Читать книгу Argentina and Her People of To-day - Nevin O. Winter - Страница 7

“GIANT CRANES ARE SWINGING”

It is only necessary to go down to the immense docks of Buenos Aires to get a vivid idea of the vast commerce of this city. It is a scene that cannot be duplicated even in New York with its far greater traffic. All you can see along those docks is the lofty bow of an ocean greyhound heaving up now and then above the dock-shed, as the tide ebbs and flows, and each one looks very much like the other. Here in Buenos Aires they stretch along the edges of the basins, funnel behind funnel, bridge behind bridge, as far as one can see, until the vision is lost in a veritable sea of masts. A splendid freighter just in from Europe and loaded with champagne, automobiles and other luxuries may lie next to a river boat just in from Paraguay and loaded with oranges and bananas. Giant cranes are swinging, heaped-up trucks are constantly on the move and men are carrying loads backward and forward. Here are vessels from all the carrying nations of the world, flying the flags of Germany, Italy, France, Great Britain, Spain and Austria, but the flag of the United States is not visible. Out of the thousands of vessels which entered this port last year, there were only four small ships that sailed under the stars and stripes of Uncle Sam. Out in the river dozens of boats may be seen anchored, for the freighters are oftentimes obliged to wait three or four weeks before they can enter one of the basins and discharge their cargo. Outside the vast warehouses, which are always packed clear to the roofs, are scores of trucks and drays busily loading or unloading, and conveying freight to and from the railroad freight depots and the commission houses. And just beyond the line of drays is the dock railroad, where the switch engines are busily engaged in shoving cars backward and forward.

These immense docks, built only a few years ago, are already too small, so rapidly has Buenos Aires grown. Although almost four hundred years old, this city is as new as Chicago. For generations it remained only a miserable collection of mud huts, with lots three miles deep that could be purchased for an old, broken-down horse, or a second-hand suit of clothes. When our Declaration of Independence was given to the world only three thousand people lived on these mud flats now built up with great structures. Then it began to grow slowly, until a half-century ago it had reached a population of seventy-five thousand. Its greatest growth, however, has been in the last twenty years. A quarter of a century ago there was only a flat mudbar along the waterfront of Buenos Aires. Ships were compelled to anchor several miles out in the river. Boxes, bales and passengers were conveyed ashore in lighters and row-boats. High-wheeled carts were then pushed out into the water so that passengers could land without getting wet. Plans for a system of docks were then prepared by an English engineer, which were completed at a cost of forty millions of dollars. Five great basins were constructed which extended along the river front for three miles. At that time, however, the tonnage of this port was less than a million. Now it has reached ten millions, and additional basins are absolutely necessary. A magnificent and commodious custom house is now being built at a cost of a million and a half of dollars to provide room for the large working force necessary to care for this immense export and import trade.

It is as a town of pleasure, however, that the native Argentinian loves to think of his capital. “Paris,” says he, “why, Paris and Buenos Aires should not be mentioned in the same breath.” In his opinion Buenos Aires has Paris beat to a “frazzle,” although that particular word has not yet entered his vocabulary. This is the feature of the city that almost any inhabitant will dwell upon whenever you meet him. In his opinion the theatres cannot be equalled. He will tell you of the Casino, where the best vaudeville acts of all Europe are played; and of La Escala, where the singers follow each other in melancholy procession, each one dressed in the same strapless bodice and stiff, bespangled skirt. One may sing in French, another in Italian and still another in Spanish, but each one wriggles her powdered shoulders and presses her hands to her heart in the same pathetic way. The men smoke and stare, seldom applauding, and the Argentine ladies—they give La Escala a wide berth.

