What's the Catch?

I have found my American skepticism to be a liability in a country of honest, forthright people. Mindy and I are almost constantly on the lookout for “the catch,” but are about to learn there is none.

After a grueling flight and still more grueling search for suitable accommodations in a city lacking the familiar “motel row,” we arrived at our motel – the “New Haven” or the “Blue Haven,” depending on what directory or local you consult. Sara greeted us, took our name and, upon learning that we had just arrived in the country, insisted we go to our room straight away to rest. I balked and, in American fashion, produced two forms of identification, three forms of payment, and a DNA sample. Sara was determined that we rest. “No worries, we’ll get the specifics later …you need your rest.” I have tried several times to “settle up” with this dogged woman to no avail. Here it is our fourth day in this room and Sara still has nothing other than Mindy’s name, which I don’t know that she even wrote down.

Like most conscientious Americans, we are relentless price-shoppers. As most who read this back in the States can attest, the prices vary widely in America depending on the merchant’s resources, overhead, location, and greed, among other variables. At least within Auckland, we have not found that to be universally true in Aotearoa (New Zealand). Several times, we have undergone an exhaustive goose-hunt for a better price, only to discover the first price was as good as any.

Another example: Mindy and I were to make use of our motel’s laundry facilities. We ventured to the laundry room to investigate the coinage needed to operate the machines. We were greeted by a plump, clammy man, presumably Sara’s husband. He asked if we wished to do laundry. We answered that we did indeed. He asked, “Do you want us to put it through for you?” I had no idea what he meant. Upon further inquiry, he was asking whether we would like housekeeping to do our laundry when it did the motel’s wash. Displaying blind American self-sufficiency, Mindy and I politely refused, choosing to do our own laundry rather than having it done for us. After all, there must be a “catch” – we would be charged an exorbitant price, our meager clothes would be pinched, or worse. The sweaty man was insistent and provided us with a laundry basket that we were to fill and leave in our room. Our clothes were washed and folded with great care and for no charge.

Apparently there are still people that you can trust. On both trips, we have found the people of New Zealand to be among the warmest and friendliest we have known. Our home state of Texas claims to be the friendliest place on Earth, but I do not sense the palpable selflessness in Texans that I do in the Kiwis that we have met thus far.