Around the Wards in Achy Days

Posted on 18/01/2023 by Luke

To celebrate the 150-year anniversary of railways in Japan, and my own personal achievement of having finally explored and written about all 23 wards of Tokyo, I decide to pay tribute to the city in a meaningful way. I choose to do so by embarking on a journey to walk the entire length of the Yamanote Line, a challenge that will allow me to experience Tokyo in a way that I never have before.

As the early morning sun blazes brightly between the gaps in the skyscrapers, I set out to meet my friend Maki. Though not typically a fan of early starts, today will be a long day that calls for an exception to be made. The Yamanote Line, a loop line encircling central Tokyo, is approximately 34.5 kilometres in length. But on foot, without walking on the tracks, the journey becomes a formidable 44 kilometres – just a little over a marathon’s distance. Thus, the route earns itself a playful portmanteau: the Yamathon.

I meet Maki outside a small cafe in Sumida, and we cross the bridge over into Asakusa. She asks me if she can give up, to which I jokingly reply that it’s a bit early to be considering such a thing. After all, with the Yamanote Line constantly circling the city, it’s always possible to find a train station nearby in case the need to give up arises. We set off from Ueno, the start and end point of our journey. Our first decision is whether to walk clockwise or anti-clockwise. After some deliberation, we opt for the latter, as the prospect of navigating through the eerie streets of Uguisudani at night seems daunting. And so, we set off in the direction of Ikebukuro.

As we approach Nippori, the road runs out and we are forced to venture into the familiar territory of Yanaka Cemetery (still no sign of the ‘snow-protective lifting tool’). While meandering amongst the empty graves, we become momentarily lost, but the distant rumble of a Yamanote Line train eventually guides us back to the tracks. We continue on, making our way through Tabata and eventually reaching Otsuka Station. It is here, three hours into our quest, that our journey takes an unexpected detour in the form of an interesting discovery: the first and only Green Lawson in Tokyo.

The thing that makes this store so unique is that it is fully staffed by digital avatars of Lawson employees, rather than human staff members. As we wander into the store, intrigued by the novelty of it all, we decide to explore further. As we pass by one of the avatars, she greets us with a cheerful “Happy New Year” in Japanese. As Maki chats with the AI about our epic journey along the Yamanote Line and my documenting it in a blog, the clever machine quips that it would be happy to strike a pose for a photograph. It suggests three options: a cheerful “wave,” a universal “peace” sign, or a self-deprecating “loser” sign.

Eager to learn more, I take the opportunity to ask the AI about the philosophy behind Green Lawson. To my surprise, the machine responds in fluent English, explaining that the store aims to reduce food waste, support the local economy, and contribute to world peace.

As we resume our walk, the towering buildings along the route create pockets of shade on the pavement. It’s cold in the shadows, but warm in the sun. Maki explains that there are two words in Japanese that both describe these respective conditions, but I find myself struggling to come up with the antonym for “shade.” This lack of an opposing word begins to bother me, and I consider the possibility that it might be a failing of my memory.

We continue on, passing a large group of people running along the street dressed as rabbits, a nod to the Chinese New Year’s chosen animal. At Ikebukuro, we are treated to the sight of sculptures that litter the streets. As we enter Shin-Okubo, we find ourselves wandering through the bustling streets of Korean Town. And at Shinjuku Station, we are greeted by a television screen that displays words in a mesmerising three-dimensional phenomenon.

Almost five hours into our walk, we arrive at the halfway point of our journey: Harajuku Station. Here, people stand in line, eagerly waiting to purchase tapioca from a street vendor. A little further up the street, we see a similar scene, but with people queueing up along the entire length of a road to buy shoes. In Shibuya, we encounter yet another line, this time composed of people waiting to take a photograph of Hachiko the dog, adorned with a special wreath to mark the New Year.

After hours of constant walking, our legs begin to feel sore. We decide to take a well-deserved break at a small, charming cafe. In contrast to the bustling, three-dimensional imagery of Shinjuku Station, the atmosphere at the cafe is a tranquil, two-dimensional one.

With the night falling and the wind picking up, a chill fills the air as we resume our journey through the darkening city. Despite the challenges presented by the fading light and the increasing cold, we persevere, striding forward on our journey. Close to Meguro Station, we are treated to a beautiful distraction in the form of the Meguro River Cherry Blossoms Promenade, a scenic riverside path lined with cherry trees that are illuminated by beautiful pink lights.

