Hawaii

365 days has come to an end. We are in Hawaii, and nothing but our memory, our old clothes, and a few unpaid bills remain behind in Japan. Health insurance bills and an internet bill actually, and I am in the process of figuring out how to pay them since I didn't have time to get all that taken care of before we left. But other than a few items of business, our year in Japan is history, and life as a full time American citizen has resumed.

Being in Hawaii has made the transition westward fairly easy. Here we get a nice mix of eastern and western culture, complete with a spattering of Japanese people to talk to. First of all though, Americans are huge! Not just fat, but tall, wide, thick. Even skinny Americans seem to take up twice as much space as Japanese people. I expected to see large pacific Islanders here, but all the Americans we have seen are huge. Why? Why is everyone so big?

On Thursday we arrived at 7:00 am, and by the time we got through customs, rounded up our rental car, loaded all 11 bags into the trunk, back seat, and foot wells, and drove to the North Shore, it was eleven AM. I took an hour long nap and then hopped back into the car with Callan to go pick up Grandma and Grandpa Franklin who were scheduled to arrive at the airport at 1:15 pm. However when I arrived at the airport the passenger pick up area showed no flights from their airline and the security guard told me there were no flights that afternoon on that airline from Vegas.

Perplexed, I drove around the pick up area looking for Vegas flights but couldn't find any. Callan was asleep so I couldn't get out of the car, and it took 45 minutes and a few more security guards to figure out that the flight was two hours late and that it wouldn't be in until 3:30 pm. With that news I took Callan to the bank, and then we got lunch at subway (amazing that you can just drive in to the parking lot, pick up an sandwich and drive off. I could never have done that in Marugame).

We finally connected with Grandma and Grandpa who brought some extra luggage for us to fit some of our stuff in to get it back to the mainland (international weight limits are 70 pounds per bag and domestic is 50. Since our flight from Honolulu to Utah will be domestic, all our bags that barely made it under the international limit are going to have to shed 10 or 15 pounds). We hurried back to the north shore where Melissa was waiting, thinking we'd probably died, or gotten lost, or something else terrible. We went to L and L Hawaiian barbecue for dinner (lots of food, lots of grease) and then we all crashed pretty early.


We've been to the Bishop museum, had dinner at the Sunset Grill in Honolulu, spent an hour in Waikiki traffic, swam at Waimea Bay, cut our feet on coral, visited the Audubon center, watched the Joseph Smith movie at the Laie Temple visitors center, slept in, stayed up late, eaten too much, and generally enjoyed ourselves. Tomorrow we're going to Hanauma bay, Tuesday we'll visit the Polynesian culture center, and Wednesday we're doing the military stuff (pearl harbor, The Missouri, etc.). And Thursday and 7AM we're on a plain to Utah.

We've had pizza, polish dogs, cold cereal, salad wraps, oreos, mint ice cream, pineapple ice cream, sliced turkey sandwiches, yogurt and granola, grilled and fried mahi mahi, krusteaz pancakes, kettle chips, grapes, cantaloupe, and whole wheat bread.

It is difficult to put words to how it feels to be done with all of this. One minute I am running full steam, teaching classes, training new teachers, taking care of last minute errands, and the next minute I'm stealing a kiss from my wife as we float in the gentle surf of Waimea bay with the sun setting behind great cream puff clouds that stretch out across an endless horizon of iridescence. For one year, exactly one year, Japan, English teaching, students, schedules, and lessons were my life. And now its all done, gone, less than a shadow, more than a memory. But its only over for me. The students will keep coming, the new teachers will keep planning, and scheduling, and teaching. The money will keep flowing, the clock will keep spinning, and the sun will keep setting.

As I jump off this Ferris wheel existence two things are evident. First, It is good to feel like I'm moving forward again, instead of just going round and round past the same scenery. And second, it is sad to realize that the Ferris wheel still spins without me. I was a momentary revolving blip in the linear, progressing lives of hundreds of people in Japan just as much as they were in mine. Our paths crossed momentarily, we hopefully had a positive impact on each others' lives, and now it is over. Neither myself nor my students were really spinning like a Ferris wheel, it only felt like that because of the detachment that results from the inevitable brevity of the interaction. At times the entire experience felt doomed simply because I knew it was temporary. Still, occasionally, when I allowed myself to live in the now, and not focus on the 365 day spinning wheel I was riding, I did feel like I was making a difference. And even now, as I think of the students, the school, and the teachers, still marching on in the same way as they were before I left, I know that despite the brevity, the inevitability of its end, I know that the experience has done much for me. Life is full of these small pockets of experience. They can be lengthy or short, but they all serve the same purpose. For me, they are teaching me to value each interaction, each episode of the larger experience. Whether it's a date, a conversation, a year in Japan, four years in college, 35 years in marriage, they are all cyclical, and they all provide the opportunity to recognize how we are changing, how we are evolving as a person.

