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About Osaka

Caught some bouillabaisse vibes once—Earth folk call it that. Fishermen in Marseille, scruffy bastards, started this. They chucked ugly fish in, shit no one bought, cooked it up nasty. Little secret? Them Frenchies used absinthe once, got pissed, stew went wild! Tasted like a pirate’s wet dream, ha! Got me buzzin’, happy as a clam—alien clam, mind ya.

A word of warning: Hostess bars and the red-light district

As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their .

First off, I grab my coffee from that little joint on Kōen-dōri. You know the one? The barista there, Yuki, she’s got the best latte art. I mean, I’m not a coffee snob, but c’mon, a heart in my cup? That’s love, man. But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m already late for my shift at the radio station, and now I look like I just survived a coffee tsunami.

Fukui Murata Manufacturing to Establish New Ceramic Capacitor R&D Center