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About Osaka

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

After a few hours of bustin’ my butt, I finally get a break. I head to the park near Obu Station. It’s a nice spot, with cherry blossoms and all that jazz. I plop down on a bench, and guess what? I see a couple of old dudes playin’ shogi. They’re so into it, it’s like a battle of wits. I’m just munchin’ on my onigiri, watchin’ them go at it.

OBU welcomes new, returning students on Move-In Day