My mom asked me if I would, knowing what I know now, still go to Japan for a year. I told her I would still go, but I wouldn't go again. I regret nothing about the year. It was twelve months well spent, and I don't think another 12 months in the same environment could offer me more than the first year did. I have learned how much I value mobility that allows me to visit my family, I have learned what type of work I want to do, I have learned a great deal about how to treat my wife, how to cultivate patience with my son, how to balance my schedule to make time for family, how to spend money, how to save money, how to take care of money without worrying about it. The lessons could mostly be catagorized as introductory courses to a life long study of a great number of subjects that are at the foundation of my existence as a husband and father, as a writer, as a son, and brother, as an american citizen, as a disciple of Jesus, and as a son of God. Far from checking off a list of lessons learned, the experience has produced a miriad questions that are sure to serve as the catalyst for future growth that would not have happened had we stayed in Happy Valley Utah.

And of course, in addition to the high minded, idealistic "things I learned during my year in Japan" speach, I should also comment that we ate some great food, saw some killer scenary, and generally enjoyed a year long extended work holiday. We visited almost every major tourist attraction and cultural sight within four hours of our home, ate in dozens of small shops, visited in peoples homes, had run ins with the law, and picked up some fun souveniers (including our unborn son, who currently ways more than two pounds and is due in less than 90 days), not to mention we took more than a thousand photographs and two gigs of video.

I could write and write and write. But i'ts one thirty am and we're going snorkling tomorrow. So that will have to do.

Day 364: off to Osaka

I just got finished removing all our files from this computer and now I am ready for bed.  It is one am and in eight hours we will be on a bus for Osaka.  Our 365 days is coming to a close and it hasn’t gone out without a hitch.

We’ve been running everywhere trying to get souvenirs purchased, gifts found, money transferred, and tickets purchased, not to mention show the new teachers around and finish out our last few classes.  Tonight, after my last class Melissa and I spent an hour trying to get Callan to fall asleep and then we packed up the last of our suit cases and I drove them down to the school (Tomorrow we have to get all three of us plus the Bunions plus all our stuff to the station and there is no way to do that in our little car so the luggage got an early start).  Unfortunately when I arrived at the school at ten thirty pm, the spare key was not in the secret hiding spot.  That could only mean one thing.  Deron, the other teacher had taken it home.  I went by his apartment but all the lights were off. I knocked several times and even tried to call at him through an open window, but they didn’t hear me so I gave up and drove to a convenience store and called him from a pay phone.  I really didn’t want to wake them up, but I had car full of luggage and no where to put it.  I finally got the key from a very tired looking Deron and unloaded all the luggage and got back to our place by 11:45 pm.  

On Sunday night Fumiyo held a farewell Franklins/Welcome Bennions party at her house. She invited several people and fed us all Yakiniku, or Japanese barbaque. After dinner we had a testimony meeting and then Kenji played the Piano and Robert played his flute. It was a nice way to say goodbye. From left to right Brother and Sister Morimura, Kenji with Callan, Elder Itakura, Deron Watanabe, Robert, Nicolle, and Collette Bennion, and in the Front Elder Chirstianson. I don't remember the name of the man on the far left.

As usual Callan didn't eat much because he was too distracted by the crowd. Elder Christianson was a good sport and played with him for quite a while.

Brother Morimura loves to have people to his house and is a gracious host. The missionaries in the background are Elder Christianson and Elder Itakura. They were their with a friend who was studying with them. The bennions also came, and with the Morimura's, and us it made thirteen people.

Deron's wife Lori was in America so he came alone to the party. I caught him looking lonely (or maybe just hungry.)

Yakiniku is Japanese barbaque and we cooked it in the living room on a camping type grill set on wooden blocks above a butane stove. There were piles of meat and vegetables and everyone just put what they want on the grill and it all cooked together.

Callan and Collette had fun making pretend phone calls on Fumiyo's fax machine.

This is the kitchen at Yamashita Udon. You can walk in, get a hot bowl of udon soup, and be out in five minutes for less than three hundred yen. They make all their noodles in house, and are Always busy.

On saturday we took one last trip to Yamashita Udon to get some good japanese food. We're going to miss all of this. I'm going to have to see if I can make the noodles my self at home.

