Homophones

Homophones are words that are pronounced the same, but have different meanings. According to Wikipedia, the unquestionable source of the world's unbiased and totally accurate information, homophones include heterographs (word that have different spellings, and different meanings, like, to/too/to or by/buy/bye...which turns that N*Sync song into a lesson on linguistics) and homonyms (words that have the same spelling but different meanings, tire [as to grow weary] and tire [as the rubber circle your cars and bikes travel on]). These words have been wreaking havoc on student essays the world over since man put pen to paper.

Generally, though, homophones don't cause too many problems in spoken communication because the words sound the same, and because we generally don't see a word spelled out when someone is speaking, there is no meaning confused between heterographs. The context can carry most meanings nicely. So, when someone says, "I went to buy/by/bye apples," there is no confusion, regardless of which word is used because the meaning is carried by the sound, not the written text.

I get into more arguments over the pronunciations of words (which doesn't have a fun term to associate with it; heteronyms are close, having the same spelling and different pronounciation, but different meanings, according to Wikipedia, are also required, like number [a digit in math] and number [the comparative of numb, to loose feeling]). For example, the British are still miffed about "aluminum", which they pronounce and spell "aluminium". The same is true of "tomato": "tow-MAY-toe" in America, "toh-MAH-toe" in Britain. Recently, I was in a heated debated over the pronunciation of "caramelized". Like most red-blooded, freedom loving Americans, I said "CAR-mahl-ized." My British friends, particularly Lizzie, was ruffled by this, claiming, "care-a-MUH-lized" was the correct way to say that.

In most of these arguments, I take the stance that 300,000,000 people can't be wrong. Granted, this is a slightly flawed argument, in that across America there probably wouldn't be any agreement about how to say any words. Just consider this beautifully detailed map that shows the spread of the populace that refers to generic carbonated beverages as "soda", "pop" or the infinitely wrong "coke". Interestingly, I am a statistical oddity here, as the small majority of Chicagoans use the term "pop" and I tend to use the more elitist and intellectual "soda". Regardless, if we polled America about which pronunciation was right, the British way or any American dialect, I am sure jingoism would get all 300,000,000 Americans to vote against the British - especially the British.

At any rate, my time over here has shown that Americans and the British share words that are homophonous (homophonic is just ripe for confusion). For example, Paul, the male teacher at my swing dance class wears yellow suspenders to hold up his purple pin-stripe pants, which makes him instantly the most stylish in our class, every class. I asked Lizzie, "Where do you think one can get yellow suspenders?" and she was momentarily confused. See: here, suspenders are what Americans call garter belts - the device made to hold up women's stockings. What Americans call suspenders are called "braces" over here. There is equal confusion over "vest". In America, that is part of a suit, or a button up top to cover your shirt. Here, a vest is a sleeveless t-shirt, or what Americans so sensitively call a "wife beater" or "Dego tee".

Generally, in these instances, the context of the statement can bridge the language gap. In the case of Paul's rad suspenders/braces, it was clear what I was talking about since there was only one yellow bit of clothing in the room worth mentioning, and no women's garters were visible.

This was not the case this past Tuesday.

When I come to Wales, I tend to lose weight. This due in equal parts to a lack of a car and a lack of peanut butter M&Ms. Because of this, my jeans, which tend to be a bit saggy, hang off to the point where they get in the way. This leads me to tug at the legs of my jeans so I am not standing on them. I was doing just this when we changed partners. The woman approaching me laughed about it, as it seemed like I was readying myself for some difficult labor (to be fair, the Texas Tommy turn is not the easiest, so the visual metaphor was apt).
Yeah, I know, I said, my pants are too big.

Seemed an innocuous enough statement, but there immediately was something amiss between the two of us.
I'm sorry, she said.

My pants...they're too big, I said. I thought maybe she didn't hear it; it can be loud in the Morlan Center.

Well... she paused, clearly uncomfortable, I guess you could get a belt to hold them up.

Blessedly, we had to change partners before too much longer, and she was on her way. I was left to ponder what made such a commonplace conversation so difficult and uncomfortable. It hit me about three partners later.

Pants = underwear in the UK.

Essentially, I had told a stranger that I was wearing large underwear, underwear that was too large in fact, for me to dance comfortably. Awesome. I had about four more partner switches before she came back, so I grew more an more mortified as the exchanges brought us closer and closer.

As she came back towards me, she said, Everything okay with the pants?

Oh yeah, I said, I lose weight when I am over here so my pants...I mean trousers...don't fit right. I let a beat pass. I guess, you guys call them trousers over here.

She smiled as our miscommunication dawned on her. Yeah. Pants are really more a private matter.