Police officers who carry guns. There’s also no local police forces. It’s just the nationwide NZ Police.
Lots of car crashes. Maybe it’s the left-side driving or the calm kiwis behind the wheel, but haven’t seen any fender-benders yet.
Barren hills. All that rainfall goes to good use, sprouting trees everywhere. The random palm trees imported from America, I guess, and the pine trees grown here to sell elsewhere stick out like sore thumbs.
Natives who don’t have a bit of a tan. The weak ozone layer at the bottom of the globe means solar radiation is exceptionally strong here.
A boring night sky. We camped at several dark, desolate beaches. That left unimaginable views of the Milky Way and what we learned were a couple of planets.
Fat locals. Everything here is a workout. Auckland is known as the City of Sails, though City of Hills could work too. That’s why it reminds me so much of San Francisco. Of the 12 days we’ve been here, I’m confident there’s only been two days that I haven’t been bruised, scraped, bitten by a bug or left sore.