Is... Is he dead?

I confess that Mark Twain isn't an author that I know much about. To continue the confession, I'm not sure I've ever actually read Huckleberry Finn. (gasp!) I know the story though, so I must have seen the movie. So I didn't know what to expect when my sister-in-law gave me "The Innocents Abroad" by Mark Twain.

The first time I opened it I was having lunch, by myself, at the Thai Terrace. Mind you, by myself. And, you see, I have that disease where you can't keep the giggles in. I think it's hereditary - my brothers and I would become hysterical reading the Sunday comics - by ourselves. So you can imagine my dilemma when I wanted to burst out laughing while I was reading it during my lunch. I had no friend to laugh with. And when you laugh by yourself, people think you're crazy. At least the owner knows me... "Pad Thai with Tofu?"

Anyway. So there I am, reading my book, laughing out loud, and not caring about the stares. I'm not sure how to describe the book. It's non-fiction. Mr. Twain joins a group going on a tour of Europe and the Holy lands. They board the steam wheeler Quaker City and cross the Atlantic. Mark journals every ridiculous moment.

He jokes about the barbers in France that take your skin off with the hair. The French tour guides that press you to buy anything so they can get their commission from the vendor. The Italian tour guides - they take you every where to see this or that artifact, painted/sculpted/created by so-and-so two hundred years ago, the nails that fixed Jesus to the cross (which they'd already seen seven other places)... and so they would allow the guide to go on and on until they could finally ask the only important question: "Is... Is he dead?" I know, it's not funny when I say it, but it's funny in the book. Like superior Americans, they truly tortured the natives.

The chapter I just read told about when they stole ashore when their ship was quarantined at Greece and not allowed to dock. The punishment for leaving a quarantined boat - 6 months. Luckily, they got ashore, saw all the sights under a moonlit sky, and got back to the boat without getting caught.

I'm halfway through. My other book is an old friend - "That Hideous Strength." I do tend to read one new book and one old book at the same time. The new for when I need something different and exciting, and the old one when I want something familiar and trustworthy. It's kind of like the new book is my mocha almond fudge and the old one is my favorite vanilla.