Le Bugue Black Périgord Beyond Forbisher R Mandangle 9780986109218 Books
Download As PDF : Le Bugue Black Périgord Beyond Forbisher R Mandangle 9780986109218 Books
Stacked up beside the city guide books across the planet, this one to Le Bugue, a village deep in southwestern France, is of use only to the lucky few who stumble upon the village. The next time you’re tooling down the D710 in your deux chevaux you’ll be glad you’ve got Forbisher Mandangle in your glove box. He describes restaurants, hotels and gites – rental houses; the usual, but more importantly, snapshots of many of the towns and villages that can be visited easily using Le Bugue as home base. Also included is information on travel, history, architecture, cave painting, gardens and recreational activities. In full color. How are you going to find the town boule courts without Forbisher?
Le Bugue Black Périgord Beyond Forbisher R Mandangle 9780986109218 Books
The thing about travel guidebooks is that they are chock full of so much useless information. My first travel adventure to Europe’s mainland was in 1971 on a two-week, If-It's-Tuesday-This-Must-Be-Belgium bus tour through the Low Countries, Belgium, France, Luxembourg, and Germany with fifteen young Americans and two retired teachers from Scotland. The Americans had lots of fun, though it was a difficult year for some tourists. I remember in particular reading about an Edinburgh travel agent who burned to death in his 1959 Morris Mini-Minor and wondered if the Scottish couple knew him. Apparently the agent had accidentally glued his door locks while inside the vehicle when the gas tank sprung a leak and … well, you can imagine the rest. It’s terrible to lose a vintage car like that.Anyway, on a bus tour you don’t need a guidebook because the tour guide provides limitless amounts of trivia even if he can’t tell you where to get a decent cup of coffee. In those days, the tour bus companies burdened the traveler with garish pamphlets exclaiming fantastic “excursions” away from the bus at a “discount rate,” of course. No doubt it’s all streamed onto your cell phone or iPad now, as you become increasingly desperate to figure out how to disconnect from the advertising noise.
My second travel adventure to the mainland included Spain, France, and Italy in 1997. My wife and I went through the “back door,” as Rick Steves says, and thoroughly enjoyed six weeks of exploring by rail and rental car. We stayed in modest hotels and pensioni along the way, and ate good affordable meals at recommended restaurants. This was our first rub up against the culture and climate of southern France, especially the Languedoc-Roussillon and the Midi-Pyrénée regions, and it included a brief drive through the Dordogne valley on our way to Paris.
In 2003, we visited the Languedoc again for an extended stay, sinking in as it were, though it was difficult to hide one is American with George Bush in office. We practiced how to say “We didn’t vote for him” in French, and my favorite line was: Je suis desolé. Still, fields of lavender in bloom, isolated chapels with whitewash chipping from the interior walls, and nude swimming on hot days—even more fun than the first trip to southern France. But back to the topic …
The thing about guidebooks for experienced travels is that they have too much or too little information, depending on your interests. For me, it’s generally too much. I want to settle into a place, feel the breeze upwind of the motorway, enjoy the sounds of the incomprehensible language, smell fresh croissant bagged by surly wait staff, tango without being laughed at—a style of travel that clearly doesn’t fit Frommer, and I would argue, doesn’t fit that frenetic, multi-tasking Rick Steves either. I’m not looking to cram as much as possible into as many waking hours as an ageing body can tolerate, even if there are many wonderful places, events, and things that might interest me … when I’m awake. I’d rather sink a little deeper into one place and listen to what it has to say … or simply snore into its silence ... before opening a bottle of the local red. And that’s the kind of guidance that Mr. Mandangle offers in his surprisingly well-written guide to the Périgord region called Le Bugue, Black Périgord & Beyond.
So, what exactly sets Mr. Mandangle’s guidebook apart? Certainly it has useful bits about how to geographically situate oneself and to get around, and the maps are simple, color-coded, and easy to instantly place where one is and where one wants to go. Try that with a Michelin! Like all the graphics, the pictures are small yet with excellent composition that actually invites the reader to sample the location, and in some cases, the meal. Like on page 94, I just want to kiss that horse’s nose!
And be sure to check out the “odds & ends” addendum at the back of the book. It can be helpful to know the difference between foie gras made from a slaughtered goose vs a slaughtered duck, not to mention the clear tips on how to be an “ugly American” which is rapidly becoming our distinctive national character as we make ourselves great again.
Finally, despite the simpleminded recommendations for seeing the countryside or enjoying a meal, the author is serious about not taking it all too seriously. Travel for Monsieur Mandangle is about enjoying the moment, savoring whatever presents itself, discovering the extraordinary in the ordinary … on the way to the next delicious wine, followed by a sprawling nap in whatever lovely spot one finds oneself.
To sum it up in the author’s own words, “What is time to a pig?”
Oui, monsieur. Vraiment, vraiment.
