My first introduction to American culture…

didn’t begin with the gleam of golden arches, nor the jovial smile of a Kentuckian Colonel dressed in white. It began at an earlier age – four – with a yellow bird, a crazed cross-eyed monster and a green frog named Kermit; and a friendly song that chased the clouds away. I think you all know what I’m talking about.

Yesterday Sesame Street turned fourty. Who would have thought that a kids programme could do so much besides educating small minds on the basics. It taught me a lot about culture long before I knew what that word meant.

From inside my living room, playing on a fuzzy black and white TV (yep I’m that old),  I learnt that my world was different to others. That milk came in different containers to the glass pint bottles I used and that eggs were packed in cardboard cartons – ours came fresh in paper bags.  Through the sexy voice of the Count, I learnt to mimic accents and familiarise my ear to various falls and rises in pitch. Did he teach me to count? Of course, I love to count.

Most importantly, Sesame Street unconsciously taught me about multiculturalism and tolerance.  It has to be one of the few TV programmes without borders.

Perhaps one of the G8 leaders should bring Sesame Street to the UN next time they meet.

Caffeinated Traveller