A SUMMER COTTAGE AT EL TIGRE
“IMPOSING CREEPER-CLAD COTTAGES ARE DOTTED ALONG THE BANK”
El Tigre is not an old resort. Thirty years ago the banks of the many little streams which wind in and out along the shore of the Rio de La Plata for several miles were almost bare of arboreal growth, just like the plains, or pampas, are for hundreds of miles. In fact it has only been within the past dozen years that Buenos Aires in all its cosmopolitan entirety “discovered” El Tigre. At the present time the banks are all fringed with a dense curtain of vegetation. The eucalyptus, poplar and willow alternate with each other, and closely-set peach and pear orchards are very numerous, for the Tigre fruits are large and delicious, and are in great demand in that republic. The transformation has been wonderful, and the average visitor would think that the growth was natural and not planted. This class of trees grows very rapidly when once planted by the hand of man, but nature herself slighted Argentina in the matter of trees.
As one sails in and out of the numerous canals new scenes of beauty continuously open up before his eyes. The broad canal from the railroad station is taken first, for this leads past the principal club houses. Imposing creeper-clad cottages are dotted along the bank on one side, and some of them are very beautiful. On the opposite side is the Tigre Hotel, with its many flowers and refreshment grounds. As the motor boat speeds along the regatta course the procession of passing craft is never-ending. There are launches, punts, skiffs and canoes filled with cosmopolitan parties of nearly all nationalities. Among these crowds the olive faces and graceful figures of the dark-eyed Argentinian señoritas may easily be distinguished from the blonde, ruddy-faced English girl, or the more buxom German type. The señoritas have learned to skull and manœuvre the rudder, as well as their fairer haired rivals for the affections of the youths who are fortunate to be the owners of some craft that will float on these seductive waters.
An excursion to the remote waters savours of the adventurous, for the uninitiated would soon lose his bearings. One will wind in and out of the maze of streams in continual wonder as to what the next bend will reveal. There are broad streets of water, lanes, narrow passages and even blind alleys. One might follow one course and emerge upon the broad La Plata, or he might wind in and out for hours, or even days, without once doubling on his track. Along these less frequented water ways the honeysuckle and swamp flowers bloom unaided, and the large crimson blossoms of the ceibo tree add a brilliant touch of colour. Native boats laden with willow or fruits will occasionally be met, for these watery lanes furnish the only outlet for the most of the islands to the railroad station. In fact it is a sort of rural Venice, in which the water furnishes the only means of communication. Occasionally a boat will disappear into a narrow opening that you have not noticed before, for it was so well shielded by the overhanging willows.
Many and beautiful boats will be seen upon the Tigre. There is the swift motor boat decked up high so that it can glide through the waters swiftly; again there is the broader build made for carrying a larger complement of passengers. Then there are yachts of all kinds as well as row-boats of every shape. The most of them are built in Europe, but an occasional one constructed in the United States may be singled out. There are a number of boat clubs. The oldest one was established by the English, but this has been absorbed by the Argentinians and a new one built by the British colony. This is said to be the largest rowing club in the world. The Germans have a club house, and even the Italians have built their own home. There are not enough Americans in that southern metropolis to own a club house, but some of that nationality belong to the English club, and own or have an interest in some of the gasoline-propelled launches.
The people love the good things of life. In the evening those who wish to dine in a becoming manner go to the Tigre Hotel. As the light begins to fade, here and there the launches dart in and out of the shadows to the landing-stage. The dining-room quickly becomes crowded with diners in outing flannels or evening dress. After a while the tables in the dining-room become filled to overflowing with a gay and happy crowd, and they spread out upon the terrace by the river side. If there is moonlight the effect is oftentimes almost fairy-like. Then the moon and the Southern Cross look down upon such a scene of beauty and vivacity as must make the Queen of the Night smile, and cause the stars to twinkle more brightly than usual. The rays of moonlight are intersected by the reflection of the lamps, while here and there a twinkling point that denotes a launch darts in and out of the shadows. Later the notes of the guitar and mandolin may be heard on the waters, as the happy crowd disperse to the cottages, and the youthful gallants remain yet a few minutes more by the home of the charmer and breathe in the fragrance of the magnolia blossoms upon the banks. At last at a later hour all becomes quiet, save for the silent splashing of the little waves upon the banks of the canals. Then the darting glow of the fireflies and the song of the mosquito is all that remains to indicate life on El Tigre.