I continued my interactions with West Auckland last night. Each trip is not unlike a small dose of virus; slowly immunising myself to the plague, readying my body for a move westward. Soon enough I will be a proper westie and shall be forced to buy a leather jacket and burgundy velvet dress. I’ll drink my beers in unlabelled ABC bottles from a wooden crate and I’ll like it.
The evening started with viewing a property, a pushy real estate agent and a flood of prospective tenants who didn’t appear to understand how to park their utes on a small dead end road. We moved on to a brief sojourn of babysitting which involved Minnie the black lab-cross vomiting on the carpet and then re-eating her regurgitation. I was impressed by her economy and fastidiousness.
Dinner was at Moto Japanese restaurant off Lincoln Road. The food was very nice, satisfying om noms of noodles, dumpring and katsu pork.
The bathrooms were concealed at the back of the dining room on a long corridor used by all 3-4 restaurants in the row. I liked the sharing-caring atmosphere of the corridor as it meant that you would almost always have a loo option from the six separate rooms available. The cutsie decals were everything you hope from an Asian restaurant. The hygiene was average, the floor needed a wash properly into the corners.
Testing out my new system for judgement, white board marker on the mirror… win
In spite of being in West Auckland, I did not feel in fear for my life or sanity. I did not see one person who I feared would stab me with a home made shiv.
Probably not a place you could just run into in a hurry as the loo is out the back past the cashier but for an eating establishment it was a decent option with not too many anxiety causing heebee jeebies.