Anytime there are two countries in such close proximity as Canada and the United States, there are bound to be similarities between their citizens. The great number of political, mercantile, and social partnerships combine with the facts of a generally common racial and religious heritage to further increase the likeness.
Although I have always been aware of a small number of differences, these lie within the normal range that can be observed both within any country and between any two, so they did not really strike me as significant. Accents, for example, vary markedly from Newton, Alabama to Seattle, Washington, and there is no Canadian who would ever mistake the speech sounds of an Albertan for those of a New Brunswicker.
Another obvious difference is the imperial vs. metric systems of measurement. While an American needs no help in understanding that a sunny August afternoon of 35 degrees C here in Korea is very hot, that same person may be led to wonder just how chilly the night will be when the forecast predicts a low of 13 degrees C. Canadians, however, are right at home with the metric system, having been "metricized" for more than twenty years.
It is only since my arrival in Korea, however, that other differences have begun to reveal themselves to me, primarily as a result of having Canadians and Americans living together in our apartment.
One of the most noticeable is vocabulary. When a guest arrives at our apartment, the American is likely to invite the guest to have a seat on the sofa or the couch (which by the way, would have a vowel sound similar to that of "now"). The Canadian among us, however, while extending the same invitation to sit on the couch (which is a homonym of "coach" in Canada), is equally likely to ask the guest to have a seat on the chesterfield. This presents no problem if the guest is from Flin Flon, Manitoba, but to anyone who hails from the Deep South of the United States -- where Chesterfield is a brand of cigarettes -- there is likely to be a little bewilderment. The guest from Royal Oak, Michigan, won't be looking for the tobacco target and will simply not understand the reference at all.
Another lexical chasm opened when the Canadian remarked that it would be nice if there were a veranda where we live so we could enjoy the fall evenings in Korea; the American thought a deck would also be a great addition. It was then that the Canadian got a little smug and pointed out that a deck and a veranda are one and the same. Not long thereafter, however, the Americans scored one when the Canuck thought that the Yank's fondness for grinders meant that he had a fetish for power tools, and not a hankering for subs.
Other differences, not as salient and a little less readily identifiable, are nonetheless present. One such difference can be illustrated by comparing two parties that we (the Yank and the Canuck), attended. The first was hosted by Newfies, as folks from Newfoundland are endearingly known to Atlantic Canadians. This was a great party! Don't let anyone ever tell you that Maritimers cannot throw a happening party. The atmosphere was markedly different, though, at the second party, where the Canadian half of our duo was the only person present whose North American home was north of the 43rd parallel.
The "Canadian" party was a rowdy event, and the abundance of liquor had anything but a dampening effect on the high spirits and warm hospitality. In fact, good fellowship and camaraderie were in such great abundance that it seemed that everyone had known everyone else for quite some time. At the "American" party, however, things were much different. While we were initially welcomed hospitably, we were pretty much left on our own to mingle with the other guests after the proper polite pleasantries from the host. On the whole, the atmosphere had a reserved air not present in the first soiree. Where the Yanks can throw a successful parlor party, the Newfies cannot be touched on their down-home kitchen party.
I realize that I am making a generalized rule from only two pieces of data (my professor from Psych 301, Clinical Research, would have had my head for such license), but I feel the point has merit nonetheless. I think an explanation for the differences in the feel of the two parties lies somewhere in the different demographics. Rural areas are much more prevalent in Canada, whose population is a mere tenth of that of the US. Population density has a direct effect on social behavior; hence the warm, cozy familial feeling of the party thrown by the Newfound landers. Another example of our differences is seen in our expression of patriotism for our respective countries. In North America, Canadians tend to be very nonchalant about their national pride. Americans" display of devotion to their homeland, however, borders upon fanaticism. One American here in Korea labels this concept "amerocentricity," the belief that the world revolves around the United States of America.
A strange reversal occurs, however, outside the North American continent. In fact, a shift of nearly 180 degrees is seen here in Korea: Americans seem rather subdued about their nationality. This could be due to the fact that many Koreans seem to have a marked, albeit unfounded, distaste for Americans. More likely, however, it is due in no small part to the fact that in the presence of a Canadian, an American is overshadowed by the Canuck's boastful airs of nationality and the sight of the Maple Leaf plastered everywhere, from the badge sewn on the backpack to the lapel pin on the collar. (I think it must be the kimchi that awakens a Canadian's latent patriotism.)
A literary difference occurs in a Canadian's preference to use as many letters as possible when spelling a word. Someone from the Cat skills is content to use a simple five letters to write the word C-O-L-O-R. Now, if you grew up in Peterborough, you'd say that's crazy. More flavoUr can be given to one's writing with the addition of an extra (U). Just ask your neighboUr.
Surprising as it is, many differences exist in the "pop" culture -- surprising because, as close as we are, an arbitrary border seems to prevent a free intermingling. To exemplify this, the dubious compliment (or insult, depending on one's perspective) that one can imbibe as masterfully as Ted Kennedy does not mean a whole lot to a Nova Scotia "Haligonian" (from Halifax). Conversely, smart cracks with respect to Rita MacNeil's girth will be understood by most Canucks, while leaving the poor Philadelphian in the dark.
Now, I've saved the most astounding difference for last. Unbeknownst to most North Americans Canada and the US do not share the same alphabet! Well, OK, the written alphabet is identical, but a dispute arises in the spoken names of the letters. Both countries' citizens' recitations are pretty much hand in hand up to "Y". Here, though, our pathways split. To someone from Sioux City, the final letter of the alphabet, "Z" rhymes with "B", "C", and "D". To someone from Vancouver, "Z" is spoken to rhyme with the word "bed." The American of our duo says it must be "zee" because it's only logical after "bee", "cee", and "dee". The Canadian is equally adamant, saying he has the backing of all other English-speaking nations--and, for that matter, most languages which use the Roman alphabet -- in calling it "zed". His theory is that the American "zee" resulted as a need of Sesame Street to have a letter that euphonized with T, U, V, X, Y, ??, for the alphabet song. I guess Bert and Ernie would have never gained such immense popularity singing "X, Y, Zed".
At any rate, despite our differences -- or perhaps because of them -- Canadians and Americans make formidable neighbors (or is that neighboUrs?). And I, personally, cannot think of any nation with whom I would rather share my country's border.