The tranquil scene is a welcome respite from the pain in my calves, and Maki and I take a moment to simply savour the beauty around us.

With weariness setting in, we consider the possibility of giving up, but in the end, we decide that we cannot allow ourselves to quit, for the fear of regret is too great. If we can push through and complete this challenge, we tell ourselves, then we can conquer anything. And so, we push on, determined to see our journey through to the end.

We pass through Shinagawa and the newly built Takanawa Gateway Station, the most recent addition to the Yamanote Line. At 5 p.m., the “Yuyake Koyake” bells ring out from speakers at every intersection, beckoning us to return home. But we do not heed their call, for the end of our journey is nearly in sight. In the distance, I am heartened by the sight of the bright illuminations of Tokyo Tower.

Built from the remains of United States military tanks damaged in the Korean War, Tokyo Tower was designed to mirror the iconic Eiffel Tower in France. However, in a show of competitive spirit, Japan deliberately made its tower 2.6 metres taller, earning it the title of the tallest freestanding tower in the world (a title now held by Tokyo Skytree).

As we near the end of our journey, we are mesmerised by the bright lights of Ginza, Tokyo, Kanda, and Akihabara, all of which are transformed into a neon nirvana at night. It is at this moment that I am struck by the realisation that Japan has not just four, but five seasons – one that is marked not by the changing colours of nature, but by the way in which the country’s cities and towns are transformed by the darkness of night.

After a grueling nine-hour journey that saw us take a total of 55,454 steps, we finally arrive at Ueno Station, exhausted but triumphant. Our legs ache and our feet throb with pain, but the sense of accomplishment helps to outweigh the discomfort. Upon returning to Asakusa, I allow myself the indulgence of an ice-cold beer – the best I’ve ever tasted – as a way to celebrate and relax after our achievement. As Maki and I bask in the afterglow of our journey, the fatigue slowly starts to fade away.

In an Interstellar Burst

Posted on 30/11/2014 by Luke

Toothache has returned. After two full months of remaining silent in the corner of my mouth, the pain floods back like a terrible memory. My previous trauma at the dentist is once again vivid in the forefront of my mind. Luckily for me, I still have some little yellow pills from my last visit to the dentist, and these will do for today to both numb the pain and numb my nerves.

I cycle to Seven Eleven. The moment I park my bicycle, a policeman appears out of nowhere, parking his bicycle next to mine as if intentionally blocking me in. He hops off his bike at practiced speed and starts speaking in a language so fast it might not even be Japanese anymore, pointing at me. Eventually, he asks, “Buy?” Presumably, he wants to know if the bicycle I was riding is stolen or actually my own. I hand him my residence card, and he punches my bicycle registration number into a small digital device. “Okay,” he tells me, handing back my card before riding off just as quickly as he appeared.

I leave the stolen bicycle at Minowa Station and take the Tokyo Metro Hibiya Line. Thirty minutes later, I arrive in Roppongi. My first stop today: a spot of traditional British lunch.

I am yet to see a sign for an ‘English Restaurant’; perhaps such a restaurant doesn’t exist. ‘Malins Fish and Chips’ is the closest thing I will probably find in Japan. My lunch is served to me in a newspaper-covered box: fish, chips, and mushy peas. A home comfort in the shape of a stereotype. The peas taste horrible, but the fish and chips are very good. I also order a fish cake. Sadly, this restaurant gets it completely wrong, and I am presented with something that looks and tastes nothing like the fish cakes I am used to back home.

I wander over to Roppongi Hills, an area rich with overpriced apartments, five-star hotels, and expensive shops selling ‘luxury’ goods—things people don’t really need. There are valuable bowls that are merely display pieces, candles costing over ¥10,000 each, and sofas with price tags equivalent to the average annual salary in Japan. After leaving the shops, I head out into a makeshift courtyard, only to find a giant spider outside.

This bronze statue was made by the French artist Louise Bourgeois and is one of the largest sculptures of a spider in the world. Many people are here taking photographs or posing beneath her egg sac. I snap a quick shot before heading up an escalator that leads into a cinema.

