The rural roads, as I have said, are shocking, especially after wet weather, for they are no more than tracks across mother earth. But man is an adaptable creature, and the Englishman gets used to the bad roads. The very discomforts facilitate companionship. No man out on the road and needing a meal has the slightest hesitation about dropping into an estancia and making himself at home. Young fellows will spend their money; and, as they cannot get rid of it after the way of the towns, it goes in buying horses to race or ponies for polo; because if there are a dozen youngsters within hail they invariably form a polo club. Folk think nothing of travelling across country many miles to witness a polo match on the Sunday. Usually the matches take place at different estancias on successive Sundays, and if there should be a homely English girl about—well, she receives as much attention as a real beauty would get in Mayfair.
Where two or three men are gathered together in England the odds are that conversation will turn to golf. Wherever men living in Argentina meet, be they Spanish, Italian, or English, they talk about horse-racing. I cannot recall that I ever met a man in the Republic who was not interested in horse-racing. I have already described what goes on at Palermo. But besides the swagger races at Palermo, and the races amongst the natives, the English like to have their camp races every few months. Not only is there the excitement of the contests, but there is real warmth in the hearts of men meeting old friends. Everybody knows what every horse has done; everybody is acquainted with the riders. There is betting, but nothing like to the same extent as amongst the born Argentines, who are gamblers, every mother's son, and will bet on anything and everything.
Sometimes one reads in English newspapers and telegrams how, on the arrival of emigrant ships in Australia and New Zealand, there is hustling amongst the ladies of those countries to get hold of the girls who are arriving as domestic servants. Every new country has its domestic servant problem, and Argentina is no exception. Unless wealthy, most people in the towns live in small flats, which is partly due to the excessive house rent, but also because servants are scarce and dear. The foreigner who has to make shift with an Argentine servant is either driven mad or deserves a medal for an angelic temper. I confess that at Cordoba I did meet with an English family who had nothing but praise for their native servants. But mostly I had to listen to tragic stories of dirtiness, theft, and unblushing lying. The trouble with so many of these Latins is that, even when willing, they seem quite incapable of learning. Of course, this applies to the lowest classes. When you get amongst the business folk you find they are quite as cute as North Americans—as the Argentines always speak of the people of the United States. After having a dozen incompetent servants in twelve unhappy months, many an English housewife ceases her search for a decent servant and does the work herself.
There may be a Merchandise Marks Act in Argentina. What I am quite sure about is, that it is the very paradise of the faked imitation article. There are certain things in Europe, be they mineral waters, or field-glasses, or razors, which are well known. It is possible to get the real thing in Buenos Aires, but it is six to one you get a faked article. The Argentines fake French wines of well known châteaux. You pay a big price expecting to get a good cigar, and more likely than not you get a brand with a well-imitated band. All the well-known Scotch whiskies are imitated, and there are half a hundred "famous" whiskies that are never heard of outside the Republic. I searched the whole of Buenos Aires to get some briarwood pipes made by well-known manufacturers. I was offered pipes bearing their names, but they were all fakes. "Sheffield" cutlery is often the shoddiest product of Germany. England has still a reputation for turning out a first-class article, but my experience was corroborated by men I consulted in Buenos Aires; it was impossible, or exceedingly difficult, to get the genuine thing. I am not going to write that Argentina is responsible for the shiploads of imitation muck which is dumped upon her shores. But there are certainly some manufacturers in some parts of the world who make cheap and nasty things, affix well-known English names, and do an enormous business in exporting them to the Republic.
The "fool" Englishman is to be encountered on the boats sailing to the Argentine. He does not read the newspapers, except the sporting columns, and "books are so dull"; but somebody has told him Argentina is a wonderful place with no end of "stuff" to be picked up. So with a first-class ticket to "B.A.," and enough cash in his pocket to keep him at the Plaza Hotel for a fortnight, he hopes to make his fortune.
"No end of Johnnies make lots of money," he explains as a preliminary to proceeding to do the same himself.
"What do you intend to do?" is quietly asked.
"Oh, anything. I think I'd like to go on one of those estancia things; awfully jolly riding about all day rounding up beastly bullocks."
"Got any letters of introduction?"