so after work one night a few of the guys ask me if i want to go to dinner and watch the soccer game. sure. we drive off a ways towards the airport for a place that supposedly has some good authentic food. we get there and it's totally empty. rito starts to say that in mozambique an empty place is not a good place to eat. same is true where i live too. so i wonder why are we stopping then? i make the rationale that someone has to be the first person somewhere or else everywhere would be empty. so we sit down. rito asks if frenchie wants some wine. ok. they serve a freezing cold bottle of vin d'oc....with two tall glasses of ice, and a bottle of coca cola. oh no he didn't. oh yes he will. so goes my first calimocho, or, i forget the portuguese word. rito orders for everyone, something "really typical."
i had told him "i like everything! i'll eat whatever" even tho my inner voice was screaming, are you crazy? so we get served these two bowls of vegetable stew with bread. not so bad. until the smell hits me. like the andouillette my brother ordered in paris, one thousand times worse. oh wait, that's not broccoli..."it's a cow stomach, but the rreally the cow stomach." then there was gesturing, rubbing of the belly. it's definitely NOT broccoli. for a second i wondered if it was testicle or something since they kept talking about male cows. it was soooooodisgusting. i tried eating while holding my nose, mixing with bread, adding vinegar. nothing worked. i ate three pieces until i thought i was going to puke and politely said i wasn't hungry. no one else ever showed up to the restaurant, this place was dunzo. later on we watched the soccer game at a fancy place on the beach. i had grilled squid with french fries and enough whiskey to kill anything that may have been in my intestines. deeelish. the game was in portuguese, it sounded like an auction. bubadadgushebedafguturdmfa Manchester vivshabudpshedptdur....there's a dude on the blue team called Drogba, and i saying "trogdor! dribble-ating the soccer ball." but how do you explain trogdor?
there was a commercial for Uganda telecom. there was your typical grandma calling granddaughter and smiling, girlfriend calling boyfriend and smiling...and then a policeman guy with a sideways beret banging his head against his desk. in comes a fax...it's a picture of a rapper dude with gold chains, and it says Wanted: Smack J. For: Crimes. and the policeman calls his buddy in the bush who goes and captures Smack J, puts him in cuffs with a thumbs up. uganda telecom. excellent.
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