Dunedin, New Zealand: Zeitgeist and Couch Burning
By Alexandra Franzen

After spending years indulging in often the hedonistic delights that are West Hollywood, I needed a radical lifestyle change. Dunedin, the largest city on New Zealand’s South Island, seemed the ideal place to decompress and work on a few writing projects that were nagging at me.

I came to New Zealand seeking peace and quiet.
I longed for the rolling green hills of “Lord of the Rings.”
I wanted a taste of the famously laid-back Kiwi lifestyle.
I craved steaming pots of strong English Breakfast tea and buttery biscuits.
I needed a safe haven, detached from the increasingly frenetic pace of the United States.
I wanted hobbits.
I wanted sheep.

New Zealand proved to be a country of unexpected contradiction. Five months after arriving in Aoteroa (the indigenous Maori name for New Zealand), “the Land of the Long White Cloud” continues to surprise and inspire me.

Dunedin is first and foremost a university town. The University of Otago is the heart of the city, and its 20,000 students are the pulse. The constant influx of fresh, motivated, creative young Kiwis has shaped Dunedin into a vibrant cultural center. This was hardly the quaint, conservative, former gold-mining town I had expected.

To be quite blunt, Dunedin is surprisingly hip. Dunedin is progressive. Dunedin provides a supportive atmosphere for local artists to showcase their work at funky galleries and outdoor marketplaces, up-and-coming musicians to build avid fan bases at clubs, and academic types to debate esoteric philosophy over some of the best espresso in the Western world.

Local and foreign theatre troupes and dance companies flow through two major theatre venues on a weekly basis. A myriad of restaurants, bars, and cafes cater to every appetite, from traditional mutton-and-potato Kiwi tucker to bold, authentic Eastern fare. Hollywood Blockbusters, foreign indies, and indigenous films are equally represented at four cinemas, all within ten minutes walk from the city’s vibrant hub: the Octagon.

On any given afternoon, the Octagon plays host to Scottish bagpipers, elderly ladies peddling homemade jams and knitwear, anarchist students selling books on subversive ideology and anti-Bush bumper stickers, and local poi dancers practicing their moves. For such a relatively small city, Dunedin’s range of cultural delights is impressive. Yet this “young” city is not without its adolescent awkwardness.

Every city, from the sprawling metropolis to the rustic country village, has a dark side. Dunedin is no exception. A local newspaper offers nearly daily commentary concerning the issue of unruly and destructive university students, or “Scarfies,” as they are colloquially known.

The paper’s criticism is not unfounded. Scarfies, while a vital source of the city’s energy, have a rather disturbing predilection towards hyperbolic expressions of masculinity—a phenomenon often referred to in New Zealand as the “rugby mentality.” This rebellious mentality asserts itself in the form of drunk driving, noise disturbances, and bizarre tradition known as “couch burning” (which is exactly what it sounds like).

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