One of the main reasons I came to Roppongi today, other than to eat fish and chips, is to watch the movie ‘Interstellar.’ I pay ¥1800 and head inside to find my seat. The Japanese cinema experience is no different from what I am used to: adverts, terrible trailers for upcoming releases, and cute characters telling everyone here to, ‘Switch off your mobile phone,’ and, ‘Do not talk during the movie.’ About halfway through the movie, my little yellow pill decides to wear off. I am already in pain from having to listen to Matthew McConaughey mumble through his lines. Now I have a second level of pain, further adding to my misery.

After what feels like seven hours, the movie finally ends. I leave the cinema and head over to Tokyo Midtown to see some over-the-top decorations.

After looking at the decorations outside the overpriced stores, I head to a small ice cream shop. The staff here are the happiest people in the world. A sign at the counter declares, ‘We sing for tips.’ I order strawberry cheesecake ice cream in a waffle cone, with a latte for good measure. It is possible to request a favourite song, and the staff will cheerfully sing it as they prepare the delicious homemade ice cream. “Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O,” they sing to the man in the queue before me—an odd choice for a favourite song. I doubt the staff will know any Radiohead, so I don’t trouble them by asking. My ice cream and coffee cost me ¥940, another casualty of an expensive Roppongi.

After dessert, I discover that Tokyo Midtown is having its annual winter illuminations, known as ‘Midtown Christmas.’ Since I’m already here, I decide to check them out.

The illuminations are impressive, far better than those at Tokyo Dome. There are multiple displays, including Christmas trees that line the roads and champagne glass-shaped lighting arrangements. However, the highlight for me is the ‘Starlight Garden’—millions of dancing lights, cool smoke machine effects, and haunting music. It’s very blue. I watch for a while, transfixed by the light show, before pondering that the electricity bill here must be massive. Heading back to the station, I buy a selection of expensive cheeses before taking the train bound for Minowa.

On the train ride home, my mind is consumed by broken time paradoxes, millions of blinking blue lights, and my lingering fear of dentistry.

Conspirators of Treasure

Posted on 23/11/2014 by Luke

The ¥130 sake cup vending machine near my house doesn’t require age verification. Additionally, there’s a vending machine selling lead pipes at the Asakusa View Hotel and another one offering plastic toy animals on the platform as you disembark from the Sobu Line at Akihabara Station. The latter is quite an unexpected sight, as plastic toy animals are the last thing on my mind when I exit a train. However, this is Japan, the land of the prizing sun, and today’s prize is tucked away inside a different kind of vending machine—the King’s Treasure Box.

A sticker on the front of the machine displays the English text, ‘Let it get.’ Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I insert my ¥1000 note into the treasure box. Above the note slot, there’s an encouraging message, ‘One dream, One note!’ Among the potential prizes are a Nintendo Duel Screen, a PlayStation Vita, and even a product vaguely labelled as ‘Famous car.’

Following the instructions, I press any button, and the machine responds with an exciting clunk. I eagerly reach into the lower chamber to retrieve my prize.

My treasure quietly awaits me on the machine’s inner fake grass—Disco Glasses, proudly labelled ‘Made in China.’ These glasses, devoid of lenses and made from cheap plastic, boast voice-activated flashing red lights. Not exactly what I’d typically consider treasure. With no way of knowing if the machine stocks any ‘good’ prizes, it’s conceivable that it’s 100% Disco Glasses.

Bitter and disappointed, I scrutinise the machine for refund information. Despite my limited Japanese ability, I discern that I can follow the ‘King’s Blog’ for more information. However, details about a refund aren’t quite as forthcoming.

Disheartened by my less-than-thrilling prize, I decide to escape my disappointment by taking trains. I make my way to Aoyama-itchome Station, where my friend Genmei is hosting an art exhibition in the basement of Club Edition. Titled ‘Colourful is Power,’ her display lives up to its name, boasting vibrant hues that captivate the eye.

The venue itself exudes a more bar-like ambiance than a conventional art gallery, contributing to its unique atmosphere. I engage in a brief conversation with Genmei, a talented live painter. Having witnessed some of her live art firsthand, I can confidently say that she is an amazing artist. Her creative endeavours predominantly unfold at trance parties or raves, drawing inspiration from the mood and music of the events.

In a friendly gesture, I offer her my Disco Glasses, but she gracefully declines.