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Tags : Le Bugue, Black Périgord & Beyond [Forbisher R. Mandangle] on Amazon.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Stacked up beside the city guide books across the planet, this one to Le Bugue, a village deep in southwestern France,Forbisher R. Mandangle,Le Bugue, Black Périgord & Beyond,Chandelier Galaxy Books,0986109215,TRAVEL Europe France
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Le Bugue Black Périgord Beyond Forbisher R Mandangle 9780986109218 Books Reviews
Got more than a few chuckles out of Mr. Mandangle's Perigord memoirs. Having also painfully navigated France's toll booths, I found solace in his relatable tales of a mystical land where there's no shortage of life's greatest ingredients. He's inspired a return visit indeed.
I love this book--the urbane tone, the comic comments, the gorgeous pictures. Very informative yet casual. Lacking the harried sense of an author who has had to update yet another country's must-see items/restaurants/castles. I even brought this book with me when I had to endure a drive-thru car wash (I'm somewhat claustrophobic) and felt calm and serene, as if I were in the Perigord region, transported away from the onslaught of those churning and spewing "soft touch" machines.
The thing about travel guidebooks is that they are chock full of so much useless information. My first travel adventure to Europe’s mainland was in 1971 on a two-week, If-It's-Tuesday-This-Must-Be-Belgium bus tour through the Low Countries, Belgium, France, Luxembourg, and Germany with fifteen young Americans and two retired teachers from Scotland. The Americans had lots of fun, though it was a difficult year for some tourists. I remember in particular reading about an Edinburgh travel agent who burned to death in his 1959 Morris Mini-Minor and wondered if the Scottish couple knew him. Apparently the agent had accidentally glued his door locks while inside the vehicle when the gas tank sprung a leak and … well, you can imagine the rest. It’s terrible to lose a vintage car like that.
Anyway, on a bus tour you don’t need a guidebook because the tour guide provides limitless amounts of trivia even if he can’t tell you where to get a decent cup of coffee. In those days, the tour bus companies burdened the traveler with garish pamphlets exclaiming fantastic “excursions” away from the bus at a “discount rate,” of course. No doubt it’s all streamed onto your cell phone or iPad now, as you become increasingly desperate to figure out how to disconnect from the advertising noise.
My second travel adventure to the mainland included Spain, France, and Italy in 1997. My wife and I went through the “back door,” as Rick Steves says, and thoroughly enjoyed six weeks of exploring by rail and rental car. We stayed in modest hotels and pensioni along the way, and ate good affordable meals at recommended restaurants. This was our first rub up against the culture and climate of southern France, especially the Languedoc-Roussillon and the Midi-Pyrénée regions, and it included a brief drive through the Dordogne valley on our way to Paris.
In 2003, we visited the Languedoc again for an extended stay, sinking in as it were, though it was difficult to hide one is American with George Bush in office. We practiced how to say “We didn’t vote for him” in French, and my favorite line was Je suis desolé. Still, fields of lavender in bloom, isolated chapels with whitewash chipping from the interior walls, and nude swimming on hot days—even more fun than the first trip to southern France. But back to the topic …
The thing about guidebooks for experienced travels is that they have too much or too little information, depending on your interests. For me, it’s generally too much. I want to settle into a place, feel the breeze upwind of the motorway, enjoy the sounds of the incomprehensible language, smell fresh croissant bagged by surly wait staff, tango without being laughed at—a style of travel that clearly doesn’t fit Frommer, and I would argue, doesn’t fit that frenetic, multi-tasking Rick Steves either. I’m not looking to cram as much as possible into as many waking hours as an ageing body can tolerate, even if there are many wonderful places, events, and things that might interest me … when I’m awake. I’d rather sink a little deeper into one place and listen to what it has to say … or simply snore into its silence ... before opening a bottle of the local red. And that’s the kind of guidance that Mr. Mandangle offers in his surprisingly well-written guide to the Périgord region called Le Bugue, Black Périgord & Beyond.
So, what exactly sets Mr. Mandangle’s guidebook apart? Certainly it has useful bits about how to geographically situate oneself and to get around, and the maps are simple, color-coded, and easy to instantly place where one is and where one wants to go. Try that with a Michelin! Like all the graphics, the pictures are small yet with excellent composition that actually invites the reader to sample the location, and in some cases, the meal. Like on page 94, I just want to kiss that horse’s nose!
And be sure to check out the “odds & ends” addendum at the back of the book. It can be helpful to know the difference between foie gras made from a slaughtered goose vs a slaughtered duck, not to mention the clear tips on how to be an “ugly American” which is rapidly becoming our distinctive national character as we make ourselves great again.
Finally, despite the simpleminded recommendations for seeing the countryside or enjoying a meal, the author is serious about not taking it all too seriously. Travel for Monsieur Mandangle is about enjoying the moment, savoring whatever presents itself, discovering the extraordinary in the ordinary … on the way to the next delicious wine, followed by a sprawling nap in whatever lovely spot one finds oneself.
To sum it up in the author’s own words, “What is time to a pig?”
Oui, monsieur. Vraiment, vraiment.
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