Seth Kugel

Compared with the culture recalibration required of Americans when they travel to some far-off parts of the world, arriving in New Zealand is a rather smooth experience. Kiwi society functions in a way both recognizable and reassuring to Americans: everyone speaks English, people shake hands when they meet, and they eat bacon and eggs for breakfast. There is no bowing or cheek-kissing or shoulder-covering or rampant unpunctuality to get used to. New Zealanders even call soccer soccer. (The sport played by hand — and foot — with an oblong ball is rugby.)

Still, another country is another country, and since it is my first visit here, I decided to jot down all the reminders that I wasn’t in Kansas (or New York or California) anymore. I expected driving on the left and accents that commit untold horrors to American vowel sounds. Here’s what took me by surprise.

— People walk around barefoot. On the street. In supermarkets. All over. It’s not everyone, but it’s a significant enough minority to be quite striking and a bit disconcerting. Sure, city sidewalks are clean. But they’re still city sidewalks.

— Prices on menus are precisely what you pay — taxes and service are already included in the menu prices. If the menu says your burger is 9.50 dollars, you’ll pay 9.50 dollars. And that’s it. (And there’s always self-serve free water.)

— The Maori language is everywhere. (The Maori were the island’s first settlers, arriving around the 14th century.) I guess I was misled by the English-sounding names of the only three cities I’d previously heard of: Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch. But I was unprepared for the hundreds of towns with Maori names: Rotorua, Whanganui and Whangarei, for example, along with plenty of street and river names. Certain words are used frequently, even by those with no Maori ancestry. “Pakeha,” for example, is a common word for people of European origin — used by both Maori and European New Zealanders. And signs on government offices and displays in museums frequently have Maori translations.

— English can be different too. Milk with 0.5 percent fat is called “trim” milk, cheese is labeled “tasty” in lieu of “sharp,” and “fine” is a commonly used weather condition alongside “overcast” or “humid.” (As in: “Here’s the weather: Christchurch and Auckland are fine; there is some rain in Queenstown.) “Takeaways” are meals to go. And parking lots offer “casual parking,” which is great for cars that you don’t want to outfit in a tux.

— Flat whites replace lattes in coffee shops, although there is some dispute about whether the two drinks are any different. (To me a flat white tastes creamier, but that could be my imagination.)

— They sure like local abbreviations. K.L. is Kuala Lampur and P.N.G. is Papua New Guinea just as D.C. is our capital and L.A. the home of our movie industry.

— Newspapers are still huge — literally. Way bigger than American newspapers are now, and bigger than I can remember their being in my lifetime.

— Shop workers say “thank you” at slightly unexpected times. Most particularly, before you actually pay them, but later than an American would say please (as in “That’s five dollars, please”). I’m still figuring it out, but it almost seems they say “thank you” as soon as you make a move to pay, like taking out your credit card. It’s both harmless and surprisingly disconcerting.

— We New Yorkers think we’re very clever at identifying ethnicities and religions and countries of origin based on looks, clothes, accents and the like: ah, he’s Jewish but she looks Italian, she’s African-American but he’s Jamaican. But in New Zealand my ethnic compass seems to have gone through a magnetic field. Meanwhile, people here can tell who’s Maori, who’s Samoan, who’s Tongan and who’s Fijian.

— Finally, Auckland’s “Walk” signs come with sound effects straight out of a 1980s video game. When the missile is shot at the alien, you can cross. It is also extraordinary to watch Kiwis wait for the signal even when no cars are coming. Is jaywalking a Northern Hemisphere thing?