After leaving the gallery/bar, I step outside to find heavy rain pouring down. I navigate the rain-swept streets to reach the station and catch a train to Komagome. Today marks the opening ceremony for an event at Rikugien Gardens—an evening of autumn illuminations. I pay my ¥300 entry fee and enter the darkness.

These three-hundred-year-old landscape gardens have inspired countless poems. It’s been a while since I wrote a haiku, so here goes:

Hollow darkness welcomes me,
To black rain singing,
And decaying leaves screaming.

Stumbling through the woods, I eventually spot maple trees adorned with red and green lights. The path beneath my feet is sodden, my shoes squelching as they tread over the thick, wet mud. Small lanterns mark the way, guiding me through the enchanting scene. I follow the illuminated path, captivated by the beauty around me despite the biting cold. In the distance, ducks play in the lake, trees sway gently in the wind, and steam billows from spotlights, creating a stark contrast to the crisp winter air.

After walking around for about an hour, I realise I am lost in a maze of trees illuminated by scattered lights. At times, I find myself stumbling through the silent darkness. Eventually, I spot a steward; he lacks an umbrella and is soaked to the bone. As I approach, he remains silent, lifting his arm to point toward a small gap between some trees that appears to lead into a void. Quietly following his unspoken guidance, I venture through.

Ten minutes later, I emerge into a scene that resembles a different planet.

Soft blue light gently bathes the fallen autumn leaves, casting a mysterious glow over the tremendous yet somewhat spooky sight. The surroundings are shrouded in mystery and framed by towering trees. A small speaker nearby plays calming music, the falling rain inadvertently adding to the soothing chorus. Mesmerised, I watch the patterns of blue smoke, finally able to enjoy some illuminations.

Having witnessed this captivating spectacle, I embark on a ten-minute journey through quicksand-like mud, eventually finding my way to the exit.

Back in Asakusa, I indulge in drinks until midnight before heading to Tori-no-Ichi part two—the second day of the rooster this month. Once again, the streets are filled with people wielding massive rakes, partaking in the festivities. While the crowd revels in the celebration, I have a singular focus—the street food market.

I opt for Korean-style yakisoba, a generous serving of vegetables and noodles topped with kimchi. Satisfied, I join a relatively short queue for a ¥300 bag of hot baked kasutera. As I relish each bite of my favourite snack, I savour the moment. It’s precisely at this juncture that I discover the batteries in my Disco Glasses have died.

Head of a Lion, Tail of a Dog

Posted on 21/10/2014 by Luke

The sun is shining, which naturally makes me feel productive. I head over to Roppongi to visit the Tokyo Midtown Award 2014. The awards are in their 7th year, and the ceremony is a design and art competition sponsored by Tokyo Midtown. Its aim is to discover and support future designers and artists. Fourteen award-winning artworks and designs are on display, all competing for the grand prize: a trophy designed and produced by the famous Japanese sculptor Kimio Tsuchiya.

The audience here are given the opportunity to vote by pushing a button on a digital display board. The display unfairly shows the number of votes each piece of art has received. Currently winning is a piece from Saki Maeda, called, “Konkan.”

“Konkan” is similar to the Japanese “inkan,” a name given to a personal seal commonly used in Japan in place of a signature. Inkan are akin to the emblems used in medieval England, stamped into wax to seal an envelope. This seemingly simple piece of art holds slightly more depth. My interpretation is that the two konkan represent the male (black) and female (red), lying together to symbolise the seal of marriage.

Among the other pieces are: Waami, a Japanese-patterned grill pan; Yoroikappa, an armored raincoat; Origami Tale, a fairy tale told using paper folding; Harmonaca, a box of harmonica-shaped sweets filled with red-bean paste; and Omikuji, a selection of Japanese fortune picks. The winner of the competition will be announced on Friday, November 7th.

My favourite piece is Toru Otsuka’s, Empty Freezer.

The reason I vote for this piece is not just for the incredible design, but also for the fitting message that accompanies it:

“Buddhism teaches of impermanence, that there is a beginning and end to all things. As long as this world is impermanent. Buddhist statues will some day fade just as disposable cups do, and may not be much different. However, Buddhist statues and disposable goods are considered separate. That is why I would like to use the same carving techniques for Buddhist statues on disposable goods, indicating my questioning of existing values.”

