7/7: You’ve got a right to know

The places we visited today were very different from the rest of our trip so far, which have mostly been related to Paris’s early history. Today we saw Bercy, an immigrant neighborhood that was revitalized by efforts spearheaded by French president Mitterand in the 1980s. Mostly brownfield redevelopment, this area is now home to a sports arena, an outdoor mall, a sprawling, beautiful park complete with a community garden, and several riverside cafes and restaurants, all while still being a connected, tight-knit neighborhood. It’s a really impressive area, even though (or maybe especially because) it’s not very touristy. We barely heard any English while we were there. But the place in Bercy that I most want to talk about today is the Bibliotèque Nationale de France, the French National Library.

This place was amazing, from an architectural perspective, of course, but also from an educational standpoint. The library is built on a large hill, so half of it is a large staircase surrounding it, resembling a plinth. The stairs are made of wood, which Dr. Smith explained both softens the architecture and improves traction—certified rainy day safe! On each corner of the rectangular library is an L-shaped tower (to resemble books), each a specialized research wing for those with more credentials than me. The main event though is the forest in the center of the library, visible from all inner windows, with local foliage carpeting the ground in the heart of the library. I’ve never seen anything like it!

Along the hallways inside are plaques facing the forest with information about local plant and animal life. These were incredibly accessible, with braille text on every sign, but also with raised illustrations to convey the texture and shape of whatever each sign was about. On the opposite wall, looking away from the forest, was information and illustration about the history and iterations of French national libraries, as well as important people associated with the library.

The library was also like a miniature museum at parts—especially the room showcasing the globes of Louis XIV. These enormous, two ton globes mapped out the world (according to the 1680s) and the stars of the night sky (arranged as they were on the night of little Louis’s birth). The globe of the earth is fascinating, as parts of Australia, Tasmania, and New Zealand are blurry or missing, and California is a island (thanks to lazy Spanish explorers who decided Baja California just probably went all the way up instead of looking for themselves). They used to be mounted on huge, ornate contraptions that allowed them to be rotated at the viewer’s (King’s) leisure, which really puts into perspective just how insanely wealthy Mr. Sun King really was.

The other room that caused me to get really excited was a room with lots of manuscripts of music significant to Paris. The ones that stuck out to me were Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring and Debussy’s La Mer. I really love both those pieces, so this room was amazing. At first I wasn’t sure what we were walking into, and was still thinking about those awesome globes, but an excerpt from The Rite of Spring playing immediately got my attention. I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve ever played either piece in an orchestra (UMW Philharmonic 2022-23, don’t fail me now), but I’ve always loved listening to them (and the stories behind their first performances—neither was received particularly well). It was really cool to see them, especially in a library, which I don’t usually associate with music (or any sound at all). That’s all for today!