“THEY FILE AROUND AND AROUND BETWEEN THE PALMS”

Then there is the Jockey Club, with an entrance fee and annual dues higher than any club in New York. Only native Argentinians can belong to it, although the diplomats and a few other favoured foreigners are given an honorary membership. There is an English Club which is rather an exclusive organization, and a German Club which occupies a fine new building. The Club de Residentes Estranjeros, or, as it is generally called, the Strangers’ Club, is the one that appeals most to the visitor, however, for a stranger will be given the courtesies of the club for one month upon a simple introduction by a member. There are at least fifty similar social organizations in Buenos Aires, for the Porteños are a hospitable and sociable people and love to mingle together socially. The races are held on Sunday afternoons from twelve o’clock to three. Outside the race track may be seen a long line of carriages and automobiles drawn up along the curb. The instant the races are over this line melts away and every vehicle wends its way toward beautiful Palermo Park, where, joined by hundreds of other similar vehicles, they file around and around between the palms and indulge themselves in the passion of staring at everyone else. At five o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, or on feast days, of which there are more than thirty in the course of a year, the crowds are at their greatest. The parade of vehicles is oftentimes three deep and would stretch out many miles if placed one behind the other in a straight line. There are no dark mantillas and no closed carriages to conceal the female occupants, and it is a sight for the men. It is a procession of human upholstery with expensive trappings, huge Parisian hats, expensive gowns and an abundance of cosmetics. Side by side with rich turnouts plated with silver and gold, magnificent horses and footmen as well as coachmen in rich livery, may be seen men just in from the Camp dressed in their less sophisticated clothes and riding in hired victorias, and the music-hall singers with their overdressed air and ravishing smiles, which they bestow with a generous freedom.

Calle Florida is the fashionable shopping street. In the late hours of the afternoon the street is crowded with the shoppers and idlers, and all traffic is excluded from the thoroughfare during those hours. Mamma and her daughters, Juanita and Carmencita, are out to look at the pretty things, the latter in their freshly starched skirts and bright-coloured ribbons. Others, who have no shopping to do, invent some excuse for being on Florida at that hour, and the young dandies stand on the corners, twirling moustaches that turn up at an angle of forty-five degrees and smoking the inevitable cigarette. When the witching hours of night have come the crowds again appear. Calles Florida, Cangallo, Esmeralda, Cuyo, Maipu and many others are brilliantly illuminated, for the theatres and cafés are in that section, as well as the best restaurants, and rathskellers, and these people certainly love to eat. There are many good restaurants, of which the Sportsman is probably the most popular. Here you may partake of almost any European dish—to say nothing of native ones. In addition to music a free moving picture show is provided. To obtain a seat at certain hours it is necessary to make arrangements beforehand, for diners linger long at the table. The meal usually begins with a dish of cold meats. Then comes a salad or the soup, together with the appetizers. Fish and three or four kinds of meat then follow, ending with a pastry or dulce (sweet) of some kind. It is surprising to see what a meal a thin Spaniard will put himself on the outside of, together with a choice assortment of liquors, and seem no worse for the effort.

During my visit the “Merry Widow” was being played in three different languages, French, Italian and Spanish, in as many different theatres. The Teatro Colon is the largest opera house in South America and the very best of opera is given there, a government subsidy being granted. There are few of the world’s great artists who have not appeared here at some time in their career. In no country in the world can better Italian opera be heard. It will seat thousands of people, and it is always a fashionably dressed audience. A thousand dollars for a season box is readily paid by the nabob of Buenos Aires. Low-necked gowns for the women and evening dress for the men predominate, and jewels by the peck may be seen sparkling all over the audience. Nowhere can wealth and beauty be seen in greater abundance.

There are almost as many Italians as those of Spanish birth in Buenos Aires. If all the Italians in the city were gathered together into one quarter they would make up a town as large as Genoa. Likewise the “Spaniards from Spain,” who now live in Buenos Aires, would populate a city larger than old Toledo. The British colony is probably next in numbers, with the German a close rival and France following in the rear. Americans do not cut much of a figure in numbers, for the North American Society, recently organized, had great difficulty in locating three hundred who claimed allegiance to the Stars and Stripes. And yet this small but enthusiastic body agreed to furnish a statue of George Washington, the father of liberty not only in our own land but in all the Americas, to be erected in that city. The city government has generously granted a site in one of the finest locations in the city. It will be a pleasure to future visitors from the United States to see the familiar likeness of our honoured hero gazing down at them with his benevolent manner in this Latin city.

