My obsession with Japan’s famed robot led me to this great city

My fascination with Japan started as a child, and it came exclusively through television. The Samurai and Phantom Agents featured hilariously terrible dubbed English, but introduced Australian kids to ninja and samurai. Then there were cartoons such as Astro Boy, Prince Planet and Marine Boy, with big-eyed characters, simple animation and goodies-versus-baddies plots.

One cartoon has stuck with me to this day. Gigantor was about a giant blue robot who fought evil, but he was controlled by a 12-year-old boy. In Japan, the robot was known as Tetsujin 28, and was created in 1956 by manga artist Mitsuteru Yokoyama, who lived in Kobe.

When the Great Hanshin Earthquake struck Japan in 1995, Kobe was the worst-hit city – more than 4500 people in the city were killed, 40,000 people were injured and 400,000 buildings were destroyed.

In 2009, local businesses and government banded together to build a statue of Tetsujin 28 to symbolise the city’s resilience and rebuilding. They hoped it would become a tourist attraction that would reinvigorate the stricken neighbourhood of Shin-Nagata, which lost about 80 per cent of its buildings.

At home, I have a couple of shelves full of various Gigantor toys and models, collected from four trips to Tokyo in the past three years. To say I’m obsessed is an understatement. And that’s why I’m finally here in Kobe for the first time, on a day trip from Osaka. I want to see the place that gave birth to the big guy and pay homage.

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After a 13-minute trip on the shinkansen (bullet train) from Osaka, I arrive in Kobe, then take a short ride on a local train to Shin-Nagata station. I walk a few minutes, turn a corner into Wakamatsu Park and there he is – 18 metres tall, 45 tonnes, his shiny blue metallic shell glinting in the sun, his giant red-tipped feet dwarfing a nearby child’s bicycle, his right arm defiantly held aloft.

All of a sudden, I’m nine years old again. I have to hold myself back from squealing with delight. He’s huge. He’s magnificent. He’s awesome. I start snapping pictures from every imaginable angle. The cartoon’s theme tune plays on a loop in my head: “Gigantor the space age robot, his power is in your hands.”

I am a man of a certain age, and yet I ask a passer-by to take photos of me underneath the statue, striking the same pose as Gigantor. I have no shame.

Nearby, I find a row of streetlights that use the robot’s distinctive helmet-shaped head as light fittings. And down the end of the neighbourhood’s main shotengai (shopping street) I find Kobe Tetsujin Sangokushi Gallery, which is dedicated to the work of Gigantor’s creator, and includes small working models for the statue, a video of its construction (unfortunately only in Japanese) and 1960s toys, comics and merchandise devoted to him, along with artefacts related to Yokoyama’s other manga creations.

The rest of my day is spent experiencing what this revitalised city has to offer. I take a ride on the Kobe Nunobiki Ropeway, a cable car that takes you on a steep ride up into the hills. The top station offers magnificent views of the city below.