1 Best to land in June, a Saturday or Sunday afternoon for choice; that way, jet-lagged, sprayed, when asked (as you will be) how you like New Zealand you can honestly say that it looks beautiful, but seems to be shut. 2 It is important to realise you’re now in a Fleur Adcock poem in reverse; that, unsettled by kowhai, wooden houses, light which peels your eyes, you must switch off your irony, work on those tell-tale vowels: Pin. Pun. Better. Now what about that greeting? No, not hullo.G’day. Don’t you want to fit in? And, for goodness sake, remember: lift your voice at the end of the sentence. 3 stop the tour the treaty is a fraud US has Ronald Reagan Johnny Cash Bob Hope NZ has Rob Muldoon no cash no hope blue yellow red stencilled sprayed scrawled there will be graffiti cryptic runes secretly self-evident 4 One night you will wake up. The earth will be moving, the bed shaking itself to pieces. Sorry, this is not the best sex you’ve ever had, merely a mild earthquake, fourish, five, not the big one. Another night you’ll wake to fire engines clanging across the gully, shouts, flames eating the sky. Welcome. Have a good one.