If the transition from London to Bombay is a culture shock, you should try Bombay to New Zealand. From too many people to too many sheep, from a smog-filled metropolis to a giant adventure playground, from the claustrophobe's nightmare to the agoraphobe's. Ten days here and you'll never think of Moreton-in-Marsh as the back of beyond again. Even the big cities aren't all that big. Auckland has a population of almost a million, and next comes the capital Wellington, with a third as many. Hamilton, New Zealand's fourth-biggest city, would only qualify as a small town in England. There is no national newspaper, but three main local ones: Auckland has the New Zealand Herald, Christchurch The Press, and Wellington The Dominion. Some of the stories would struggle to make a parish newsletter. "Store goes hi-tech to thwart trolley thieves," screamed one headline on page three of the NZ Herald. "Bad weather likely to foil aerial moth spraying," revealed another, on page five.

Not that small isn't beautiful. Pass through any town and you'll do well to find more than a handful of litter or a spray-can's-worth of graffiti. The front lawns, meanwhile, would win a Britain in Bloom award every year. Fresh air and breathing space seem to encourage a less selfish approach.

The scenery is just as remarkable. The flight down to Christchurch takes in snow-kissed peaks and lush, green plains. The drive up the east side of the South Island is all rugged coastline and thick vegetation. The ferry ride across the Cook Strait from Picton to Wellington beats Norwegian fjords and Greek islands. The variety is breathtaking - and so is the lack of traffic jams.

But New Zealand is more than small-town gentility and stunning landscape. At weekends, the entire nation comes out to play, turning the ghost towns of midweek into all-night party venues. If you're tucked up early on Sunday night, it's probably because you haven't been to bed since Thursday. The fun can turn sour - last Saturday at 4am the gentle streets of Hamilton hosted a brawl involving about 20 people, and the town has its fair share of 1950s-style hot-rodders - but on the whole there's a good-natured atmosphere out on the tiles.

A bigger concern are the gangs - mainly Maori - that have sprung up over the last 15 years in places like Palmerston North and the suburb of Highbury. There was even a gangland killing on Waitangi Day (New Zealand's national day), which is almost unheard-of over here. Gang names like Black Power and Mongrel Mob are making the news almost every day.

It's said that there isn't a single Maori left whose blood hasn't been diluted somewhere along the line by the pakeha (the European settlers), and the tension here is less palpable than it is between Australia's whites and Aborigines. Yet the calls for Maori sovereignty - or, to give it its indigenous name, tino rangatiratanga - grow stronger by the day.

There are international issues too. New Zealand may be a small fish in a big pond (and the Pacific Ocean looks vast when you watch the national weather forecast), but it's desperate to swim free. Australia were recently asked in no uncertain terms not to comment on New Zealand domestic policy, while the prime minister, Helen Clark, is a staunch republican and will be away on other business when the Queen comes to visit in a few days' time.

The countryside is pure picture-postcard, and the hospitality warm and laid-back, but this is a proud nation with issues just like any other. As the locals almost certainly wouldn't say, plus ça change, plus c'est la meme chose.

Lawrence Booth is assistant editor of Wisden.com. His reports from New Zealand will appear throughout the series.

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