When I moved to Mauritania, a country located in the Sahara Desert, I wasn't prepared to be served boiled intestines or goat's head on a bed of couscous, the tongue arranged just so, but I did my best. Just between you, me and the Internet, sometimes I fake chewed and fake swallowed, but at least I tried to be polite and eat whatever I was served. So I was amused and offended when I had Mauritanian friends for a nice, normal spaghetti dinner and watched them leave it after one bite.
“We don't like it,” they said ...
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