After browsing all the pieces vying for the prize, I step back into the sunshine and make my way to the outdoor display area. Today, an exhibition called ‘Seating Forest’ is taking place. The setting is hardly a forest; instead, it’s a collection of diverse chairs, each carrying a unique theme or artistic edge.

There are seats that take the concept of ‘musical chairs’ a bit too literally, crafted from musical instruments; sitting down causes the seat to play music. Additionally, two chairs shaped like ears are placed on opposite sides of the forest. These ears are somehow connected, allowing communication between the individuals seated in them. However, the standout chair is a wooden structure featuring a seat on a pulley, with apples hanging from above. It allows me to hoist myself up into the sky while remaining seated.

After Roppongi, I head over to Asakusa. Today, two of my friends are playing afternoon jazz music at a bar called Soultrane, named after the Coltrane album. The bar is a bit tricky to locate, but eventually, I find it, pay my ¥2000 ‘music charge,’ and take a seat. It’s tiny, with a drum kit in one corner and a grand piano in the other. Other instruments here include a double bass, a trumpet, two guitars, and a flute.

There are about ten people here, all flipping through sheet music books—a music collective and the closest thing to an open mic event I’ve found in Japan. As a song finishes, people applaud in appreciation, and then the owner/barman calls out names. If your name is called, you get up and play, even if you have no knowledge of the song. If he asks for the trumpet and you play the trumpet, you perform. After two hours of live spontaneous jazz, we all part ways.

I wander through Asakusa for a while, and head to where all the performing artists hang out. This afternoon, they are wrestling.

The four wrestlers are incredibly lively, each dressed as characters from popular television shows. Pikachu is seen taking a beating from a character resembling Goku from Dragon Ball Z. Meanwhile, a ninja stealthily moves about, brandishing ‘Kapow!’ signs in true Batman style at precisely the right moments. Adding to the chaos, a person dressed in pink manages to overpower everyone using their tail. The scene is a whirlwind of props and rapid costume changes.

Eventually, the wrestling finishes and is replaced by the spray paint space art performer, whom I’ve seen many times before. I decide to continue wandering around. As I stroll, I pass by five geishas adorned in full makeup. Soon after, the sound of drums catches my attention, prompting me to follow the noise until I arrive at Kokusai Street.

In the middle of the road, music fills the air. Today marks a festival celebrating music and dance from the Okinawa Islands. Okinawa, situated as the furthest southwest prefecture in Japan, lies directly south of Kyushu. With its tropical climate and frequent encounters with typhoons, Okinawa seems to be both an attractive and challenging place to live. Interestingly, Okinawans have a longer life expectancy than people from anywhere else in the world, attributed to their incredibly healthy diet.

There are about ten different acts from the islands, and the procession traverses the full length of the street, culminating on an outdoor stage situated on the second floor of a hotel. The music is fantastic, and the dancing is equally impressive. Some of the costumes or characters, however, are rather intimidating.

Shisa, the official mascot of the island of Okinawa, embodies a fusion of a lion and a dog and is believed to ward off evil spirits. Three shisa are present today, each seemingly more intimidating than the last. Ironically, the only spirits here that appear malevolent are these lion-dog creatures themselves.

As I watch the well-choreographed dancing and listen to the music, I notice a sign proclaiming ‘Best International Authentic Town,’ while another heralds the event’s tenth year celebration. However, the only downside to the event is the absence of stalls vending local cuisine—those dishes known for their health benefits and longevity. I’ve been curious to try the exotic ‘dragon fruit’ of Okinawa, but alas, there are neither dragons nor fruits in sight.

I stay at the festival until it ends, then head home to dream of lion dogs wrestling with giant Pokémon, all set to the music of ‘Polka Dots and Moonbeams’.

Partly Mechanical, Hardly Human

Posted on 01/10/2014 by Luke

Today I have a meeting with a robot. I take the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to Aoyama-itchome Station. My destination is the Honda Aoyama Building. I arrive an hour early, so I decide to wander for a bit. I head to the NHK building but it doesn’t look like it’s for tourists, so I leave. I walk the length of Aoyama Cemetery. I kill time in the park. Eventually it is 3 o’clock, robot time!

