Nickie Muir: Hello to by-the-rules kissing

Kissing and telling is a big cultural no no. But I'll do it anyway. What I think has been missing on kissing is an old school Miss Manners guide.

Let me be clear; I'm not talking passion here - that is all down to individual taste and is worth a whole other column - which won't be mine. What I'm trying to get to grips with is navigating the cultural diversity that is the new New Zealand when it comes to meeting and greeting. The average Kiwi Pakeha has an inbuilt body radar that gets set off should anyone breach the usual 200 mile fishing limit of personal space. The Anglos among us, of which I am one, get nervy on trains in Asia and uncomfortable with too much hugging or over eager back rubbing. The thought of having to live in a commune where everyone is always touching you on the arm as they greet is enough to start an asthma attack.

The Argentines however, are serial kissers. But there are still rules. I had to be taken aside after a discussion in a Buenos Aires staff room because of my complete disregard for kissing etiquette. I had failed to kiss everyone on the cheek on entering the staffroom. I had further offended everyone by failing to kiss everyone on leaving for the lunch break and on re-entering after every absence. A rare insight into why perhaps the national productivity was so atomically low.

Once I'd got into the swing of kissing everyone five times a day another korero was necessary to discuss exemptions. These included; the cleaner, the butcher, the cute pizza delivery boy and the homeless - in other words there was a kissing class structure. Despite this, delivery and execution of an Argy greeting is fairly straightforward; one cheek touch, kiss air, in-out - no drama.

And then I got invited to a powhiri. Man. I haven't been in many marae situations and I always feel slightly embarrassed in not feeling culturally competent in my own country. As we lined up to hongi nerves derailed my brain and I went into autopilot Argy greeting. The result was a kind of battleship galactica with noses and cheeks.

Apart from feeling like an egg I felt bad because I'd completely freaked out my hosts who were far too polite and seemed to be pretending not to have noticed. At least I wasn't completely facially feral. There are the odd red card kissers who will sneak in some lip action and unless you're two Russian old blokes this is fundamentally uncalled for regardless of cultural heritage.

Greeting in a multi-cultural society is a minefield of possibilities. All it takes is a "three kiss" Swiss or Basque country Spaniard to screw everything up and we're back to greetings 101.

Which is partly why I admire teenage boys and their elaborate greeting forms. Grab the opposite arm; lock. Bring bodies close with hips to the side but not close enough to risk anyone calling you gay. Lunge at each other to indicate staunch affection; raise eyebrows to circumnavigate vocabulary. Under no circumstances maintain any eye contact apart from a quick flicker to make sure it actually is someone you know. If I could only work out the complicated hand manoeuvres I'd take it up.