We left Kathmandu on a late flight, stopping in Abu Dhabi on the way to Paris. We flew Etihad, which was one of the nicest airlines we took. They even gave you real silverware in coach! The Abu Dhabi airport was bustling for 2 a.m., but luckily it was a short layover for our flight onwards to Paris. We didn’t really sleep on the plane, as it was already morning time in Nepal, and mostly watched movies. We arrived in Paris on time, but immediately felt the cold when we stepped off the plane. Kathmandu valley had been much warmer by comparison.
We had no trouble getting through customs and grabbed our bags and headed to the Metro. John’s father’s side of the family still lives in Europe, hence our decision to head to Paris. His dad still lived in Luxembourg, but his grandmother and aunt had small neighboring flats in the 15th arrondissement of Paris. It had been 3 years since we last visited, but luckily we were still able to remember the way and everything felt so wonderfully familiar!
We were also re-adjusting ourselves to the creature comforts of Western civilization that had been lacking for some time. Things like paved roads, enforced traffic laws, modern cars with emission controls, vaccinated pets on leashes, clean public bathrooms, bans on indoor smoking, public sanitation, potable tap water, chicken that didn’t get you sick, public transport that ran on time and had a specific route that it followed, and paying the same price as everyone else. The reverse culture shock was quite a thing.
We had told John’s Aunt Gigi that we would be coming, but had left it a surprise for his grandmother, Maggie. She was about 92 at the time, and easily one of the coolest grandmothers to have ever lived. Her mind was still super keen and sharp, and she was still able to get around on her own a little bit, though Gigi was there frequently to help.
When we walked into the apartment she actually didn’t recognize us at first, as it had been 3 years, but as soon as she realized it was us she, was delighted. We spent the afternoon catching up and having an easy dinner with Gigi.
The next day was my birthday, and Maggie insisted we celebrate with oysters and champagne. For lunch. On a weekday. Joie de vivre at its finest. We went to visit her friend who sells fresh oysters at the local market, and stopped by a nice wine shop to grab a nice bottle of wine, and then finished at a patisserie to grab some delicious pastries.
Those first 3 days in Paris were literally spent just eating, preparing to eat, and thinking about eating. Maggie also made a delicious roast chicken with her famous carrots, complemented by a wonderful bottle of Pomerol that she had kept for a special occasion.
The last day we had a few of the leftover oysters for lunch, which turned out to be a bad decision. I don’t actually like raw oysters that much, but I thought I might was well indulge. Well, my stomach did not agree as the night before we were meant to catch the train to Luxembourg, I came down with another terrible bout of food poisoning. I thought I had left that behind in Cambodia!
I was slightly queasy the next morning as we took a taxi to the station to catch the 2- hour TGV train to Luxembourg. John’s father Martin picked us up and we were just able to relax that evening at his house while I recovered. I was able to enjoy some delicious tagine, though, while we caught up and told him all about our travels.
The next few days in Luxembourg were also spent eating, while we were also babysitting John’s step sister Angelina during the day. We visited a famous chocolate cafe right next to the Grand Palais that had the most amazing sweets and cakes. We each had a slice of cake--I had Black Forest and John got Tiramisu, but neither of us could finish it! So we had to take them home.
Later that evening Martin had some friends come over for raclette (a Swiss cheese dish, like fondue but slightly different) and made Boeuf Bourguignon. One morning we also had a huge brunch with more friends--we made pancakes, potatoes, bacon, muffins, and mimosas. We went grocery shopping for the ingredients on a Saturday with Martin, and I am pretty sure all of Luxembourg was in that grocery store.
It is a very small country, and most of the population lives in the city, so I suspect that was kind of true. Luxembourg is also a very wealthy country, though, so we sort of looked like country bumpkins in our jeans and non-brand coats. The women in Luxembourg especially, all have super nice skin, made-up hair and makeup, nice clothes and generally look very en vogue. I opted for the more casual look.
Still, it was a nice jaunt for a week and the last day we ate at John’s favorite Tex-Mex restaurant in the city called Chi Chis. There was this incredibly rude Chinese guy at the table next to us, so we made sure to leave our waitress a nice tip when we left. Hospo solidarity.
