Reminds me of a time I was in Mexico, killing time waiting for a mate to arrive for a weeks fishing. I found a hole in the wall "cafe" and sat at a shitty table on a shitty plastic chair on a shitty sidewalk. There was no menu, so I pointed at what the labourers on the table next to me were eating, and put my thumbs up. The waiter raised his eyebrows. A few minutes later it arrived and the guys on the next table started giving me furtive glances between bouts of sniggering and whispering. I have no idea what was in it, the only thing I could positively ID was tripe. It tasted absolutely effing disgusting, and every mouthful was gut-wrenchingly awful. But there was no way I was going to be "that gringo" so I polished it off.
I may have learnt a lesson that day.