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As a visitor to our lovely land, you might be well-versed in the use of escalators. Don’t fool yourself in thinking you know how to use these in SA. There are people who will tell you that by riding an escalator, you’re accepting some unstated rules of etiquette. These people are usually foreigners. They have escalators that run the length of a soccer pitch. And the foot traffic – let’s not even go there.

When it comes to escalators, South Africans don’t have any standard etiquette. It’s true. For us laid-back and nice locals, escalators are ways to get somewhere with the least effort possible. We like that – no effort with all the rewards. They are places to have a quick catch-up as you move past a friend going the opposite ways. Or to zone out. Or to make out on. It’s just how we roll.

So here are a few things about  local escalator usage to bear in mind.

Locals tend not to hold the hand-rails: who knows what’s been there before us. Ick.  If  these sharp-edged moving steel staircases suddenly stop working, all hell will break loose. It’s known to happen. There was a famous Joburg airport incident. Google it.

Another difficult thing about being behind a local on the escalator, is that we tend to stop unexpectedly. (Perhaps we’re chatting on our phones and need to find a pen to write down that pastry chef’s phone-number for the dinner party we’re having three months from now.) Don’t try to predict when this might happen or hope for the best. We’ll outfox every time. But whatever the reason, be prepared.

Some South Africans will vacillate at the entrance or exit of an escalator. You might be tempted to approach them and try to squeeze past. Don’t.  Still others will take the path of least resistance and cross the opposite lane of traffic to exit or enter the escalator. Again take it in your stride. Being calm is the key to using escalators here.

This, however, is the most important thing to know: do not mess with a South African already riding the escalator. As a rule, we don’t stand to one side and let people pass by. Not because we’re difficult; we just don’t have escalators that demand that kind of commitment. And it is a commitment. If you come from a city with a subway, get over it. Welcome to SA; don’t anger the locals.

If you’re in a hurry, what do you do? Stand and wait or push past?  Sigh loudly or clear your throat? There is a way out.

Luckily for all visitors, this is where the nice comes in.  In the spirit of Ubuntu, if you ask nicely (we’re very fond of nice) we’ll happy let you pass on by. No bloodshed. No problem.

Just remember to choose wisely. If the big guy in front of you is snogging his girlfriend – don’t tap him politely on the shoulder. Saving those few seconds is not worth it.

If you hang with middle-class natives for any significant amount of time you will, inevitably, be invited to a braai. At that point you want to be very, very careful. One misstep, one unfortunate remark, and you will be branded as a filthy, ignorant foreigner and driven out of polite society forever.

On the surface a braai may seem like a casual outdoor gathering of friends and family that just happens to be centered on the preparation of food. In reality it is one of the most sacred rituals of South African life, one that comes with its own language and attitudes and requirements. You will be expected to be familiar with all of these, because every South African is born with an instinctive understanding of what is required and cannot conceive of anybody who isn’t similarly equipped. In other words, your inadvertent mistake will be read as a deliberate insult.

To start with, you’d better have a very good excuse indeed if you wish to decline an invitation to a braai. You must also express extreme gratitude at being asked, and complain bitterly about how this job interview/quest to save the world/birth of your first child will perforce keep you away.

Do not, at any point, refer to the event as a “barbecue”, “picnic” or “lunch”. It is none of those things, and equating a braai with any of them is disparaging.

Do not arrive at the braai with your own utensils or meat unless specifically asked to do so – preferably in writing. A bottle of wine, your own beer or any traditional dinner-party type of gift is fine, but the implication that your host isn’t fully prepared or has inferior hardware will cause deep hurt.

In a similar vein, make no attempt to help with the lighting of the fire, the cleaning of the grill or the actual handling of the meat unless explicitly invited. If you are so invited, follow all commands and suggestions to the letter without question or variation. Unless your host is a pre-teen he has his own unique method of doing these things, which in his eyes is superior to any conceivable alternative. You are welcome to visit the kitchen and pitch in with the washing of lettuce (or whatever it is that happens in there), but when it comes to anything on or around the fire, defer absolutely to the designated alpha male.

Have an answer ready in case you are asked how you prefer your red meat. It need not be restricted to rare, medium or well done; the more detailed your requirements, the better. “Well done on the outside with just a hint of pink in the middle,” for example, will mark you out as refined. Saying you have no preference or leaving it up to the braaier will show you up as an imbecile and raise suspicions that you may be a crypto-vegetarian.

You must – and this is an absolute – effusively praise your host and/or the primary braaier on the end product and the unrivaled skill that produced it. Regardless of whether you had to gag it down with a glass of water per swallow. A willingness to learn, such as by asking questions about the process (either during or after) will earn you extra credit. Just be careful to frame those questions so that they can not be inferred as doubt or judgment. Self-deprecation is also a good idea, and pointing out that your home country has no similarly advanced method of meat preparation is perfect.

Other than that you’ll be fine. There is no dress code for a braai (you can wear a tie or a little black number if you like, but everybody else will laugh at you) and there is nothing resembling table manners (failing to eat with your hands will mark you out as fastidious, but even that is allowed). Enjoy.