“It was like I was constantly pregnant with my picking basket, giving birth to kiwifruit and yet more kiwifruit into the bin”, says Franco, wincing as he reminisces about his time working in a Bay of Plenty orchard. “But as a film student from Santiago, I suppose it's not an experience I would have had if I hadn't come here”.

Franco and his girlfriend Daniela, also a film school graduate, are two of the more than 500 Chileans between the ages of 18 and 30 who come to New Zealand each year under the Working Holiday Visa scheme established in 2001.

The last few years have seen New Zealand's reciprocal working holiday agreement with the United Kingdom extended ever wider, including to Canada, the USA, Japan, and a range of European countries. Chile (joined in 2004 by Argentina) is the first Latin American country whose young people have access to such a visa. It allows them one year in which they can seek casual work while backpacking, opening up an independent, freewheeling way of life that contrasts with the more hierarchical social structures of their home country.

For New Zealanders, the so-called “big OE” is these days as likely to involve suited jobs in the City of London and Ryanair weekends to Dublin or Barcelona as the traditional bar work and slow crawl across the continent in a kombi. But for the mostly middle-class Chileans now coming here, New Zealand offers an experience similar to what Europe did for Kiwis twenty or thirty years ago: living hand to mouth, finding and forming networks of other expats, buying a cheap vehicle, and scraping together savings to travel further afield.

Like most, Daniel and Franco had heard about the Working Holiday scheme through word of mouth from friends who had been to New Zealand or were still here. They were attracted by the idea of being able to work in different places, save money, and move on. They also hoped they could pick up some experience in what they'd heard was New Zealand's thriving film industry. There were hassles in arranging the visa, thanks to an “unhelpful” New Zealand embassy in Santiago, and a requirement to obtain a tuberculosis-free certificate from a specific doctor.

But once in Auckland, they were impressed with how easy it was to organise work. They wound up in Katikati in kiwifruit picking season, sharing a bunkhouse with 18 other workers and toiling amidst the brown, hairy fruit that Franco still seems to have Salvador Dali-style nightmares about.

Later they headed down to Napier, where Daniela found a job in a bar called Milonga Tango, run by “a Maori guy who didn't speak a word of Spanish but was obsessed with the tango”. They were also able to use some of their film-making skills, helping a young artist prepare a video installation for his exhibition.

Then it was on to Wellington, where they handed out their CVs to all the local film producers.For now they're are renting a cramped inner-city flat, getting by with part-time restaurant work, and waiting for calls.

If, after four and a half months, Franco and Daniela are still finding their feet, 30 year-old Lucas is enormously enthusiastic about his eight months here. He can't say enough about his appreciation for New Zealand's meritocratic, egalitarian working culture.

“In Chile when you're applying for jobs, so much importance is given to who you know”, he explains. “But in New Zealand, if you're capable and work hard, there's nothing to stop you doing well”.

Lucas graduated in both art and graphic design in Santiago and was teaching on a contractual basis when he made a snap decision to come to New Zealand, based on conversations with a friend who walked at the Chilean consulate in Auckland.

He arrived with his younger sister, and originally they crashed with a Colombian acquaintance in suburban Auckland while doing cleaning or working in restaurants.

Lucas then took off with an Argentinian acquaintance to pick fruit in Kerikeri. Working outside was a revelation for him. “It was like paradise”, he laughs. “It was amazing just to depend on my own efforts, and to be able to have time by myself to reflect on life”. While working on a lemon orchard, he was was recruited to pick mandarins by a rival grower, which he explains was a step up in the world. “Lemons are thorny and you need a ladder. Mandarin trees don't have thorns and you can just stand and pick them”. He seems chuffed with the simplicity of the insight: happiness is a human-sized fruit tree.

Here as well, he forced himself to improve his English, after some abortive attempts to study in Auckland. This is one of the many highlights of his time in New Zealand, along with meeting travellers from all over the world, and, most importantly, being completely independent.

Now Lucas is down in Wellington, working long evenings in the popular Mexican restaurant Flying Burritos Brothers, and saving to buy camera equipment and travel further.

