Those Boston Women!!!!

A certain uncle who had just arrived (for the first time) in Massachusetts from Paris, France, was complaining to Grandpa Peter, agonizing over the fact that whenever he went downtown to Boston, (Massachusetts), women were always beckoning to him. "That's odd," replied Grandpa Peter. "I go in to downtown Boston all the time, and no women ever beckon to me!"

Crossing your legs in church?

Crossing your legs in church?  That's a no-no that young Marash Girl learned years ago when she visited the Armenian Apostolic Cathedral in Paris, France.

Young Marash Girl was sitting in a pew a ways back from the altar, entranced by the service and the music, when all of a sudden she felt a slap across her knee.  She looked up to see an old Armenian woman, all dressed in black,  shaking her head and shaking her finger at Marash Girl, pointing to the crossed leg.  

"Whoops," thought young Marash Girl, and never again has Marash Girl crossed her legs in church.  She can still feel the sting of that slap! 

And on yet another light note

Overheard at a bus stop in Paris:

Young American woman to young Frenchman: Avez-vous le temps?

Young Frenchman to young American woman:  J'ai le temps, mais je n'ai pas l'inclination.

Thanks to Sylvia K. for the above story!

Beckoning Women, Women Beckoning.

"Every time I go in to Boston, women are always beckoning to me," Marash Girl's uncle from Paris would insist.

"That's funny; I go into Boston all the time, and no women ever beckon to me!" Marash Girl's father Peter would reply.

Little Armenia in Paris

Ann Louise writes, "When we were in Paris (for one day) this establishment, La Maison De L'Armenia,
 was just down the street from our hotel."

"Don't learn the hard way!"

Having had to park (and not so happily) in a downtown Boston parking building . . . one of the most expensive that Marash Girl can remember, she was surprised to see the above warning posted prominently in every corner of every level; you'd think the parking fee would guarantee a certain amount of security!

Be that as it may, the sign reminded Marash Girl of the sign she saw posted many years ago as she entered the elevator that would take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower.  The sign was in French, of course, but Marash Girl still remembers its import:  Beware of the pickpockets!  She was so surprised!  In that beautiful city there were pickpockets?