Kiwi.

But I’m still not a Kiwi. It’s impossible to feel like one when every new person I meet assumes I’m on holiday, or I’ve just moved here and am therefore ignorant. (Or worse, depending on the individual’s prejudices regarding the English.)

“No, I’ve lived here since I was a kid,” I say.

“Oh, you’ve still got your accent,” they say.

But I haven’t. I no longer sound like a Retfordian. How could I when I’ve spent nearly twice as long in New Zealand?

So, what is my culture? I was thinking about it last night. (I couldn’t sleep.) I may not be entirely Kiwi; I may not be entirely British. I’ve agonised so long about not fitting in, but I have friends. I have lots of friends. And they’ve all got one thing in common.

I have a culture.

I am a nerd.

female tenth doctor cosplay

Read more about

Kiwis not wearing shoes

Starting school in New Zealand

New Zealand being back in time

My accent dilemma

The Art Deco Delights of Napier

I used to think the east coast city of Napier was boring. We had a holiday there when I was a child. As far as I was concerned, the only things to recommend it were a beach – hardly unique in New Zealand – and a dolphin show. (I know. Don’t worry: that particular attraction has long since ceased to exist.) I was wholly unappreciative of Napier’s main draw, an abundance of beautiful Art Deco buildings.

NapierYou see, Napier was devastated by an earthquake in 1931. It was, in fact, the most devastating earthquake in New Zealand’s history. Despite this, they did a much better job of rebuilding it than has so far been done of rebuilding Christchurch. Of course, it was rebuilt in the style of the time, so I suppose we can be thankful that the earthquake happened in the ’30s instead of, say, the ’60s. The result is an Art Deco paradise, a situation of which the city takes full advantage.

From vintage car tours to Art Deco festivals, Napier is the place to go if you like to party like it’s… well, actually, maybe not 1939.

It also has a science museum, a Victorian prison and a chocolate museum, which is why my partner and I decided to spend a day there on our recent campervan trip. As it turned out, we didn’t end up visiting any of those places – I got too distracted shopping! I hadn’t been to Napier since that childhood holiday and, apparently, the intervening years were time enough for me to develop an interest in 1930s fashion.

Napier

There were antiques shops, vintage clothes shops, costume shops, and, naturally, Art Deco souvenir shops galore – and all encased within gorgeous façades! There was even a sword shop. If only it hadn’t been raining, we could have strolled along Napier’s famous Marine Parade, an extensive seafront stretch of pleasant gardens and decadent architecture. Even before we’d left, we’d decided we had to return one day.

Elephant Hill Winery

The other main draw of Napier is its abundance of nearby wineries. We ended up having dinner at an extremely posh establishment called Elephant Hill, only because it was right next to a fantastic free camping spot. The restaurant’s atmosphere was surprisingly cosy for such a modern-looking place and the food was divine. I had beef tartar with mustard ice-cream, which was as weird as you’d expect, but an utter taste sensation.

Elephant Hill Winery

As for the free camping spot, I highly recommend seeking it out. It was right on a stony beach, wonderfully peaceful, and had a nice toilet block. We parked our campervan so the back doors faced directly onto the Pacific Ocean, the theory being that we would open them in the morning for a glorious sunrise. But it was winter and, predictably, cloudy. The site is called Clifton Road Reserve and you can find it using this free camping map.

Napier

I can’t believe I ever thought Napier was boring. Now I can’t wait to go back!

Vikings, Trolls and a Magical Gateway

Streets in Norsewood

There’s something strange going on in Norsewood. A small, sad town on the way up to Napier, its main tourist attraction is a shop selling woollen socks. Most people don’t bother looking further than that, but I’m glad I did. Like I wasn’t going to explore a town whose street names include Odin, Thor, Hengist and Horsa!

Campervan in Tongariro National Park

My partner Tim and I were on a New Zealand campervan hire tour of the central North Island. (That’s why I didn’t post anything last week.) After a couple of days around Tongariro National Park, we were driving towards Napier and decided to spend the night at Dannevirke Holiday Park, because it had received excellent reviews on the Rankers Camping NZ app.

Dannevirke Playground Viking Longship

The first thing you notice upon entering Dannevirke is a giant Viking. That’s because Dannevirke, like the nearby town of Norsewood, was settled by Scandinavians. Dannevirke literally means Danes’ work. The roadside barriers in the town centre are decorated with shields, there’s a miniature windmill in the town square, and the children’s playground features a Viking longship!

