I'm still catching up, but will post tidbits as the mood strikes...

25 Sept. 2003
Today I’ve had a discussion w/ my office mate, Pavlo, who I nicknamed “Pavlito” from the Spanish, and who speaks excellent English. Ever since I called him a “dork” and he looked it up online and got very offended (hey – I didn’t know it meant “dick”), he asks me language questions. Today has been on the subject of political correctness and how to call people with different characteristics. Some excerpts:

Pavlito: “I read that there is special feministic vocabulary to describe men and women, like ‘Vaginal Americans.’”
Me, choking on the tea I just sipped: “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘vaginal Americans?’”
Pavlito: “Yes, and men are called ‘penile Americans.’”
Me, trying to be adult and not snicker b/c he just said “penile:” “Pavlo, that is crazy. A few people may say that, but it definitely isn’t in common usage.”
Pavlito, who never believes me after the dork debacle: “But maybe in your village they don’t say this, maybe they say this in other cities.”
Me, getting indignant because he always believes random internet sources over a REAL, LIVE Vaginal American: “Pavlo, nobody says that. I’ve never heard anyone say that, ever. Really.”

Then we had a discussion about overweight people, who he heard should be called “alternative appearance.” I told him that fat and overweight were ok, w/ the latter being the polite variant.

Then on to developmentally disabled, who we no longer call “retards.” In Russian/Ukrainian, they say, “invalids” for physically disabled people, so many Ukrainians say “invalid” in English.

He also asked me why so many people in America are overweight. I told him that’s an excellent question, but I speculate that processed food, lots of it and little exercise contribute. Ukrainians tend to be quite lean, along the French model, despite some of the diet being rather heavy. Take salo, for example, the straight pork fat that is beloved. Or all the sour cream. Mmmmm, sour cream.

I digress. Language is always very interesting to me, as is Pavlito’s impressions of Americans and what I gather he’s learning from me. I realize that I’ve taught him “shut up” (for when he’s teasing me about being a spy, which grows wearying), but nothing too bad otherwise. It’s sobering to realize that I really am a representative of Americans, and even in Kyiv may be the first American anyone has closely worked with. I try not to take it too seriously, but it is something I try to remember when I’m having a bad day.