I always wanted to have

our own house.

When I met John

he was the first
foreigner

I ever met in my life.

He was working for the

Associated Press.

He was a foreign
correspondent.

He was writing a lot
about Japan

and about China.

One day we heard

that an old farmhouse

was about to be
destroyed.

When we got there,

it's like being sent
by time machine

back to 18th century.

John and I fell in love

with this farmhouse
at the first sight.

Japanese farmhouses

are dark.

Gradually you
can start seeing.

I've never seen
crossbeams like that.

Wow, very spacious and

very high ceiling.

"Oh, this is great!",
I thought.

It's just instinct.

The aroma of this house

was beautiful.

Smell of the earth,

smell of the wood,

smell of the smoke,

a little bit.

I felt life,
very healthy life,

being led in that space.

I said: "We

should get this
farmhouse and

transport it to somewhere

and we can build
our own home."

Now, when I look at

these photographs,

definitely it's not
yesterday.

It's --
It's long ago.

In the beginning I said:

"Let's talk for two days
Japanese and

for two days English."

As we got exited

we always ended up

talking English.

This is an old AP office.

He started to work
here since 1959.

And he had little

mustache and

he always enjoyed

a good cigar.

He didn't know much
about the countryside

of Japan.

So I took him to Gifu

where my family is.

He became like a member

of our family

and he adopted me

as his son.

We got the house.

But no land.

So we looked, looked

and looked.

It was either too far
away

for him to commute
to AP office in Tokyo,

or too expensive.

We came up the hill.

We saw this view
of the ocean.

Breathtaking!

We must buy
this property.

Moving old farmhouse

to come Kamakura

was a big undertaking.

This long beam is about

50 feet long.

One piece of the wood.

As we come to the curve

we moved the wood

and we gradually,
gradually

came up here.

John was very popular

amongst not only

carpenters,
but everybody.

And he made the people
always laugh

within his limited
Japanese.

It was a very
exiting time.

You see the formation

of the roof beams

in this form
of prayer's hands.

In Buddhism
we pray like this.

When the roof
is completed

we celebrate.

And the whole idea is to
ask God to descend

on this new house to
protect the house,

family,

and always with salt
and saké

for the sake
of this happy

house: Kampai.
Everyone drinks.

Every day was
a happy occasion.

We completed the house

in June of 1967.

So 41 years we
have been living here.

Minka has a space

which is mysterious.

People come and

they don't leave.

We are close to nature

in Minka architecture,

I think.

Large post and beams.

And we feel secured.

I think,
this Minka brought him

a peace of mind

in a way that this is

his own home

and I'm here.

Before coming here

he was ready to go
to any part of the world

at any time when
AP head office says.

As the time went by,
I think,

that this Minka made

him stay in Tokyo office.

He settled here.

Can you see?

John loved the people

and the story,

stories about them.

So this is a perfect
place for

John to interview people.

Both private or public,

or whatever.

Hmm.

He always liked red wine.

Big bottle.

He consumed sometimes
many.

Many empty bottles.

Oh gosh.

It's a short poem wishing

the house
doesn't catch fire.

Good day of June,
1734.

When I did this -

John's Minka -

I was not thinking of

becoming an architect,
yet,

at that time.

Later,

I got clients for

this type
of architecture.

When I see really good
houses

and when I fall in love

with this Minka

I get this house
dismantled

and store
it in my storage

for someone
who might say,

"I need a Minka."

Over here

is my graveyard.

Not mine,
but Minka's graveyard,

for Minkas.

One day they
will turn into earth.

The world of wood

when they are standing

and when they are
standing

at the end as a house

and laying here
to be buried.

Like many things

there is always End
of Life

and they have just
about to finish it.

This is an important

photograph I took,

as I said the farewell

goodbye to John.

And I always thought

he was smiling at me.

But when I enlarged

this photo
and when I looked

at him very carfully

I could see in his eyes

something much deeper.

Every time I come here

to this room I greet him.

And I say,
"[speaking Japanese],

I'm here, back at home."