Fantasy Cave, Dannevirke

Unfortunately, there wasn’t all that much for us to do there, and the Fantasy Cave, which looks delightful, albeit tacky, was closed. We decided to continue on to Norsewood. It was a little eerie when we arrived. No one was about, although, to be fair, it was raining. We popped into the information centre: a tiny room devoid of human life.

At least there were people in the café, which was actually quite nice. Outside, three ugly trolls were waiting for us. They led us into the Pioneer Cottage Museum. I’ve explored many such cottages throughout New Zealand and this was definitely one of the best, although the cardboard cut-outs of the early settlers were very creepy – especially when the lights suddenly went off!

Norsewood Trolls

You turn on the lights yourself when you go in, and they only stay on for a few minutes at a time, you see. I was in the barn at the back of the cottage when it went dark, surrounded by scary farming implements and sour-faced settlers, including an old woman who looked like a cross between Peter Cushing and blue vein cheese. It was like I’d suddenly entered a horror movie. I was half-convinced the figures would come to life and converge on me!

Stavkirke in New Zealand

Across the street from the Pioneer Village is a place called Johanna’s World. It’s advertised as having a traditional Norwegian log cabin, a troll cave and the southern hemisphere’s only stavkirke, or stave church. (If you don’t know what they are, google it – they look really cool!) When we stood at the wooden gate, looking in, there was no one there. It kind of seemed like someone’s garden, but there was no sign telling us not to go in, so we opened the gate.

CatImmediately, a cat came running up to us. It was super friendly, but still managed to be regal and authoritative, demanding much attention. When we started to explore the attractions, it followed us.

“Are you our tour guide?” I asked it.

It meowed affirmatively.

The cat accompanied us around the log cabin and the stavkirke. There was still no sign of human life. I began to suspect that our feline tour guide was Johanna’s World’s actual tour guide, turned into a cat by some malign magic.

“It must be the trolls’ doing,” Tim agreed.

Norsewood Troll CaveThe troll cave was actually quite disappointing. It’s not a real cave, but a children’s playroom inside a storehouse. Of course, there were no children there.

“Are we even allowed to be here?” Tim asked.

I had no idea, but the cat was delighted with our presence, and that was good enough for me. I was sorry to leave it.

We had a last look around the village before heading off, checking out an old, wooden gaol and meeting a pair of affectionate horses that stared mournfully after us as we walked away. Had all the humans in Norsewood been turned into animals? No, of course not – what about the people in the café? It was then that we discovered the Gateway.

Gateway Garden, Norsewood

We almost missed it: a tiny garden tucked away in a corner. At the back, partially obscured by foliage, was a gateway – but a gateway to what? Feeling rather like Lucy stepping through the wardrobe, I stepped through the gate and found… nothing. Just the back of the garden, a narrow strip of earth and a high fence.

“Maybe the portal only appears if you believe hard enough,” said Tim.

So I took a deep breath, pictured Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that connects our world to Asgard, and jumped through the Gateway.

Norsewood Crest

I landed on the earth in front of the fence.

I must not have believed hard enough.

Norsewood PostSo that was Dannevirke and Norsewood. If you’re into history, fantasy or Norse mythology, I recommend having a look around both, if you happen to be in the vicinity of Napier. Otherwise don’t bother. The one person we did meet seemed thoroughly confused as to why we’d want to be there. It was an old, scruffy-bearded guy in a battered pickup truck.

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“No, we’re just looking around,” Tim replied.

He gave a sceptical shrug and drove off, leaving us to wonder whether we’d just escaped the local serial killer. Either way, it was time for us to be moving on.

Norwegian Log Cabin

Kiwis Keep Dialling 911 Instead of 111 and Here’s Why

You know something? I’ve lived in New Zealand for sixteen years and I still think the emergency number is 999.

“I mean I know it’s 911…” I said to my partner the other day, to which he replied:

“No, Abby, it’s 111. 911 is America.”

Oh. I mean I knew it was 111, but… come on! I’ve lived in New Zealand since I was ten years old – how can I still be making this mistake?!

Well, maybe it’s because 999 was the number I had drilled into me as a child. As for 911, well, we get a lot of American TV shows in New Zealand.

So, I’m screwed, right? If I’m ever in an emergency where I have to dial 999 – I mean 911 – I mean 111 – oh, f**k it! See what I mean?

Or am I screwed? You know what? I’m going to google what happens when you dial 999 in New Zealand.

