Remember me as a time of day

Of all the places I'm going, the ones I think about most are Kyiv and Canberra. The second because it's the place where I'm spending the most time and the first because it's the place I'm most worried about.
I'm building up a pretty exemplary vocabulary of Ukrainian words, which I can say and while pointing at things to make myself understood: "Beer please! Thankyou!"
But soon, I'm going to buy a Ukrainian-English dictionary, because my text, and my cd-rom just aren't going to satisfy the expression that I'm most eager to understand, which is:
"Stupid Americans."
Why you ask? Because, in all our fumblings and inanities of foreign behaviour, I want to make sure I know when people are calling me that, so that I can correct them, and say the second thing I'm most eager to be able to communicate:
"No, no. Stupid Canadian."

Call me stupid, sure, I'm okay with that. But never, ever, ever call me American, because as a Canadian that is the penultimate negative to my identity. What makes me Canadian more than any other cliched symbol? The fact that I'm NOT AMERICAN.

It interests me that the Canadian identity, unlike any other country in the world, is less defined by what we are (unless you buy into beer commercials, *yawn*), and more by what we are not, or more specifically, in how we differ from Americans. We have a bit of an identity crisis if you ask me. And if anyone feels like funding it, I'm really eager to make an international documentary on the subject... but I uh, need a camera first.