Word: waitering
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...afternoon, we went for ice cream and the waiter lingered after noticing our foreign accents. "This is a fascist country," he said, unprompted, and launched into a detailed attack against the Pinochet government. We listened, astonished, pretending ignorance. "Were things better once?" I asked. "Yes--under Allende--and that's why they killed him," he answered...
...amazingly warm and wonderful man who seems to know half of Santiago. A middle-aged vendor of balloons meanders by and Hans tells us, "He's with MAPU [the Christian left]." We take Hans to dinner--he had not eaten all day--and the waiter and he exchange knowing winks and oblique references; they were both members of the Socialist Party...
Wholesome as milk and doughnuts, the waiter scoots by, gathering used ashtrays and empty glasses on the way. Like most people here, his clothes are what you see first, from the unmuddied sneakers and bleached athletic socks to the bright satin basketball uniform with the letters stitched on the back: 15 Lansdowne. He is part of a team which is playing a game and the game is this: look but don't touch. Smooth-faced youth and athletic grace are the common denominators among the waiters here. He weaves between tables and chairs like a pro headed for that...
CABRERA ATTACKS the Cuban revolution simply by painting it with the same colors that he uses for any other tyranny. He tells of a waiter turned terrorist who becomes a police interrogator and lives in a confiscated mansion. He recalls famous escapes, such as the two men who stowed away in the landing gear of a plane flying to Spain. (One of them fell out during the journey but the other arrived eight hours later, half-frozen.) The case that the book builds is guilt by association: the Cuban revolution rose out of a tradition of violence and has perpetuated...
...stalking the ruined stairs, lurking behind the columns. One dark figure assumes a Byronic posture in the doorway; the thick stone lintel looms threateningly over him. In Levit's photograph of the spot, crisscrossed by the wires of a restaurant awning, the door assumes its proper proportions and the waiter standing in the doorway (in roughly the same position as Piranesi's mysterious character) looks rather silly. The ruin is now officially designated a ruin, not a stage...