| LA RAMBLA, MAR DEL PLATA. |
[CHAPTER XIX]
A MIXED GRILL
In the hot months, December, January, and February, it is the proper thing to move to Mar del Plata. There the rich Argentines disport themselves with the gorgeousness of the Russians at Yalta in September. If the ladies do not bathe in pearl necklaces they wear exquisite "creations"; and propriety insists that the men must wear a costume which is a cross between a frock coat and a suit of pyjamas. The Parisian houses have their representatives in the Republic, and an Argentine lady who does not change expensive dresses five times a day is out of the fun. There is gold and gambling and dancing at the most elaborate, though not the gayest—for the Argentine is not gay—seaside resort in the world. As for the "tango" dance, no respectable Argentine ever dances it. I have seen it performed in tempestuous manner amongst those who do not mind whether they are considered respectable or not—a very different thing from the milk-and-water efforts in London ballrooms.
It is not quite decided whether the phrase "filthy lucre" comes from the United States or from Argentina. There is only one dirtier thing in the world than the American dollar note, and that is the Argentine peso; but in extenuation of its filth one has to remember it is less than half the dollar's value. I am convinced that one of the reasons money is held in small regard in the Argentine is that nobody can have any respect for a worn, tattered, and evil-smelling piece of paper, even though its equivalent be a shilling and eightpence. I never appreciated the genuine value of money till I changed a bilious and decrepit ten peso note for half-crowns, shillings, and threepenny bits. Of course, the Argentines have no money but paper and nickel, though you are assured there are untold millions of gold in the cellars of the national casa. But you never strike anything but paper. When I drew English gold from the bank for use on my voyage home, and swaggeringly emptied an envelope of sovereigns on the table at a luncheon party given by the British Minister, my lady neighbour gave a little shriek of delight at the blessed spectacle of a real English sovereign. The only coin which holds good the world round is the British sovereign.
Now of the cosmopolitan throng exploiting the resources of Argentina it has been left to the Jews to work on distinctive racial lines. The Hebrew population numbers 40,000, a community founded and fostered according to well-defined plans which not only ensure the comfort and well-being of the thrifty, but mark a revival of agriculture as one of the industrial arts of the Jews.
Centuries of wandering, of persecution and oppression, of lethargic waiting for the "return to the promised land," divorced the Hebrew from his original position as an agriculturist. In the Argentine he is beginning to rehabilitate himself. Backed by the Jewish Colonisation Association, and aided by that commercial talent which has become characteristic of the Jew wherever he may be, the Jewish farmer in South America represents a new type in the great Israelitish family.