Cremating a steak is the worst crime in South Africa.
Having grown up in Pretoria, I like meat about as much as rugby, and after 44 hours of travel (in economy class), any rump would be tender.
Yes, 44. The jet lag and airport hangover, mixed with pungent body odour and muscle soreness, is becoming an annual event for me. I've been fortunate to visit my family every Christmas since settling in good ol' Dunners in 2008.
Dunedin may be 45 degrees South, but what hit me when I exited the OR Tambo Airport door was a wave of heat that felt pretty close to 45degC. I wanted to say "well done" on a good landing, but in that heat I was almost "well done" myself.
After four years in the Deep South it's fair to say my body has acclimatised to Dunedin weather.
Thanks to the 2010 Football World Cup, the airport is in great nick, a positive after-effect from a major worldwide event, as anyone travelling through Auckland International Airport will appreciate.
Catching up with old friends over a few beers and a braai, the conversation quickly shifts to New Zealand and the Rugby World Cup.
With all the differences between the countries, at the heart of these two nations lie some unique similarities.
Every man, in South Africa and New Zealand, has his own opinion on how you should flip the meat on the barbecue (maybe it would be better if you follow his "tried and tested method").
Every man has his own World XV picked and has a list of the worst referees in the world and why they are so particularly handicapped in the art of officiating this great game.
Lastly, every man has a deep respect for the All Blacks. Do not get me wrong, stauncher supporters of their country you will be hard pressed to find, but as any boy growing up in South Africa during isolation will agree, we were inundated with stories of the mighty All Blacks - the true nemesis of the Springboks.
I'm bombarded with questions, ranging from the feeling of being in New Zealand during the world cup to the reaction after the Springbok exit at the hands of those who shall not be named.
Listening to the various voices, my thoughts drift to the wonderful predicament I find myself in - that of being both a South African and a New Zealand resident (an Afraori, if you like).
During the World Cup, I had the privilege of taking a group of South African visitors on a tour through Carisbrook. Their ages ranged from 30 to 70. The expressions on their faces while walking on the hallowed turf of the House of Pain and having a look through the dressing rooms and hospitality suites was a personal highlight for me.
They recounted some memories of the Ricky Januarie try in the corner that won the test for the 'Boks a few years ago, and they walked to the spot where Os du Randt apparently cried after losing to the All Blacks a few years before.
The loss to David Latta's Otago by the touring Springboks led by Tiaan Strauss was a big talking point, and many photos were taken with the Springbok head in the trophy cabinet.
After the trip down memory lane, I took them to Forsyth Barr Stadium. "World class", "wow" and "amazing" were heard more than once. They mentioned afterwards that the visit to Dunedin was the highlight of their trip.
The hospitality and friendliness of New Zealanders shone through and made a lasting impression on all of them, and I was told in no uncertain terms that they would be supporting the All Blacks in the semifinal and final.
Cries of "Boet, you are burning our meat!" finally pulled me out of my daydream.
- Eben Joubert is the Otago rugby captain. He is heading to England (after a holiday in his home country South Africa) for a period of working study, and will be filing a regular column.