I enter the Honda cafe. The ground floor of the building features a small stage, and a display of cars and motorcycles. As I wander around, every member of staff greets me with a cheery, “Hello,” and an overly practiced smile. The Honda Aoyama Building is free of charge to enter. There is a small shop selling surprisingly cheap drinks, the coffee is just ¥200 a cup, and hot too!

I take a seat five minutes before the exhibition is scheduled to begin. I am the only person here not wearing a business suit. Although there are thirty chairs, more than half remain empty. A factory construction line, depicting the process of building a car, plays on a large screen. I eagerly await its conclusion. Finally, when it ends, a woman appears, a door opens, and a strange machine drives itself onto the centre of the stage.

The woman speaks only in Japanese, but luckily, the display screen shows English text. What I’m witnessing is a new Honda product called the ‘Uni Cub.’ This mobility device can travel at 6km/h. The machine cruises around the stage for a while before the woman giving the talk takes a seat on the device to demonstrate its capabilities.

I’m unsure of the control mechanism; she simply tilts her body in a particular direction, and the device responds by moving accordingly. It’s quite impressive, and I find myself wanting one. I snap a few photographs, but the other attendees seem less interested, probably here solely for the main event. After the Uni Cub’s display, the woman drives off the stage, vanishing into darkness through a doorway. The video screen then showcases some information about the Uni Cub. Two minutes later, ASIMO makes its appearance.

ASIMO stands for Advanced Step in Innovative MObility, a humanoid robot integrated with Artificial Intelligence. Designed to assist people, ASIMO embodies Honda’s vision of harmonious coexistence between robots and humans. A concept drawing displayed on the screen illustrates a robot helping by carrying boxes up stairs—a representation of their goal. This aligns with Honda’s advertising slogan, ‘The Power of Dreams.’ However, despite their aspirations, ‘The Power of Dreams’ doesn’t seem to extend to comfortable seating. The chair I’m in during this demonstration happens to be the most uncomfortable seat I’ve ever experienced.

ASIMO demonstrates an array of skills: dancing, balancing on one leg, performing jumps with both feet off the ground, and showcasing impressive speed—he can run fast. His walking pace reaches 7km/h, slightly swifter than the Uni Cub. Interestingly, both ASIMO and the Uni Cub are constructed using the same technology. ASIMO stands at a height of 130 centimetres and weighs merely 50 kilogrammes.

The presentation continues in Japanese, detailing Honda’s pioneering work in robotics, which commenced back in 1986. The earlier models—E1, E2, and E3—were primarily aimed at achieving human-like walking capabilities. Subsequent models, E4, E5, and E6, focused on mastering stair climbing. Gradually, a body, arms, and a head were integrated, culminating in Honda’s inaugural humanoid robot, P1. Subsequent iterations, P2 and P3, involved refining and automating various functionalities. Then, in October 2000, ASIMO made its debut, marking the pinnacle of Honda’s robotic advancements.

After additional discussions and visuals, ASIMO surprises us by showcasing its singing abilities. ASIMO’s remarkable skill in sign language communication comes to the forefront as it performs an original sign language song titled ‘Making Dreams Come True.’ A truly remarkable display of its multifaceted capabilities!

“The sky looks lovely today, The clouds flying lightly above.
I wonder, will tomorrow’s sky will [sic] be just as nice?
And how will our sky look in the future?
Let’s cherish our dreams today, and fulfil our dreams tomorrow.
Let’s combine our strength, and achieve our dreams together!”

After his song, ASIMO bids us farewell with a wave and a ‘Thank you.’ An opportunity arises for me to take a photograph alongside the humanoid robot. ASIMO stands, exhibiting human-like head movements and occasional speech. It appears that ASIMO can discern between Japanese and non-Japanese individuals. When a Japanese person approaches for a photographs, ASIMO addresses them in Japanese. However, when it’s my turn, he speaks to me in English, encouraging me to ‘Smile, smile,’ in a voice reminiscent of Pinocchio, the beloved Disney character, before counting down, ‘3 … 2 … 1 …’

The entire presentation lasted about twenty-five minutes. It was gratifying to witness the most advanced robot in existence. Following the presentation, I explore the small souvenir shop, which offers ASIMO stuffed toys, key rings, and other assorted junk.

On the train ride back to Asakusa, I think about the future of robotics. I really hope that someday in the near future, I will be cruising around on my Uni Cub with my very own ASIMO running alongside me.

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