Word: caf
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...Café Students. The Gaullist government is frantically building 42,000 more university places. That is less than half the need, and not a single new place is being added at the University of Paris, which has 100,000 students in its five colleges in the Latin Quarter. Hardest-hit is the age-blackened Sorbonne,* the Paris college of letters, which was built for 10,000 students and now has 32,000. The Sorbonne has only 100 professors to do all the lecturing. It has only half a dozen seminar rooms; the 600 sociology students hold their seminars...
...BALLAD OF THE SAD CAFÉ, adapted faithfully but rather ponderously from the short story by Carson McCullers, finds Playwright Edward Albee in middling-to-poor form. However, Colleen Dewhurst, Lou Antonio and a remarkable actor-dwarf, Michael Dunn, give the evening moments of phantasmagorical vitality...
...BALLAD OF THE SAD CAFÉ, adapted faithfully but rather ponderously from the short story by Carson McCullers, finds Playwright Edward Albee in middling-to-poor form. However, Colleen Dewhurst, Lou Antonio and a remarkable actor-dwarf, Michael Dunn, give the evening scattered moments of phantasmagorical vitality...
...Italian presence is ever more inescapable in modern-day Argentina. Statues of Garibaldi, Mazzini, and Columbus populate large urban plazas. Street names run from "Venecia" and "Milán" to "José Verdi" and "Arturo Toscanini." Newsstands are thick with Italian magazines, bars flow with Campari, coffee shops with café alia italiana, and restaurateurs serve up steaming hot pizzas, ravioli and pasta frolla-even if they cannot always spell the names. Argentine men favor Italian-style stovepipe trousers and moccasins; many women are forsaking French styles for designers like Simonetta and Pucci...
...Public Eye has the edge in freshness and invention. Mr. Cristoforou (Barry Foster) materializes in an austerely elegant London office lined with muted leather bindings. Against this background, Cristoforou is a sartorial explosion of black and brown stripes, flaming yellow tie, a café-au-lait shirt, off-beige shoes, and foreign correspondent's raincoat. He is also a walking menu of odd goodies. Out of his pockets and briefcase, he dredges and devours bananas, Brazil nuts, cartons of yoghurt and handfuls of macaroons, while flourishing an empty sugarcellar. A Greek by descent, and a private detective by happenstance...