MAGINE this hypothetical situation: New Zealand referenda become binding on governments and Kiwis vote for partition of the country along the Cook Strait separating North and South Islands. I would choose to live in the latter.
   The climate may be cooler, but to compensate for that, the days are longer in the summer and, most importantly, people are just that much more fair dinkum.
   This peculiar Australasian term is harder to define than the Danish-conceived jantelagen (Lucire, June 30, 2002) but it means something along the lines of ‘genuine’ or ‘honest’. In the Otago area, where Dunedin is the principal city, there’s plenty of genuine behaviour that puts New Zealand’s North Island cities to shame. Being a long-time resident of Wellington and a frequent traveller to Auckland while I am Down Under in its warmer months, we North Islanders have a lot to relearn.
   For all that Mr Peter Jackson has done for the film industry, he will probably be the first to tell you that when it comes to enacting new policies—such as tax breaks for filmmakers—the Wellington establishment is the first to say, ‘No.’

Here, there is a greater sense of “being a New Zealander” than in any other city. Elsewhere there is a parochial and inappropriate desire to divide people into groups of Caucasian, Maori, Asian and so forth

Which is why, of course, Wellington is such a fine place to have a political capital, where Sir Humphrey Appleby would have a field day rejoicing at the State Opera House and the advertising-free Concert FM station on the wireless. Politicians do their darnedest to hold people back with economical, theoretical claptrap that serves people far less than simply being genuinely Kiwi.
   We'll take none of this Applebyism, thank you very much, say the Dunedinites. In the series of interviews I conducted with the city’s fashion designers—one has run, and several others are forthcoming at the time of writing—it was not surprising to hear of established designers literally creating competitors from people who asked them to lend a hand. This struck a chord—after all, it is a principle on which this magazine was founded. If we at Lucire had a constitution, this would be on it. If this country had a constitution, this should be on it. There is no procrastination and finding reasons not to do things. Dunedin people roll up their sleeves and muck in.
   There was no better example than the ID Dunedin Fashion Show, which I had come to attend. Dunedin City Council’s Jennifer Hooker was able to arrange my trip here with Ryan Craig of Tourism Dunedin within days: it’s hard to see that happening in some other places. The show arrangements themselves were impeccable, right down to the goodie bags and the seating. When it comes to goodie bags, size matters—we were made to feel a trifle more special with Arthur Barnett bags that were larger than the regular audience’s.
   At the world’s longest catwalk, fashion media were grouped together—myself with Stacy Gregg of the Sunday Star–Times—and everyone just felt happy. The stress had disappeared.
   It was not confined to the fashion industry, but was apparent everywhere: taxi drivers and chauffeurs would engage you in a conversation about how to fix things in society and before long, you'd discover that they, or an extended family member, had embarked on a venture to do just that. After being ferried from Dunedin Airport to Cargill’s Hotel (678 George Street, 64 3 477-7983, www.cargills.co.nz) by Classic Jaguar Limousines (see Lucire, March 6, 2003) and before I rented a car from Hertz, I discovered southern hospitality with Dunedin’s bus drivers—whom, unlike certain politicians of both the ruling party and one other, didn’t act surprised that a non-Caucasian of east Asian origin hopped on to his vehicle.
   Dunedin is far from hick, which is the image I had been given in the North Island. In fact, it proved to be more cosmopolitan, evidenced by, for example, a female mayor of Indian ethnicity. And the Chinese have arguably been here longer than in any other place in New Zealand. Here, there is a greater sense of “being a New Zealander” than in any other city. Elsewhere there is still a parochial—and inappropriate for a nation of fewer than four million—desire to divide people into groups of Caucasian, Maori, Asian and so forth.
   Service, in general, was superior in this city when compared to any other in New Zealand—probably another reason people are happy to help each other. If you live in a civilized town and are not annoyed at poor treatment, you have a clearer head to perform your tasks. Dunedin might not voice that point-blank, but it’s there, underlying everything people do. ‘It’s freedom, baby,’ as Austin Powers said. ‘Now we have freedom and responsibility.’
   Another example of the freedom–responsibility connection was at Hertz’s Dunedin depot (121 Crawford Street, 64 3 477-7385), which was accommodating—while I had rented often enough from the company in the United States and Europe, it was my first time Down Under and the folks there went out of their way to get me a smaller car when all they had in the fleet during my phone call were full-sized Ford Falcons. It was all a far cry from the moment my Air New Zealand flight touched down in Dunedin.

IRST IMPRESSIONS were good but not great. It was the first time I had come in on a runway and spotted dairy cattle next to it. While cows weren’t roaming beneath where planes should be taxiing—they were fenced and a very safe distance away, so there were no signs such as ‘Mooove away’—it’s not what I expected to see after airports like Frankfurt and Singapore, with spacious sterility their aim.
   It’s easy to take this jab at Dunedin, a city founded by Scottish Free Church and reputed to be an antipodean Edinburgh (note the name similarity). It later became apparent that any Dunedin joke—like many American jokes—are founded in a sense of envy.

CONTINUED
 

TOP OF PAGE: Dunedin’s Municipal Buildings housing the Visitor Centre and ground-floor restaurant, the Hungry Frenchman. The impressive St Paul’s Cathedral stands behind. ABOVE, FROM TOP: The clock tower above the Municipal Centre. St Paul’s Cathedral in the Octagon. The statue of Robert Burns, honouring Dunedin’s Scottish heritage. Another example of the Scottish heritage: the sign for Mandeno House on George Street, in the Charles Rennie Mackintosh lettering.