The real Argentine: Notes and Impressions of a Year in the Argentine and Uruguay

by J. A. Hammerton

There are strange tastes to be noted, for one of the most imposing private residences in the city, indeed the most remarkable of all, worthy to be used as the Government House, has been built within recent years by a successful Italian in the Plaza Zabala, almost within hail of the docks, and in the very centre of that fan handle which I have already described as the turning point of the multitudinous trams. The frequent visitors who leave their ships for a short ramble round the town are always arrested by the imposing appearance of this building, and often little groups of them are to be seen discussing what it may be. Never by any chance did I notice visitors pausing before the plain little colonial residence a few paces westward in the same street, where a tablet records the interesting fact that it was the lodging of the great Garibaldi when, during the final struggle between Rivera and Oribe (1843-1851), the hero of Italy for a time commanded the Brazilian regiment, which, with the Italian and French legions, defended Montevideo against the leader of the Blancos.

So far as fresh air is concerned, there is certainly no reason for preferring one part of Montevideo over another, as the whole town is so accessible to the sea breezes that even in the height of summer, when the population of Buenos Ayres is gasping for breath, there is always fresh air in Montevideo—infinitely more than the Argentine capital is it the city of buenos aires (good airs). As for paseos, there is no lack. Many a pleasant evening did we lonely Gringos pass at one or other of the playas, as the waterside resorts are termed. Thanks to a public commission, which takes in hand the organisation of the summer fêtes, there is always something going on at one or other of these resorts, and half an hour in the tramway suffices to transport one to Remírez, Pocitos, or Capurro, as the occasion serves. Each has its respective noches de moda, when the promenade pier is illuminated with the usual prodigality of electricity, and a band plays for some hours, during which the paseantes wander up and down to the strains of the music, and after the last number has been played, hasten to the homeward trams—the mildest and most innocent form of pleasure imaginable, and entirely at variance with European notions of South American life.

Of Pocitos, I retain the most agreeable memories, for many was the night we lingered on its gaily lighted pier, listening to the band, watching the throng of idlers, or “looking lazy at the sea,” where the light-house on the Isla de Lobos (the island of sea-lions, where many thousands of these animals are killed every year for the oil they yield, and for their skins) was throwing its beams across the dark waters of the estuary—a signal post to the broad Atlantic and to Home! The water front at Pocitos has been turned into a splendid promenade, comparable almost with the Marina at Rio de Janeiro, and among the little rocky prominences are many charming glimpses to remind the exile of the shores of his homeland.

Often we rambled, too, on foot along the coast to Ramírez, over fields and rocks and patches of sandy shore, catching sight at times of the big ocean liners slowly creeping up the river on their way to the great city of the southern shore.

Ramírez is not so fashionable as Pocitos, being rather the resort of the multitude. At the latter playa during the season, when the fine hotel is thronged with visitors, one may see the latest Parisian modes, exhibited chiefly by Argentine lady visitors, who are nearly always distinguishable from the quieter and slimmer belles of Montevideo, but at Ramírez we have a miniature Blackpool, with open-air theatres, merry-go-rounds, shooting galleries, and such-like diversions of the mob. Here, too, is the fine Parque Urbano, beautifully laid out on bosky, undulating ground, with devious little waterways, where pleasure boats, shaped like swans, ply for hire. Hard by the pier, stands the great Parque Hotel where the chief attractions are the gambling tables, mainly patronised by wealthy Argentines.

At both places there is bathing throughout the summer, after the water has been duly blessed by the Bishop, on (I think) the eighth of December—for the native does not venture to dip himself until that ceremony has been performed. Long rows of bathing boxes line the beach at Pocitos, but the local authorities are curiously indifferent to the interests of the bathers in choosing a little promontory about half a mile from the pier for burning the refuse of the city and throwing it into the water, so that the whole of the little cove shows along high water mark a thick line of dirt washed up after the ill-advised sanitary efforts at the point! It is thus customary for the bathers, on emerging from the salty waves, to wash themselves from pails of clean water, in order to remove the traces of burnt refuse from their bodies. This is a little touch that is quaintly South American.

Capurro, the third of the suburban resorts, is prettily situated on the bay, about midway between the city and the Cerro. It serves the western part of the city, which stretches out along the bay, and did not seem to be much frequented by the summer visitors, though on a noche de moda we used to see its numerous electric lights blazing like a little constellation as we looked westward from our windows in the plaza.

Finest of all the paseos is the Prado. This splendid public park lies in the same direction as Capurro, and through its undulating grounds runs the little river Miguelete. It is the pride of the Montevideans, and fully merits the charming adjectives they apply to it, for it abounds in fine avenues of century-old trees, and winding walks among rich and varied vegetation, while its rosarium is very extensive and contains an infinite variety of roses. Well kept, provided with a good restaurant, and seats for the weary, with boating on the Miguelete among the swans, the Prado is certainly a great possession for any town, and will compare with most North American or European resorts of the kind. It is favoured by the residents more than by the visitors, and on Sundays is the scene of innumerable picnic parties.

Nor must I forget, in recalling the scenes among which we spent our summer at Montevideo, the curious little Zoo at Villa Dolores, some little distance from Pocitos. Here again, we encounter one of the many evidences of difference in the Uruguayan and Argentine characters. This institution, originally a portion of a large private estate, and established entirely as a private collection by the owner, has recently been made over to the Government, who are continuing its maintenance in a praiseworthy manner. It is the outcome, not merely of the educational side of zoology, by which I mean the illustrating of animal life by living specimens, but of a desire to promote a friendly interest in the animals. Among the many curiosities it contains is a little cemetery, with monuments to departed pets. Some of these are quite elaborate affairs, with inscriptions full of naïve tenderness, though it is difficult to suppress a smile at a memorial to a pet serpent! Dogs, cats, monkeys, donkeys, parrots, and I think even a lion are among the departed whose memories are here preserved.