Buenos Aires is very much unlike our American cities. In the first place there are no skyscrapers that lift their lofty roofs upward. The highest building does not exceed six or seven stories in height. Then there are miles upon miles of streets with buildings of one story predominating. It is laid out in rectangular blocks, averaging about four hundred feet on each side. The streets are narrow, and even in the residence sections they are generally built clear up to the street line. These narrow streets are a relic of the old days when this city was small and dormant. Narrow thoroughfares then meant shaded walks, but shade at that time was a more valuable asset than it is now in a hustling city. The principal business streets, such as Florida, Cuyo, Cangallo, Bartolomé Mitre, San Martin, 25th of May, etc., are only thirty-three feet wide, and you will wonder how the traffic is managed. It is done in this wise. Street cars and vehicles are only allowed to move one way. On the adjoining street they will move in the opposite direction. It is surprising how this plan helps to solve a serious problem of congestion. Cabs and automobiles dash along with seeming disregard of human life, and yet few accidents result. A uniformed policeman is stationed at each street intersection where traffic is congested, and assists in the protection of foot passengers and drivers. This police force made up of men with Indian blood in their veins impresses the visitor as most efficient. There is now a law in effect that no street shall be opened up in the future that is less than sixty feet in width.

“THE BROAD AND IMPOSING AVENIDA DE MAYO”

THE AVENIDA ALVEAR

There is one exception to the narrow streets, and that is the broad and imposing Avenida de Mayo, near the centre of the city. This street, with its wide pavements and rows of trees, lined on either side by hotels, fine stores and office buildings, reminds one of the famous avenues of Paris. The open-air cafés, which line the broad sidewalks of this avenue, only emphasize this resemblance and testify to the fact that the old-world spirit is still alive in Buenos Aires. At one end of the street is the Plaza de Mayo, at the far side of which is the government building in which are the administration offices; and at the other terminus, a mile away, is the Palace of Congress, which has just been completed after thirteen years of building, and at a cost of eight million dollars. With its great dome it gives a prospect very much like that of the Capitol at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington. The cross streets all begin and end at Calle Rivadavia, just one block from this avenue, for they have a different name on the two ends. One of the streets in the city is called Estados Unidos, which is the Spanish for United States. The Avenida Alvear, which leads out to Palermo, is another striking street. The mansions which line it are interspersed with gardens and plazas, and this broad avenue gains in beauty by this wealth of verdure and flowers.

The people of this southern metropolis may put off until “to-morrow” many things, after the manner of the Spanish people, but they do not idle to-day. Everywhere it is work, work, work, and the people earn their bread by the actual sweat of the brow. That is, all except the wealthy estancieros, or plantation owners, who became wealthy by the marvellous rise in the value of their lands. Many men bought a square league of pampa land fifteen or twenty years ago for a few thousand dollars, and it is now worth fifty dollars an acre. This enables them to live in Buenos Aires in idleness and comparative luxury. Greater opportunities, another climate and the virgin soil have instilled a new life into bodies and brains. It is a mingling of the spirit of the old world and the new which shapes the daily life of this city. The term “effete,” so often applied to Latin nations, and the “proverbial laziness” of Spaniard and Italian, so often referred to by writers, does not apply here. From the shipping sections where boats, barges and tugs throng in endless procession, from the flats on the river where hundreds of acres have been reclaimed in recent years, to the business section and the wide tree-planted avenues where the electric cars rush out into the residence section, the traveller will observe nothing but movement and effort, unceasing work and activity. In fact, were it not for the difference in architecture, a warmer shade in the complexion of the people, the sonorous consonants of the Castilian tongue, and the fact that the passer-by who jostles you never fails to lift his hat and apologize, the traveller might imagine himself in some unfamiliar part of New York or Philadelphia. There are the same workmen laying asphalt streets, the same gangs of builders and labourers tearing down buildings and laying foundations for great business structures, or demolishing rows of houses to make way for new avenues or squares. Everywhere the city is expanding. It already covers an area four times as large as Manhattan Island, three times larger than Berlin and more than twice that of Paris.

