3 Weeks, 3 Kids, 3000 Miles in a Minivan

Our epic road trip from Boston to LA to introduce our 3rd culture kids to their homeland

We had three weeks to transition from living on one island nation, the UK to another island nation, Japan. What better way to impress upon our children the sheer vastness of the country of their birth than an epic road trip from one end of the continent to the other?

We had family to visit in Boston, upstate New York, Michigan, Chicago, Yellowstone, and Los Angeles. Add in a brief swing through Canada taking in Niagara Falls and minor detours to Mt. Rushmore, Wall Drug, and the Corn Palace, and the route was well over 3000 miles. Three weeks, minus multiple days hanging out with family. Doable but tight.

We picked up the rental minivan at Boson Logan International Airport, tossed our suitcases in the back, popped the first Pimsleur Beginner Japanese CD in the player, and hit the road.

The first surprise for our kids, aged 10, 8, and 6 was the lack of sheep. After three years in northern England, it was hard for them to comprehend a road trip that didn’t involve lots of sheep. You can’t drive anywhere outside of London without seeing sheep within five minutes. There is an entire sheep based amusement park in Devon.

“We won’t see sheep at all?” the ten-year-old asked incredulously. “Are you seriously telling me we are going to drive all the way across America and there won’t be any sheep? Don’t they have sheep?”

“Not many. But you will see cows, maybe some horses. And once we get to Yellowstone there will be lots of bison.”

The second big shock for the kids was how easy it was to eat out. During our three years in England, we had made the most of our time by traveling extensively throughout Britain and Europe. Meals were often a serious challenge for our picky eaters. Even food that sounded good to them on the menu often had a sophistication beyond their palate. The fancy grilled cheese sandwich in Paris was totally unacceptable. The cute frankfurter cut into the shape of an octopus in Austria was rejected after one bite.

The children were frustrated when we rejected the perfectly good McDonalds and ushered them into the sit-down restaurant overlooking Niagara Falls. “I just want chicken nuggets,” one whined.

“You’ll be able to get chicken nuggets,” I assured her. “All restaurants in America have chicken nuggets. It’s practically the law.”

All those hours in the car were the perfect time to learn Japanese. A highly-rated audio course where you learn naturally by repeating and filling in the blanks seemed perfect. At first, the kids were all in. “Good morning, Ohayo gozaimasu” everyone in the car dutifully repeated.

It got old very very quickly. Turns out hours of listening to and repeating phrases were as dull as the flat acres of sheepless grass flickering by our windows. Still, I remained determined. We would not let this opportunity slide by. Multiple groans accompanied each lesson.

Round about Iowa our eldest put her foot down. “Biiru o nihon onegaishimasu!” droned the voice. Two bottles of beer, please.

“So far,” she piped up from the backseat, “all I’ve learned is how to order drinks in a bar and pick up women in the park. Unless these are your top goals for my time in Japan I’m done with this language learning thing.”

She had a valid point. Aimed at businessmen and backpackers, the vocab lessons were not very relevant to school-aged children. We gave up.

The longest stretch without a stop to visit family was the bit between Chicago and Yellowstone where my sister worked. Mt. Rushmore will break up the trip nicely we thought. Our first inkling that something was amiss with this plan was when we tried to book a nearby hotel. Room rates were sky high, and mostly unavailable.

Turns out our timing coincided exactly with the annual Sturgis motorcycle rally. While we awarded ourselves retrospective parenting points for immersing our children in yet another distinctive American subculture, winding mountain roads, and an unbelievable volume of motorcycle traffic combined to produce numerous bouts of motion sickness, and our longest, most frustrating day of travel.

By the time we rolled into Yellowstone, everyone was a bit road-weary and ready for our four days there. My husband and I had been hyping Yellowstone the entire trip. “Bison are everywhere,” we promised. “We’ll have to stop and wait for them to cross the road just like the sheep in England. You’ll see.”

As we neared the park entrance, I started making up contests to entertain my weary children. Prizes were offered for the first person to spot a bison. Guesses were made and logged about how many bison we would be able to count before getting to the hotel where their aunt worked.

Unlike my promise of ubiquitous chicken nuggets, which was proved accurate seriously raising my parenting creed, the bison were nowhere to be seen.

“It’s mating season,” my sister explained once we met up with her. “They are gathering away from the roads. If you do see them, stay far away. Mating bison are even more dangerous than normal.”

We had to content ourselves with Bisony, the plush toy we bought in the gift shop, and a few random spottings during our four days in the National Park.

At least Old Faithful was faithful.

My brother called as we were pulling out of Vegas after a brief pit stop to gorge ourselves at an all-you-can-eat buffet in keeping with the general theme of our introduce-the-kids-to-American-culture trip.

“I have three very important questions for you. Do your kids know about Webkins? How about Hannah Montana? High School Musical?”

It was 2007 and his kids needed to know how much cultural background was going to be necessary to educate their “foreign” cousins.

The Boston cousins had taken care of introductions to the Webkins craze. They were waiting with one for each of our kids. Webkins were all the rage for a few years. You purchased a plush toy and then used a code to log in and play computer games with your virtual pet. Every night in the hotel there was a fight for laptop time to check in on and play with their Webkins.

Hannah Montana and High School Musical were foreign to us but the LA cousins soon sorted that one out. While our timing had produced a lack of bison in Yellowstone and a surplus of bikers in South Dakota, we were spot on for the exciting premiere of High School Musical 2.

A day at Disneyland rounded out our cultural experience before the long flight to Japan.

By the time we landed and made it to our Japanese hotel, my husband and I were ready for those two bottles of beer. Good thing we knew how to order them.

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