I could certainly write a novel about my import-riddled American life. I drive a Japanese car to the local farmers market, write my American political theory essays with Chinese ink and dance around my bedroom to country music in my Sri Lankan underwear. Even so, my study abroad experience in New Zealand has forced me to forget any notions of a trade deficit. I maintain that the United States is a nation of exports — our products are merely less tangible.

New Zealand is arguably a long ways away from the United States. Whereas we might fly to Mexico or Canada for a small getaway, Kiwis jet to places like Vanuatu, Rarotonga and even Antarctica. Its indigenous culture is also long-standing and collectively prominent. The Maori people, for example, settled in the Land of the Long White Cloud before 1300. Endemic animals, such as the reptile tuatara, originate from the ancient super-continent Gondwana.

Despite this, I was shocked to discover that American pop culture seems almost universal in scope. New Zealand listens to our music, watches our movies and eats our fast food. It is a cultural colonization — and the world is up for conquest.

The bleeding heart conservationist in me protests. I would love to preserve the New Zealand culture as it is, protecting its amazing indigenous way of life from American infiltration. I needn’t worry, however, because although American influence is ubiquitous, the Yankee message still gets filtered through an unchanging Kiwi lens. This is a nation that prizes the land and prioritizes the family; a sporty, thrifty, sturdy group of people who are famously independent.

American music makes a belated rotation through the radio and TV circuits. Songs hit the airwaves here several months after their peak in the United States, playing ad nauseum.  Throughout this semester, for example, “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas has been an inescapable tune — personally, I gotta feeling that it’s about time to give this song a rest. Kiwis also have a fondness for house music though, snagging current tunes from the United Kingdom and other parts of Europe. Jordin Sparks’ “Battlefield,” for example, may be paired with a Ministry of Sound track. New Zealand also produces a fair amount of its own surprisingly catchy pop, rock and hip-hop songs, which Kiwis seem to love most of all. Scribe, Smashproof, Ladyhawke and Gin Wigmore are all great Kiwi bands to check out.

One of the most amusing iterations of America’s cultural spread has been the mass production of its clothing. My friends here have repeatedly told me that dressing like an American is the epitome of coolness but they seem to have slightly misappropriated our fashion sense. A store here called General Issue sells American clothing from brands like Hollister, resulting in an odd flashback to my middle school wardrobe. Kiwi guys in particular amass enormous collections of Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirts, which they pair with long cargo shorts. Small gold chains and hair gel complete the look, resulting in a nation of young men who appear to have hopped out of the “My New Haircut” video. Many Kiwi men add their own twist to the outfit by sporting long socks and Puma shoes or flip-flops; it is also socially acceptable here to forego shoes altogether and walk barefoot through the city streets. Intentionally or not, Kiwis have used a smorgasbord of American ingredients to create their own unique style.

New Zealand has certainly taken to the American diet as well. KFC, McDonald’s — or “Mackers” as they call it — and Coca-Cola are omnipresent. Fast food joints seem to spring up at every corner, and the country’s obesity rates have shot up accordingly. When I finally sampled some Kiwi fast food, however, I was pleasantly surprised to find that even the cuisine had been adapted. French fries are oftentimes made from kumara, a local sweet potato, and local fish are often fried in lieu of chicken fingers. Even the Coca-Cola is made with cane sugar, not corn syrup, and local ginger beer is often preferred.

After four months here, my fear that New Zealand culture will succumb to the American way has dissipated. The Kiwis will always walk around barefoot in public, say “thank you” to the bus driver and drink themselves into oblivion several times each week.

Jessica’s column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at j.burris@cavalierdaily.com.