The Spanish people love the beautiful, and that same trait is observed in Argentina. There are many beautiful plazas in Buenos Aires, as well as several free public parks and gardens. In all there are seventy-two of these artistic recreation spaces where the “good airs” of the city can be enjoyed by the population. The finest park is magnificent Palmermo with its rich vegetation, which is a half-hour’s ride from the centre of the city. This park is a breathing-place and recreation-ground of which any city might be proud. Although it is below the tropics, yet some species of the palm thrive here, and the vegetation is more luxuriant and much different from that of the latitude of New York or Chicago. The principal sporting and play grounds are all near this park. Through it runs a broad boulevard which leads out to Belgrano, the fashionable suburb of the capital. In this suburb, as well as in the city proper, there are many magnificent private homes, which are veritable palaces. In the older part of the city the courtyard, or patio, so typical of Spanish architecture, may be seen. The glimpse of the foliage and blossom that it reveals is decidedly refreshing. In the later buildings, sad to say, the patio has disappeared, for the increased value of space seems to forbid this luxury. The network of bars at the windows has likewise vanished.

ONE OF THE PALATIAL HOMES OF BUENOS AIRES

The city offers a prize each year for the handsomest structure that is erected, the awarding of which is in the hands of a regularly organized commission. In addition to the reward, which goes to the architect, the owner is exempted from taxes for a certain period, and is reimbursed out of the city’s funds for whatever sums he has expended in creating a street front of artistic character. Buenos Aires owes very little of its beauty to nature. Lest some inharmonious advertising should mar the scene the municipality has taken control of all out-of-door display advertising. No poster can be placed on wall or fence unless it passes muster with the official in charge of this work. The height of a building must have a fixed relation to the width of the street, in order to preserve the light and air. Less than two decades ago the space occupied by the docks was a marshy strip of ground. Now a broad park called the Paseo Cristobal Colon (Columbus) has been laid out and planted with trees and shrubbery. Built upon a site with no natural beauty, so much more credit is due the landscape artists who have transformed this dreary spot.

The markets of Buenos Aires are interesting places to visit. The best hour to visit them is very early in the morning, for everything is astir at that time and all the supplies may be seen in their abundance. As early as four o’clock all is bustle and life. The throng is so great that it is oftentimes with difficulty that one can thread his way through the busy crowd of buyers, sellers and porters. The markets are not especially beautiful but they have a wholesome cleanliness. The most striking feature is the overflowing quantities of everything. Eggs are there by the thousands of dozens, vegetables by the van-load, meat by the ton and fruit by the car-load. The contents of a whole orchard may be seen at a glance. One could fill his house with the fine peaches and pears and scarcely see any diminution in the supply. These two fruits, together with the Mendoza grape, are the finest kinds. It used to be that one could buy a week’s supply of vegetables for a small sum, and meat for almost a song, but prices, except for meats, are now almost as high as in our own city markets. A noisy, bustling, motley crowd of people of all sizes and colours fill the aisles. Buxom cooks, pretty Italian girls and vendors with their enormous baskets jostle against each other. To watch the bantering is a source of endless amusement.

“COWS ARE BROUGHT TO THE DOOR”

“You are a thief, as every one knows,” says the market woman. “Oh, Señora, only an angel like you could say such things,” replies the merchant. And thus they go on passing similar compliments without either one losing his or her temper until a bargain is finally struck. The vendors, however, do not unduly urge, and apparently do not seem to care whether you buy or not. There seems to be no standard of value. In the late afternoon meat may be purchased very cheap, as the law requires all meat to be sold the same day on which it is killed. The butchers go out to the municipal slaughtering houses very early in the morning and kill as many animals as they think they can sell that day.

