Like Hemingway, Mark Twain loved to boast of his hunting and fishing exploits. Returning to New York by train one day after a three week fishing trip deep in the heart of Maine (long after the state's fishing season had closed), Twain retired to the lounge car in search of a suitable stranger to whom he might relate his fishing adventures.

Having struck up a friendly conversation with a prospective admirer, Twain soon found to his dismay that his boasts of a great catch elicited a grim reaction. Still Twain pressed on...

"By the way, who are you, sir?" he finally inquired. "I'm the state game warden," the stranger growled. "Who are you?" Twain nearly swallowed his cigar. "Well, to be perfectly truthful, warden," he answered, thinking of his catch, iced down in the baggage car, "I'm the biggest damn liar in the whole United States!"

[At the start of the monsoon season each June, Cambodia's Tonl? Sap Lake floods as water comes in from the Mekong River. When the monsoons end in November, the lake lowers, leaving mud banks perfect for rice farming. The lake sometimes lowers so quickly that the locals are able to pick fresh fish out of the trees.]