*A short time later…*

Well, I googled what happens when you dial 999 in New Zealand. Apparently, it goes straight to a recorded message telling you to dial 111. There must be a lot of British immigrants in New Zealand who are just as useless as I am!

According to this article from 2013, however, if you dial 911 in New Zealand, it goes straight through to the 111 emergency line. But, wait, I thought there were significantly more British immigrants than American immigrants in New Zealand? To Google!

*Another short time later…*

Yes, I was right. (Although US immigration enquiries increased significantly after the 2016 presidential election. LOL.) So, the question is why does the US emergency number work in New Zealand? Why doesn’t it just go to the same recorded message as when you dial 999?

The answer seems to be simply the influence of the US media on New Zealanders. Too many Kiwis have been corrupted by American movies and TV shows. We hear 911 quoted way more than we hear 111 and, well, in an emergency our brains go to custard. Oops.

Of course, I’m including myself as a Kiwi in this, given what I said to my partner the other day.

So, folks, remember that the New Zealand emergency number is 999 – oh, f**king hell! I swear that was accidental and not a feeble attempt at making this article funny. 111. F**king 111. The New Zealand emergency number is 111.

Healthcare in New Zealand

“The New Zealand of New Zealand”: Theatrical Life in Hamilton

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

Many New Zealanders think Hamilton is a cultural (and actual) wasteland, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Since moving here, I’ve infiltrated the local theatre scene and, believe it or not, found it to be thriving. Here to talk about it is prolific writer, actor and director Ross MacLeod.

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

The Macbeths

Ross is currently working on an original comedy sketch show called Like, Shakespeare?, a hilarious pop culture car crash between classical theatre and the Information Age. If you’d like to see how the Macbeths fair in marriage counselling, how Iago does in daytime television, or what the Merry Wives of Tinder get up to, get yourself down to Hamilton’s Meteor Theatre from August 3rd – 5th, 2017!

So, Ross, how long have you lived in Hamilton?

Twenty years. I moved here for university in 1998.

And what’s it like to live in?

I like it. Obviously, no place is perfect, but for me it has the right balance of not-too-big and not-too-small. The only thing I miss is the beach in summer.

How long have you been… well… theatrical?

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

Bottom from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’

I think I had my first lead role, the Pied Piper, in Standard 3, (or Year 5 in the current system.) I think I did quite a bit of performing and creating before then. I was in various school shows over the years, and since moving to Hamilton I’ve been pretty steadily involved.

How has the theatre scene in Hamilton changed since then, or in the last decade or so?

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

Shakespeare at the Hamilton Gardens

I think different art forms go through ebbs and flows. I arrived here not long after the Elektra theatre company had stopped operating and the Hamilton Community Arts Council had passed The Meteor over to the City Council. But drama on campus was pretty active, with Upstage, the uni drama group, producing quite a bit. That tailed off in the early 2000s, with a few independent groups working and even Hamilton Operatic having trouble, having to pass Clarence Street Theatre back to the council too. But then the pendulum started swinging back. More theatre groups started popping up and now both The Meteor and Clarence Street are back in community hands with a vibrant theatre scene. And then there are other things that have continued and evolved over time, like the Summer Shakespeare, which has been going on longer than I’ve been here.

What do you think of the New Zealand attitude to theatre in general?

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

Kryztal Kapulet, (because she thinks it’s cooler if it’s spelt with a K)

In some ways, I see Hamilton as a microcosm of the country. We’re the New Zealand of New Zealand. We produce a lot of good writers and performers, but only ever consider them as successes once they make it elsewhere. We’re a net exporter of talent.

And while we actually innovate and create challenging art, it takes time before it’s “safe” for the general population to absorb it as part of the NZ identity. Most famous NZ plays are pretty iconoclastic works. But in a lot of ways we’re quite conservative as an art consuming culture. Our tastes, in general, are for safe and comfortable things.

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

Diamantay Montague

Roger Hall is probably New Zealand’s most successful playwright and he’s perfected the niche of his work growing older with the baby boomer generation. But new works have a much tougher time. And while we seem to love musicals, getting an audience for an original one is a real uphill battle.

I think the biggest change it’s no longer taken as a given that we’re a monolithic culture. As we become more accepting of the variety in what it means to be a New Zealander, I think the attitudes to theatre will start to change, sections at a time.

That’s a really cool answer… So, will you tell us more about what you’re working on at the moment?