After a week, we headed back to Paris, where we had the apartment to ourselves for a few days (Gigi was away on business.) We mostly relaxed, cooked, and spent time with Maggie. One evening we went to Montmartre for dinner. We wanted to go back to this great fondue place that we had been to 3 years prior (they serve you wine in baby bottles!) but when we got there it was already full and crowded with tourists, and another big group was waiting outside. It had lost its charm since the first time we went, so we decided to head to an Italian restaurant down the street instead.
The next day we paid a visit to one of the last remaining tourists sites we had not been to--The Catacombs. They were closed due to vandalism when we were there 3 years before, but had since opened up again. They were quite popular since reopening, so we had to wait in a bit of a line, but luckily we got a discount on our tickets!
The section of the Catacombs that are open to the public (the actual whole area is massive) was really cool, if slightly morbid. It was slightly jarring to think that these were once living, breathing people. Though they do try to to preserve the integrity of the bones as best they can--hence why it was closed for so long to clean up.
The following day we had the Luxembourg crew come to pay a visit. John’s father came with Angelina, as well as her Uncle, Rene, his wife, Monica, and their infant son, David. Luckily the apartment was too small to accommodate everyone, so they stayed at a nearby hotel. However, we made a delicious lamb dinner with Maggie, while the boys enjoyed a nice bottle of whiskey. The last night we went to a delicious Moroccan place near the apartment where I had another amazing tagine with great wine. John and I couldn’t help but compare the professionalism and level of service of this place with what we had worked around in Australia.
The final morning was just spent packing and doing laundry. We also went over to visit Maggie one last time, where we went through some of her old photos and she regaled us with some more stories from her life. I was looking at pictures of her in Paris with Julia Childs and Joel Robuchon, both of whom she was friends with. She offered to let me keep one of the pictures, but I declined as I felt they should stay with her and Gigi.
It is with a heavy heart that I say that was the last time we ever saw Maggie. Madeline Verheyden-Shapiro passed away suddenly, but peacefully on Nov. 1, 2015, at 94. I don’t think I could ever do Maggie justice with words, but I will try.
Maggie was a force of life. She was a progressive and a feminist, before either of those words were much of a thing. The stories she told about her life, how close she lived to the history that most of us can only learn about, made her a fascinating person to just sit and listen to. She had experienced and learned more in a lifetime than most of us are able to manage. She talked about life as a young girl, growing up during the depression, and that even in the present, she fed the birds and rats that ventured to the balcony of her Paris apartment because she knew what it felt like to go hungry and never wished that on another living creature.
She talked about visiting Russia with her father and sister as a young woman. And that at one of the parties for dignitaries, a strange young man asked her and her sister to dance. They obliged. But would think nothing of him much until later in life, when he was arrested for the assassination of John F Kennedy in Dallas, Texas. He was Lee Harvey Oswald.
She talked about working at a factory in Chicago during WWII, in support of the effort, but that she was harassed by coworkers when she wouldn’t go along with the subjugation of the black employees who worked there, and indeed saw no reason why she should not befriend them.
She talked about her time after the war when she moved to Paris, getting a job working at the Herald Tribune, where she was able to meet the likes of famed journalists like Walter Cronkite. She talked about how she befriended the chef Patricia Wells, who was also close friends with Julia Childs, who was also an expat living in Paris, which is how they all became friends. She talked about the big oak tree at Pat Well’s house where she would sit underneath it and talk with Julia, not about cooking, but about life.
She talked about her family. How her husband was from a Jewish family, and she was from a Catholic one, but they decided that didn’t matter because they loved each other anyway, and decided to do away with religion and its divisiveness.
She showed us pictures from the magazine she was featured in, for being both a full-time working woman, wife, and mother--in the 1950s. A time when such circumstances were incredibly rare.
In her older years, she was a dedicated subscriber to the New Yorker, to which she had submitted some of her own work (in addition to working on her memoirs, which I should like to read someday). She had a framed picture of Obama on her bookshelf.
She talked passionately about painting and continued to paint into her old age. She enjoyed wine and going out for champagne and oysters. She made jokes and had a self-deprecating humor. When asked how she was doing she would reply “Well, I am old” or “Which part”?
She loved her children and her grandchildren, wholly, for both their flaws and wonderful uniqueness. I think she loved me, too. She was a pioneer, a woman ahead of her time, but I feel so blessed that she was able to live a little bit in mine.
If I should be so lucky as to live to 94, I hope to live life as well as Maggie.
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