I read Victor Hugo's manuscripts in a castle today...what did you do?

Today was one of those days where everything just went better than planned! I woke up, planning on getting to the library early because who knows how long it could take to get a carte de lectrice given I'm American, have never been there before, and want access to Hugo's manuscripts? Well, I decided to take the shorter métro trip and the longer walk instead of the longer métro trip and the shorter walk, mostly because I wanted the pleasure of taking Ligne 14. For those of you who didn't read my old blog, have never been to Paris, or maybe who have but don't remember, Ligne 14 is the dark purple line that runs approximately diagonally across Paris, cutting it from Northwest to Southeast, from Saint-Lazare (one of the big train stations) to Olympiades. The second-to-last stop on the 14 is Bibliothèque François Mittérand, otherwise known as the main BnF (Bibliothèque nationale de France) and my home base during my semester in Paris. It was not, however, where I was going today. I was going to the older BnF, called Richelieu (Louis XIII's chief minister, if I remember my French history or Les trois mousquetaires correctly). It seemed to be close to Opéra (aka, the métro station at the Opéra Garnier, where everyone's favorite musical takes place), so I took my favorite shortcut there using the 14—the stop Pyramides isn't too far a walk, and the 14 is at least twice as fast as any of the other lines, since it's the newest of the lines and totally automated. 

So, I took the 14 to Pyramides, headed over to this Richelieu building and yes, it was a castle! It was a castle under construction, but a castle nonetheless. The lady who "interviewed" me to give me my library card was extremely nice, from the south of France (Toulon) and we had a very long discussion about the merits and disadvantages of electronic books. I happened to have my Kindle with me, so I let her try it. We also laughed about how one of my French friends today posted on Facebook complaining about having to wait 5 minutes for a métro. Sometimes, Parisians don't know how easy they have it. I told her to go to DC and see how long it takes to get the metro. Last time I went, it was a 15 minute wait. It is NEVER that bad in France—not even when they're on strike (which is generally when there are 5-8 minute waits, I've never had to wait even 10 minutes). 

The second (and infinitely more beautiful) BnF

After a very pleasant half-hour, I had a carte de lectrice and a mission, so I walked straight into the building (the whole interview process took place in a little trailer next to the castle, because they're doing construction right now) and into the wrong reading room. Yes, you read that correctly: the WRONG reading room. It just looked so pretty, I really wanted to be in it! In my defense, I didn't know where I was supposed to go at all, so it seemed like a good guess. The lady at the entrance directed me to the reference desk in the back of the room, even though she knew the documents I wanted weren't there (it was the part of the library for art history and architecture students). I asked the lady at the desk for help, and she was pretty confused when she started searching for this collection on what must have been the wrong website. Finally, she directed me upstairs to manuscripts, where they informed me that these particular manuscripts were at Tolbiac and that I needed to order them two days in advance. That was what I figured (I had assumed I would only be able to get a card and a glimpse of the library today), so I headed towards the door. On my way out, I was informed that there was actually a microfilm copy of the documents, that I needed to look at those first anyway, and that they were downstairs in the "wrong" room I was in before!! They were on lunch break for another half hour, so I decided to go somewhere and get a sandwich, which I happily ate in the library garden while reading the chapter in Matilda about the chocolate cake. Yes, I felt classy and French in so many ways. 

The microfilm was annoying. It will not be my favorite way to read documents. But, I got to read them in the pretty room!! Basically, it's like a little movie—they have scanned all the pages and put them on a reel of film, which they project onto a white screen that is in front of you. You press a rewind or fast forward button to advance or go back, and it doesn't work very well because you find yourself constantly having to readjust everything. It took the lady a good 10 minutes just to set it up for me, and she was clearly frustrated and forgot her ID card at my desk. I returned it to her when I returned the microfilm, and she had been freaking out because she thought she had lost it. 

But, I noted the parts of the microfilm that were relevant for me, looked through all 700 pages or so of Hugo's drafts for Les Misérables (surprisingly not too much, since the book is just shy of 12000 pages in French), and decided I should go home and reread the love letters about the convent that I already have so I can make sure I'm spending my time on the right ones. My plan is to bring this iPad and type up the others. That way, I'll have them forever and won't ever have to fuss with this microfilm again. I might ask to see the originals, but it hardly seems necessary. Still, it would be cool to touch paper Victor Hugo wrote on! 

Here are some pictures of this gorgeous library: 

Pictures were forbidden, so I took these very discreetly! Shhh...don't tell!

After the library, I thought about going to Berthillon, but then I remembered someone telling me once about the Librairie italienne de Paris (the Italian bookstore), called the Tour de Babel (the Tower of Babel) in the Marais (the Jewish/gay quartier—you don't need to be both Jewish AND gay, just either or, as my host father told me). So, I decided to check it out. Maybe I could buy some Calvino before I got to Italy, which would help me keep practicing my Italian. 

There were only two customers (me and one other guy), and the owner walked by and immediately addressed me in Italian!! I was so excited I just started chatting with him. I had found the Italian equivalent of the Pléiade editions, had found the volume that has all my favorite Calvino novels in it, and was considering it more and more with each passing second. But, I wanted to know if it was substantially more expensive than in Italy (since I will be there in just under a month). With my second year Italian, I was able to do all that relatively painlessly, and he informed me that they were 75 euros here, but only 60 there, because of the shipping. Then, he looked at me, looked at the book, and said he'd make me a deal—65 euros, because I was nice, because Calvino is his favorite author, and because he had never met an American who spoke Italian so well. Then, he brought lots more books for me too look at about Calvino, and I bought one of those too, mostly because I was so happy with the discount. 

He told me the most delightful story: one day (must have been quite a while ago), a girl about my age walked in and started talking to him. She asked who the most popular Italian author was, according to his book sales. He said, without hesitating, Italo Calvino! She said: "That makes me very happy, because he's my dad!" He said that she would come back a few times a week, chat, buy books, that she was very soft-spoken and extremely nice. She lives in New York now, and one of the Italian professors at Princeton knows her. He said I could meet her one day, and boy will I have a great story to tell her! 

After this lovely encounter, I went to my Lebanese sandwich place and actually got a new sandwich!! Usually, I get Fahita or Chich-Taouk, both made with chicken, but the last time I was there, another customer was ranting and raving about this special cheese sandwich, so I decided to try it. I've already forgotten what it was called...started with an H...but it was quite delicious. The special cheese tasted kind of like an extra milky mozzarella, and the sandwich also had the typical lettuce, tomato, etc. I got that, then headed to Berthillon and got a double with pear and vanilla. Then, after a nice hour-long stroll through the Latin Quarter (back streets, far away from tourists), I hopped a métro and came back. The jetlag is starting to catch up with me, so I'm pretty much done for tonight. Besides, I only have one métro ticket left. Tomorrow is June, which means my Navigo card will work for the whole month! Unlimited rides! 

Hopefully it stops the stupid intermittent showers soon, so I can sit happily in a beautiful French garden amidst parallel trees reading my new fancy, expensive volumes of Calvino and Queneau. They were good friends, so I think they would have approved of my book-buying choices so far.