62 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | MAY 2018
THE FOCUSReal Talk
8.23 a.m. As I’m exiting the train station, an elderly Japanese
man carrying a large satchel shuffles by, smiles at me, and says loudly:
“I love you.” He lets out a belly laugh and shuffles away. I have to pause
to catch my breath. I flew to Tokyo from my home in L.A. on the one-
year anniversary of my father’s death. On paper my dad and I didn’t
have much in common. He was a gym teacher who liked routine; he
ate pasta practically every night for dinner; he hated travelling. I’m a
gay travel writer who just ate raw fish for breakfast, again. Whenever
I was away on assignment, I’d call to tell him about some surprising
thing I’d seen. All I wanted this morning—every morning—was to
be able to call him. I’m not saying this old Japanese guy was some
celestial incarnation of my dad or anything. Probably he spotted a
hopeless white guy and decided to practice the only three words he
knew in English. But still.9.55 a.m.
Ready
Player One
The Japanese word otaku means
“fanatic,” or rather “obsession,” to
the point that you can’t see how it’s
ruining your social skills. Everyone
in Tokyo seems to be video game-
otaku. In Akihabara, or Electric
Town—with its seven-storey arcades
and used-electronics stores—I visit
Club Sega to play a virtual reality
game called Mortal Blitz, which is
the best $15 I’ve ever spent. You put
on a backpack and VR gloves and
walk to your starting position on
the arcade floor. Pick up your rifle,
put on the VR goggles, and—bam!—
you’re standing on a spaceship bat-
tling winged aliens. How real does
it feel? At one point, staring down
into a digital abyss, I had to take the
glasses off so I didn’t puke.10.46 a.m. Beneath every building seems to be a shopping mall and
food court.Figurine shops and “maid
cafés”—where servers
dress up as housemaids—
11.12 a.m. abound in Akihabara.
Toy Story
When I was 12, we had a garage
sale where—against my father’s
wishes—I sold my favorite toy
for $15. It was a hefty metal ro-
bot called Voltron that starred
in a Japanese cartoon I watched
dubbed in English. I spend an
hour roaming Akihabara’s man-
ga toy stores looking for my
Voltron in his birthplace. “Very
rare,” one shopkeeper tells me,
directing me to multistorey
vintage-toy shop Mandarake,
where, between rows of ancient
Godzilla toys and Hot Wheels, I
find an original Voltron set from
the ’80s, still sealed in its box,
for $400. My dad was pissed
that I’d sold Voltron, but he’d
turn over in his grave if I paid
$400 to get it back. Not when I
could meet a real robot at ...