We have more in common with that other Dunedin than a name, writes Gillian Thomas in the first of a three-part series.
Ever googled Dunedin and found yourself in Florida?
I went to Florida and found myself in Dunedin.
I couldn't resist.
I reasoned if I was holidaying in the sunshine state it would be silly not to check out the world's other Dunedin.
On the internet, I found the city had a Radio Dunedin!
What was there to lose?
I emailed the radio host, Lisa Dozois.
''I'm coming to Dunedin and would love to find out more about your city and maybe you would like to know more about mine?''
Lisa replied with outstretched arms.
''Thank you for reaching out from afar! I am a very knowledgeable tour guide and would love to show you and your husband around Dunedin, Florida.''
When Tourism Dunedin got wind of my impending visit they slipped a gift in my bag to leave with City Hall and, optimistically, handed me a DVD of Dunedin, ''just in case you get an opportunity to show it''.
On Florida's west coast, little Dunedin, population 37,000, covers just 27sq km of land and 46sq km of water.
En route the state highway takes us over the top of Tampa, Florida's third-largest city. Dunedin is just 40km away.
The ''Welcome to Dunedin'' sign, complete with a kilt-cladded Scotsman playing the bagpipes, leaves us in no doubt we have arrived.
Main St Dunedin sits in shade.
Large oak trees are draped in Spanish moss, which hangs like delicate lace.
Pioneer Park is a feature in the middle of downtown. Traffic moves slowly, 15mph (24kmh).
There appear to be more pedestrians and cyclists than cars.
What is most striking is what is not here; billboards, corporate chains, large parking lots and there are no parking meters.
Dunedin's downtown merchants own their own family businesses, an eclectic mix of bars and restaurants, antique shops, boutiques and art galleries.
Having just had the corporate blur of the east coast in our face, we immediately sense Dunedin is an oasis of charm, character and creativity.
Magnetically we are drawn to the Dunedin Marina at the foot of Main St. Yachts and launches bob on the water.
The breeze coming off the Gulf of Mexico is welcome in the sweltering 35degC.
It's Florida's summer, too hot for tourists I'm told!
The waterfront bar and eatery lures us in and, for the first time since we've been in the States, there's nothing fried on the menu!
Gulf oysters are not as meaty as those from Bluff but they wash down well with a Dunedin Brewery pale ale.
Locals at the next table ask where we are from.
''New Zealand, oh, where the water goes down the plughole in the opposite direction!''
The Zimmerman trial has followed us, it's on the bar's widescreen TV.
Florida, we've been told, is America's appendix, ''No-one knows why it's here or when it's going to burst''.
We are staying in Scotland St, just back from Main St.
Our host, Sherry-lee Cook, warmly welcomes us into her 115-year-old historic Dunedin house, which she has lovingly restored.
It was once the home of Dunedin's railway station-master.
Sherry-lee is a mine of local intelligence, ''Kelly's can't be beaten for breakfast but get there early on Sunday to avoid the church people.
Casa Tina for the best Mexican, Pensara just opened, great Italian food, sunset drinks at the marina, Chic a Boom Room has music every night, two breweries ... all within walking distance.''
A car pulls up in Scotland St and Lisa, my internet pal and our volunteer Dunedin ambassador, walks into our lives.
She has the next two days planned for us and takes the wind out of my sails by announcing that first up tomorrow is a mayoral reception at City Hall!
''Everyone's really excited about meeting you!''
We opted for Mexican that night at Casa Tina.
The food was fantastic but the decor was an even better feast.
The smiles of skeletal mariachi bounce off the wall, papier-maché angels, charro and senoritas adorn mantelpieces, gold gilded icons crisscross the walls; we are on the Gulf of Mexico.
The barman encourages my photo snapping by lining up four tequila-filled skulls.
''Meet Eenie Meenie Miney Mo!''
We stop at Skips Bar and get chatting to some young people who are having fun with a pair of glow-in-the-dark sunglasses that one of them has invented.
They're old Dunedin High School mates having a bit of a reunion.
Some now live and work in Tampa.
They screech with laughter telling us how a former mayor of Tampa, once, without thinking, called her citizens ''Tampons''.
''She never lived it down!''People walking by exchange greetings; I recognise that Octagon ambience.
Breakfast at Kelly's is as American as it gets. Pancakes, grits, eggs, salsa, fried potato ... the waiter's spiel is exhausting.
