Read more about dancing with the locals in my June 2015 New York Times Travel story, here.

Travel often requires getting out of one’s comfort zone but frankly that’s the destination I am hoping to find. My desire to be ensconced at a strange hostel or desert tent has resulted in some sleepless nights, sure, but its also exposed me to life-altering experiences. I’d have to call the Maori dance competition I attended here,  one of those not-to-be-forgotten events. From the moment I arrived in New Zealand and turned on the news channel run by the nation’s indigenous people and heard the news anchor talking in a language consisting of short bursts of vowel-laden-consonants, I’ve been fascinated by the language, appearance and culture of the Maoris.

This being Matariki, the monthly celebration of the Maori New Year, my daughter, Marian who lives in Auckland took me to town to see the Kapa Haka, a day-long music and dance extravaganza that is fifty percent performance and fifty percent audience participation. That in itself was a blast, as locals and out-of-towners got up to entertain each other during the breaks between the competitive dance teams. (Marian, who has a beautiful voice, did not distinguish herself as an American by forgetting the words to the national anthem. This was not as foolish of a selection as it seems.  She has the range to sing it well. I’ve heard her do it.)

Maori music is an altogether different animal. Its rhythmic and harmonic like western music, but its entirely interwoven with the movement and expression of the dancers. And the emotional journey is rapid fire. One moment the singer/dancers are threatening, with fierce, exaggeratedly wide eyes and mask-like grimaces on tattooed faces. Tongues dart in and out reptilian-like, the viewer’s heart is racing.

Then abruptly the music sweetens, smiles break out across their faces, fears subside. Its exhilarating and sometimes comic. I know there’s a story being told but I don’t even need to know the details, its compelling without interpretation.

Look, there are exotic people around the world. What makes my experience today so remarkable is the way two entirely different cultures are able to live together in what appears to be a mutual appreciation of their differences. While my daughter was struggling to recall the rocket’s red glare, an older lily-white gent was performing a popular song entirely in Maori to a mixed crowd going wild in appreciation. Kim Gonzales, an Mexican-American college student from Boston University, who is completing a year of foreign study here, did an equally dazzling job.

The all-out appreciation for folks who lived here long before the colonists arrived is heart-warming because if ever there were two cultures that could justifiably mis-understand each other, its the European one and the Pacific-Island-originating one I watched performing in terror and fascination today. Yet they seem to have made it work. That’s what getting out of one’s comfort zone can do.

Christine Negroni

Author of The New York Times bestseller, The Crash Detectives, I am also a journalist, public speaker and broadcaster specializing in aviation and travel.