Day -1 and Day 0 and Day 1

Day -1: Monday, July 25 Provo. Our Last full day in Provo was spent in the company of family (Mom Franklin, and the Fitzgeralds) running last minute errands, cleaning, packing, and taking care of last minute business items like changing out locks and cleaning carpets. At 11pm we had everything out of the house and all 370+ pounds of check luggage in the garage. Mom Franklin dropped Melissa and I off at the Fitzgeralds where Callan had gone with Mom Fitzgerald earlier to go to bed. Mom Franklin then drove back to the house and loaded all the luggage into the car and drove home to Jason`s house to sleep for A few hours before getting up to take Jason to work in Salt Lake and meet us at the airport at 7am.

Meanwhile, at the Fitzgeralds, we all got to bed about 1:30 AM before waking up at 5:45 to get ready. Mike and Joey loaded the car, Melissa got Callan ready, and Cristi made breakfast (a really yummy multi grain oatmeal type hot cereal with raisins and other good stuff in it which we all ate in the car on the way to the airport.)

Day 0: Tuesday, July 27th.

We said good bye at the security gate and made it to the gate just as passengers were boarding and everything went smoothly until we taxied out onto the tarmac. After sitting there for fifteen minutes the pilot announced a minor technical problem and explained that we would have to wait until it got fixed before we could take off. TWO HOURS LATER, we finally took off from Salt Lake City.

Thanks to the minor technical problem in SLC our two hour lay over in San Francisco turned into a twenty minute dash from the arrival gate to the international terminal where we arrived at our gate just as they were calling our names over the loud speakers. It wouldn`t`t have been so bad if we didnt`t have three carry on bags, two backpacks, one computer bag, one stroller, one baby backpack, and one 30 pound two year old to carry with us down the stairs, onto the crowded shuttle bus, down the hall , across the moving walkway, down another flight of stairs, through the terminal and down the narrow plane isle (I distinctly remember overhearing someone passing us on the stair case saying `why didnt`t they check some of that luggage). We were the last people on the plane, did not get to eat lunch, go to the bathroom, or stretch our legs, and we were not able to let Callan run around a bit.


Day 1: July 27th, 2005.

Day 1 of our year in Japan officially started about 5pm Utah time somewhere over the pacific ocean as we crossed the international dateline and went from Tuesday evening to Wednesday Afternoon in Japan. All of Japan is in the same time zone and is about 16 hours ahead of Utah give or take an hour or so.

As we sped along at 530 mph. In our Boeing 777, complete with first class, business class, economy plus, and regular coach seats, all of which included their own television screen, Melissa and I noted the things we had learned about international travel with a two year old. First we came to the unanimous conclusion that we brought too many bags, or to few arms, or both. Second we learned that benadryll probably works more quickly and more effectively than a quarter piece of Dramamine, and trying to rock the poor child to sleep at the bulkhead and then place him in his car seat doesnt`t work. Third, no toy can hold a candle to the buttons above our seats , especially the large orange button that calls the flight attendant. And fourth, bring your own snacks (even fresh fruit, because if this flight is any indication,)no one asks you about it.

We watched three movies, I read 100 pages out of the most recent of J.K. Rowling`s Wizarding bricks, ate two airline meals, and only went to the bathroom once. We arrived five minutes early to Kansai International airport, and thanks to the immensity pile of carry on luggage, we were the last off the plane.

Once you get past customs, Kansai International airport is a colorful, well air conditioned, inviting architectural testimony to the Japanese tendency toward serene airiness and technological ingenuity. However, from the gate to immigration and customs the ambiance is more a cross between alcatraz and Ellis Island. The ceilings are as impossibly tall as the immigration lines into which we cued up are long, and the air is stagnant, the only breeze coming from the rustling passports and other travel documents being handed over tall counters to short, tired looking Japanese officials. The atmosphere was dull if not unfriendly, and we would have been there a long time had it not been for a kind gentleman who escorted us ahead of the line because we were a family (and probably because he noticed the ridiculous load of carry on luggage we were dragging behind us.)

Customs went smoothly except that one of our bags of luggage decided to give out on us and the entire zipper split. Thankfully when we packed it Mike and I secured the bag with luggage straps that held it all together except for a Japanese hymn book that slipped out at baggage claim.

leaving the immigration/customs area and entering the real airport was something akin to walking from the drab concrete and steel gates of Willy Wonka`s chocolate factory into the exciting oompa loompafied ambiance of the factory itself. We were instantly barraged with colorful Japanese art and advertising, music that sounded like it came from a video game, and a din of people making phone calls, exchanging money, and scratching their chins at maps and information boards. Enveloping all this was a great vaulted hall that extended probably 100 feet in the air and was painted in a pink that was somewhere between pepto-bismol and Good and Plenty Candy. It was fantastic.

Waiting for us amidst the hullabaloo was Nozomi Caruthers-the wife of an old mission buddy and current resident of Osaka. She helped us send our 360 pounds of checked baggage to our new home in Marugame and drove us to her parents house in Osaka where we were given an air conditioned room, two wonderful meals, and the relief of seeing familiar faces in what was for my wife a very unfamiliar place.