I’m currently working on an original comedy sketch show called Like, Shakespeare?. It’s about putting classical characters into modern settings and finding the comedy in both. It’s been great to get some of the people I work with writing for the first time in an encouraging setting. After that I have an improvised horror play in the Hamilton Fringe Festival in October, and am hopefully getting an original musical of mine on stage in 2018.

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

Two households, both as undignified as each other…

Thanks, Ross! So Like, Shakespeare? starts at 7.30pm on the 3rd, 4th and 5th of August (2017,) with a matinee performance at 2pm on the 5th, at the Meteor Theatre. If you’re anywhere near Hamilton, come and check it out because – guess what? – I’m in it! I wrote a whole bit where the Capulets and the Montagues are CHAVs on a Jeremy Kyle-like show… it’s going to be awesome. See you there!

Like, Shakespeare? at the Meteor Theatre, Hamilton 3 - 5 August 2017

… that is the Millenial Question

Oh, and check out our promotional video to see what I look like as the girl from The Ring

10 Reasons New Zealand Is Better Than England

“Better” is a subjective term, but we’re doing this anyway, so hold onto your monocles, Brits!

1) New Zealand is less crowded than England

The population of England is approximately 55 million; the population of New Zealand is approximately 5 million, and New Zealand is significantly larger than England in land area! Last time I returned to New Zealand after visiting family in England, the relief I felt was palpable. I like not having to push through crowds or queue for ages everywhere I go. I like having room to breathe.

2) New Zealand actually sees the sun sometimes

It’s hard to dispute that New Zealand has better weather than England. My mum, after sixteen years living in New Zealand, still can’t get over the fact that she can, at times, sunbathe in the middle of winter. (Then again, she does live in the Bay of Plenty. Dunedin, for example, might be different.)

3) New Zealand offers a more outdoorsy lifestyle

The aforementioned good weather, combined with an abundance of nature, makes New Zealand an absolute paradise for outdoor pursuits. As a kid, I experienced far more family picnics in New Zealand than we ever had in England.

4) New Zealand’s got way more unspoilt countryside

There are very few places you can go in England that don’t bear the mark of man. New Zealand has a greater range of natural scenery that simply takes your breath away.

5) BEACHES!

They say nearly three quarters of the population of New Zealand lives within 5 km of a beach. Going to the beach in New Zealand is an activity so common that it’s taken for granted. When I lived in England, it was a rare, long-prepared-for daytrip, and the beaches in question were cold, crowded and lined with tacky shops. New Zealand’s beaches are beautiful, clean and unspoilt by manmade structures.

Cathedral Cove

6) VOLCANOES!

When you’re a kid from England, the first time you see a steaming volcano is something special! Sights such as geysers, sulphurous lakes and mud pools that bubble like gloopy hot chocolate still seem utterly magical to me. Many people object to the eggy smell of certain places like Rotorua, but I love it. To me, it smells of excitement and wonder; of a place very different from home that fires the imagination. England, of course, hasn’t had any active volcanoes for many millions of years.

Ngauruhoe

7) New Zealand sport teams actually win occasionally

I mean I don’t give a f**k, personally, but still…

8) New Zealanders give less of a f**k about things

Sport aside, New Zealanders are way more relaxed about things than Brits are. This is probably where the “Kiwis are so nice” stereotype comes from. Brits are generally harsher towards each other, and care more about keeping up appearances and keeping up with the Joneses. I once had to explain to my Kiwi boyfriend that the way my family interacts with other is actually very warm and loving. Taking the p**s out of each other is how Brits show affection.

Mount Maunganui

9) New Zealand’s political system is arguably better than England’s

New Zealand is one of only four countries in the world that has MMP, or the Mixed Member Proportional way of voting, as opposed to FPP, or First Past the Post. MMP means that everyone’s vote has equal power, and minor political parties hold more sway. This means New Zealand is less likely to be governed by extremism, although the Kiwi attitude to life itself is a good defence against extremism. (Kiwis are relatively apathetic in general.)

I wouldn’t say New Zealand’s parliament buildings are better than England’s, though…

10) New Zealand has a more peaceful pace of life

In New Zealand, people expect less of you. You could say this discourages the populace from being the best they can be, but, at the end of the day, I think it’s a good thing. People are under far less pressure and have a much better work-life balance. They’re free to hang out at the beach and take advantage of all the natural beauty New Zealand has to offer.

Now read: 10 Reasons England Is Better Than New Zealand