This is the Udon master at Yamashita Udon near our home. Every day they make Udon from scratch and then cut it with this special racheting cutter that cuts the udon evenly. We've been to this restaurant so many times that they know who we are, and were sad to hear we would be leaving.

Yamashita Udon in Zentsuji is the best place to take new people to check out what all the fuss is about Sanuki Udon. It is the real deal japanese restaurant that american Japanese restaurants only wish they could be.

Last wednesday we decided to get some major packing done before the Bennions arrived. Our living room was a disaster and Joey had the worst case of dust allergies he has ever had. He had to take a break and get out of the room.

Pythagorean Switches on TV everyday

Mom and Callan next to the Canal in Kurashiki. It rained like crazy most of the day.

Here are a few flower pictures from a walk last Sunday. This one has been played with a little, but the other two I believe are as is.

This was the last hydrangea cluster alive on this bush.

more of these huge lillies.

For our afterschool program on Friday Melissa decided to teach the kids how to make ice cream in a bag. Before we had all the kids try it, we tested the process at home. Callan, Dad, and Mom passed around this batch of strawberry milk turned Ice cream for about ten minutes. What did we learn. First of all, the bags will definitely spring a leak if you throw them too hard. And second, if you don't rinse off the inner bag before you serve the ice cream, you end up with salty ice cream.

Oto, our Boss' grandson, getting ready to shake.

Once the small bags were loaded with the sugar, milk, and vanilla, we placed them in large bags full of ice and spent ten minutes tossing them around outside.

The ice cream was a success, even if it was a little runny.

On Sunday we went to Chugh's house for dinner. He made us Indian Curry and we made him snickerdoodles. He has been like a Grandpa to Callan while we've lived here, and we are going to miss him. He is an inspector at Imabari ship building and spends all day in, on, or around massive 30, 50, 70 ton tankers and carriers. He is quitet a cook, and has fed us at least twice.

After dinner Chugh made us some Lasee (sp.) a spicy yogurt drink. Callan drank quite a bit.

Today on our last free monday before we go home, we hopped on an 8:15 AM train from Marugame station and headed across the Seto In-land sea via the 13 kilometer Seto bridge system to a regionally well known city called Kurashiki.

Kurashiki is actually one of the first cities I visited as a missionary back in 2000, and it seemed like it was always raining when I came then for zone conferences. Today it was rainy again, one of the rainist days we've spent in Japan actually, but we welcomed the cool air and decreased humidity that came with the storm. Last week we had several days of 90 degree plus weather coupled with 80 percent humidity, which means that you can't lift a finger without breaking a sweat. Being soaked from rain is much more pleasant than being drenched with sweat.

I had one of those "muffled background noise, blurry edged frame, slow motion, cheesy music" moments today. We were in a department store in Okayama after spending the day in Kurashiki and I was walking through isles lined with tatami floor mats, dried flower arrangements, low tables, heavily draping kimono fabric, and a hundred kinds of pottery, and it occured to me that we will be leaving all of this in less than two weeks. I am not sad to be going. There isn't an ounce of me that wishes we were staying longer. But at the same time, I am beginning to feel how much I am going to miss the magic that occurs when something so semingly foreign becomes familiar. Walking in that store there was not a single hing I wanted to buy, but at the same time I wanted to take the whole store with me. Part of me inside somewhere is constantly amazed at the fact that my wife and my son and I are living in Japan. Its the part of me that says, "this is a foreign country! We are FOREIGNERS! We're on the other side of the world! This is crazy!" It's the part of me that can't believe how different the food is , how green the wilderness is, how homogeneous the people are, how not american this whole experience is.

Once again, this may sound like it is stating the obvious, but I am convinced there are lessons to be learned about things like diversity and patriotism that cannot be learned without living in another country. I used to wonder why anyone would want to live anywhere else but the United States. But now being here, seeing my own country through the eyes of the world, and feeling for the first time really what it feels like to be in a different social system, and what it feels like to miss the familiar, I realize that my feelings for the United States aren't based on some imagined objective superiority in the world, but rather on it's familiarity. There are people in Canada, in France, in Sout Korea, in every country, city, village in the world who couldn't imagine living anywhere else but home. America is superior for me, and only in as much as it provides me with the familiarity that I have come to expect from the place Icall home. That is all any of us are looking for. Familiarity.

Part of our reason for going to kurashiki was so that Callan could ride the train one more time before we go back to the states. He spent most of his time in the train like this, watching the Japanese world go by, and at one point was so startled by a passing train that he almost fell into my lap.