We're advised not to eat outside before 9am, ''Give the sun time to deal to the mosquitoes''.
We exit to the now familiar farewell.
''Have a good one!''
We arrive at City Hall.
The New Zealand flag is on display.
Mayor Dave Eggers warmly greets Richard and I.
''Do people call your city 'Doon-din?' he inquires, laughing.
''We get it all the time!''
We compare population size and I mention how our annual influx of students swells our numbers.
''We get seasonal surges too,'' says Dave, ''the 'snow birds' come from the north to escape their winter, and in spring we are the official training home of the Toronto Blue Jays.
"Florida is adopted by many of the North American major league baseball teams for their spring training but it's quite a coup for a city our size to score one and it's a real boost for our tourism economy.''
The mayor has done his own research and produces a fact sheet on our Dunedin.
''I don't think there is any history of any official communication between our two cities, yet despite obvious differences, it seems we have so much in common,'' he tells me.
The city librarian tells me she often receives emails from borrowers in Dunedin, New Zealand, worried about their overdue books!
Museum staff have spent hours searching family trees only to discover the roots are oceans away!
There may have been no official communication between the two cities but there has been a lot of talking going on.
I'm grateful it's a relatively informal gathering.
I tell them I'm feeling something of an imposter, this is not an official visit, I just thought it was a good idea to come and find out about Dunedin!
They don't seem to mind, and are eager to hear everything I have to say.
I traverse our two cities' common ground - Scottish roots, wildlife sanctuaries, beautiful beaches, micro-breweries, vibrant arts community, a thriving farmers market and an annual calendar jammed full of festivals and events.
I offer everyone a taste of Dunedin and as the box of Jaffas does the rounds I talk about our chocolate carnival, Baldwin St, the Jaffa race and how we fondly refer to Aucklanders.
The DVD with extensive footage of the harbour, Otago Peninsula and the coastline takes everyone's breath away.
I'm almost feeling this is overkill.
I've come to experience their city but am blowing them out of the water with mine.
The tide soon turns.
Lisa has us captive and we are off on our own journey of discovery.
Lisa and her family have enjoyed living a street back from the waterfront. She points out the park benches.
''Anyone can come and enjoy the coast and the sunsets. Dunedin's one of the few waterfront communities on Florida's coastline where high-rise hotels and condominiums don't block the sea views.''
The Gulf of Mexico stretches out beyond the intercoastal waterway and is home to Dunedin's Honeymoon Island and Caladesi Island.
Originally Hog Island, a hurricane split them in two in 1921.
Dunedinites don't have to earthquake-strengthen their homes, they have to hurricane-proof them.
Lisa tells me about the last big threat, Hurricane Charlie in 2004.
''It was heading for Tampa and we'd boarded up our windows. At the last minute it changed direction and went south to Port Charlotte. You just never know what they will do.
"My husband, who has lived in the Caribbean, is impossible. If he sees that something is brewing in Africa, he's practically got us on a plane out of here!''
We arrive at Andrews Memorial Chapel.
Built in 1888 it was the First Presbyterian Church of Dunedin.
An example of early Florida Victorian architecture with its Gothic arches and hand-carved ceiling of native ''heart of pine'', it was saved from demolition in 1970 by the Dunedin Historical Society and moved to Hammock Park.
There's a butterfly garden in the park, no artificial heating needed here.
I notice a small orange painted on the church door.
Lisa explains that a local artist has painted more than 100 oranges on buildings in Dunedin.
''Each one is slightly different. It's become almost an underground signature of Dunedin, harking back to the days of the booming citrus industry.
Most of Dunedin is built on old orange groves, which in the late 1800s replaced the early cotton fields.''
We are still talking oranges when we enter the Dunedin Historical Society and Museum.
The receptionist immediately jumps up and raises her trouser leg to show us her tattooed orange.
''And I am the only person with one!'' she proudly declares.
If you go
From Orlando travel to Tampa on Interstate Highway 4 West, then Interstate Highway 275 South to Tampa Airport/State Road 60 Exit, which will take you over Tampa Bay via the Courtney Campbell Causeway to Clearwater. Once you reach the coastline follow it north for three miles to arrive in Dunedin. Total distance 106 miles.
Next week
• Celts, craft beer and honeymooning in Dunedin, Florida.