Thanks to their growing numbers and modern communications technology, Latin American travellers now have contacts and networks throughout the country. For example, Lucas had arranged his job though another Chilean, by text message, before even arriving in Wellington.

It's already changed a lot from when Paola came here five years ago. She ended up marrying a man she met (where else?) in the apple fields of Hastings. It was a tough, lonely struggle getting established and fitting in, she says, but now she's happy with her life and the chance to pursue work and study options she never would have had back home.

While there's a near-universal appreciation of the working opportunities in New Zealand, experiences of the culture are mixed. One downside is that there's not as much interaction with locals as might be expected. Even Lucas, who describes New Zealand as “friendly and open”, admits that he hasn't actually got to know that many New Zealanders. While he and other Chileans have plenty of tales of friendship and romance, these are largely with other backpackers. “It's mostly Germans, really”, says one.Many struggle with the language barrier, though also say that speaking Spanish can attract interested attention from locals.

Several comment on what they see as negative attitudes of some New Zealanders and their failure to appreciate the opportunities they have. Lucas says he can't believe how many people don't seem to finish school; as a former teacher, he's keeping a wistful eye on the passionate protests back home, led by school-age students, to demand more equitable access to education.

New Zealand manners also seem very reserved, even for Chileans, who have among the more sober of the Latin American cultures. Daniela laughs as she describes the expressions of fright from locals whom she's instinctively gone to kiss on the cheek as a greeting. Paola says she had to give up that practice a long time ago.

No one is very impressed with the night life, and mention of Courtenay Place tends to elicit shudders. “Every time we've been out somewhere it's been fomi (lame)”, says one traveller.

On the positive side, Franco and Daniela are very impressed by the vibrancy and visibility of Maori culture. “In Chile the [indigenous] Mapuche people are hidden away”, says Daniela. And there's a realisation that the egalitarian work culture has other implications. “Here, you definitely can't judge someone by the way they dress”, says Paola.

If there's one thing every single Chilean spoken to agrees on about New Zealand, it's this: bars don't put enough alcohol in spirits-based drinks. Latin Americans like to linger with a strong “trago”, savouring the taste of the spirit while engaging in conversation and banter with friends. They find it hard to fathom the requirement to serve in single measures.

When this is repeated to a group of three Chileans, a Uruguayan and an Argentinian, they all start talking at once, nodding their heads and forming mock thimbles with their thumbs and forefingers.

But if this is the height of culture shock, things aren't too bad. Several travellers spoken to have encouraged friends to come too, and some even say they intend to apply to extend their time here.

Meanwhile the popularity of the Working Holiday scheme continues to increase. The original quota for Chile was 200 per annum, but this was increased to 500 in 2003 after applications consistently exceeded available visas. Now, recently appointed Chilean ambassador Luis Lillo is hoping the number can be even extended to 800 or even 1,000. He would also like to introduce a system of internships, where New Zealand employers agree to take on a young Chilean to gain experience in their profession.

This would enable more people with technical and professional training to come. In his first serious job as a civil engineer in Santiago, twenty-five year old Carlos says that he would love to spend time in New Zealand, but that it would have to involve an opportunity to get more engineering experience; he can't risk interrupting his career at the moment.

Such a scheme could also give people from a wider range of socioeconomic backgrounds the chance to experience New Zealand. Most current working holidaymakers rely on their parents' support to provide the evidence of independent funds required to get the visa. For those whose parents can't or won't help – in a country which still has one of the world's highest indexes of inequality – there's little chance of accumulating the required funds themselves.

If the ambasassador's wishes are granted, the flow of young people from Chile will continue to increase. Similar numbers would also likely be allocated to Argentina, and there is the prospect of the Working Holiday scheme also being extended to Brazil and Peru in the forseeable future. This would see New Zealand gain ever more popularity as a destination for travellers from Latin America, keen to discover that, as Lucas says: “if you decide to do something here, and you do it well, it'll work out for you”.

Just as long as they don't expect to find a stiff drink.