We ate lunch at a small curry house in the covered shopping arcade a few blocks from the Museum. It was realy small, like less than twenty people could have dined comfortbley. The large wooden door of the shop opened directly into a dining room that was no more than ten feet wide at the entrance and slowly tapered down smaller as you moved deeper into the room, until you reached the small counter/register/food staging area where a small japanese woman in a black apron took our orders, brought our food, and accepted our money. Behind this counter was the kitchen just big enough for two people to work, and the sound of sizzling oil and chopping knives was just audible over the Billy Holiday music playing in the background. Above the counter on the wall was a large air conditioning unit which must usually provide the dual boon of keeping customers cool, and of wafting the pleasant kitchen smells towards ordering customers. However, today, the cook was chopping onions, and instead of a hint of curry on the subtle breeze, there was a pepper spray of onion. A quick look around the restaurant showed most of the customers occaisionally dabbing their eyes with their napkins. Oh well, the curry was good.

This is the baby blue squatter toilet in the small curry house. Every bathroom I used in Kurashiki was like this.

After lunch at Kobeya curry house we had a snack inside a wooden japanese gazebo that was set in small japanases garden next to the Ohara art museum.

These poor fish thought that we had some food, but really all we were doing was washing Callan's foot off because he decided to put his sandalled foot into a muddy puddle.

This is one of the many bridges that cross the Kurashiki Canal. On either side of the Canal are old fashioned streets lined with traditional shops, art museums and restaurants.

Callan has taken to making faces at the camera and it is occaisonally hard to deal with his goofiness. I have often extolled the value of 'choosing your battles' as a parent, but lately with Callan it seems that whether at the dinner table, in the car, at church, in bed, infront of the camera, or just about anywhere else, he has to be a goof. Sometimes it is difficult to remember that he is only two, and that while he is certainly becoming more capable of certain unsavory adult behaviors like sarcasm and manipulation, for the most part he is just a two year old little person learning how to communicate what he wants, how to express what he is feeling, and how to react to unmet expectations. When I can remember that, it is much easier to deal with dinner tossed on the floor, or a tantrum at the grocery store, or an occasional refusal to brush teeth.

Callan did very well on this trip, falling asleep in my arms after lunch. He slept for about 45 minutes while we road the train back to Okayama.








These lilly pads where donated to the Ohara museum by the Monet Garden in France.




Callan had had enough of the rain and wanted me to hold him. He quickly fell asleep. He was a good traveler once again, and even did well despite lots of time in art museums with that bothersom 'do not touch' policy.

Callan and Dad outside Okayama Station. There really is a different feel on Honshu than on Shikoku. Everything feels bigger, more crowded, faster.

Kaiten sushi! This place is known to be the best sushi in town. I was pleased that they at least had a variety of non-raw things for Preggo to try while a drolled as Joey at quite a few plates of salmon! For you sisterly, sushi-loving types we sure wished you could join us!

On Monday after Joey's minor toe surgery we decided we could still spend the day enjoying ourselves and we drove about 1 1/2hrs to Oboke and Koboke Gorge and then on to Iya Valley. We're so glad we went because it was absolutely beautiful. It's considered one of three "Hidden Regions" of Japan. It was once a refuge for Heike warriors in the 12th Century. After seeing it, I think they hada great idea! The steep gorges would have made travel through here treacherous. It's still a far cry from Urban Japan but it seems to get a lot more tourists now. I imangine it's very crowded an busy on weekends in the summer months, but lucky for us it was a Monday afternoon! There are great places to camp and hike around here, I wish we would have had more time to explore. I'm grateful we were able to make there before we go home.

This was the first of many scenic bridges we came across that day

In Koboke Gorge you can pay 1050yen to ride a pleasure boat along the river. Our better judgement helped us decide against it.

Returning boaters

Walking down to get on the boat

This was at Koboke Gorge

Joey and Mr. Cheesy

Outside the stone museum we visited they had a granite Anpanman. For those of you who don't know, this means bean-paste-filled-bread-head-man and he is very very famous in Japan. I've never seen a stone one though!

Grrrrr!

Another stone carving

I don't think I want to drive on this road or live in this house! They must be brave.

We paid to cross the Kazura vine bridge. It doesn't look that scary (it was safe enough though, for you motherly types it's reinforced with steel cables, though they're well hidden) but it was! the spaces were just large enough and just wide enough to make the rushing water below look a little too close! This area, Iya Valley was a great place to hide and run from enemies in Old Japan. The vine bridges (there are several others) were used because they could easily be cut if you were being pursued!

Yes, it's a little scary to look down between the ties!

Ready to cross!

Newly bandaged ingrown toenails and a detail of the vinework

Biwa Waterfall just down the road from the vine bridge