Those who do not find it convenient to come to the market are supplied by the vendors, who carry fruits and vegetables from door to door. Their supplies are carried in baskets which are suspended on poles swung across the shoulders. The air is filled with the cries of these picturesque peripatetic merchants, of the scissors-grinders and the dealer in notions, most of whom are Italians. In the morning and evening cows are brought to the door and milk drawn direct from nature’s reservoirs in any quantity desired. The tinkle of a bell is the herald of the milkman’s approach, and the doors open as the good housewife or maid appears with pitcher in hand. Donkey’s milk is also delivered in the same way, and its use is often preferred for the feeding of infants.

The capital of Argentina is more like an American city than any other city of South America. The architecture is entirely dissimilar, but the movement on the streets, the arrangement of the stores, and the general bearing of the people bears a marked resemblance. They like to be called the Yankees of South America, for that term signifies energy, resourcefulness and progressiveness. They are deserving of the term too. They are less strenuous than Americans, for they love holidays and enter heartily into the holiday spirit whenever the occasion permits. In that way they seem to get a great deal of pleasure out of life, perhaps more than many of our intensely absorbed, overworked business men.

THE RICOLETA CEMETERY

It is not a city one need hesitate to visit. All the creature comforts may be had. There are good physicians, good hospitals, good schools and the other advantages of populated centres in either the United States or Europe. There are no less than sixteen hospitals in the city, most of which are maintained either by the municipal or federal government. The British Hospital is an admirable institution, and is the one generally patronized by the Americans, for it has a staff of very able physicians. There are also numerous asylums for various unfortunates, foundlings’ homes, orphanages, etc., of a very high character. Electric street cars, which carried one hundred and twenty-five million passengers last year, run in every direction, and splendid trains convey passengers to almost every part of the republic. Carriages of all kinds and taxicabs remind one of New York and London. Hotels and restaurants abound on every hand. A visit to this southern metropolis opens one’s eyes to the fact that South America is forging ahead at a much more rapid pace than we have ever dreamed.

One of the finest cemeteries of the world is the Ricoleta Cemetery, the fashionable burying place of Buenos Aires. As one enters its appearance is that of a marble and granite city, with small palaces on either side, and narrow streets which are paved the same as the streets of a city. These small palaces are vaults within which the mortal remains of the departed are buried. They are of all sizes and conditions, from small to massive, and from the grand to the unpretentious. Some are the palaces of the rich and others the humble tenements of the poor. A few of these vaults contain hundreds of bodies. All have but one room that can be seen as you enter, and this room is rather furnished as a chapel of the dead, and is not, as a rule, very large. The entrance to the tomb is by a door almost at the level of the street. Sometimes a marble slab in this room may contain the sarcophagus of some distinguished member of the family, but in general this small room is only the entrance to the vault underneath, which contains the bodies. One will generally find this small room filled with flowers, real or artificial, and bouquets are oftentimes placed there at intervals of only a few days. The outside doors of this mausoleum are often of plate glass, furnished with locks, and many of them have lace curtains and gratings of iron curiously wrought. In the vault underneath the coffins are placed on shelves, one above another in niches which have been provided and then cemented in. Although this cemetery is not large it contains, so it is said, about two hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants.

One of the oddest customs in Buenos Aires is that relating to funerals and the burial of the dead. In this city funerals are great functions and the average burial is a very expensive affair. The undertakers advertise their business much as merchants advertise their dry goods. Each one will state how much more he will furnish for his money than his competitor, and praise the caskets which he will furnish and style in which he will conduct the funeral. These are provided in first, second and third class. A first-class funeral is a very imposing occasion. The hearses provided are the most ornate I have ever seen. They are always black, drawn by black horses, and the woodwork is made of carved ebony in very intricate design. Coachmen and footmen, both in the same sombre black livery, are provided, and many coaches follow the hearse, also provided with a coachman in mourning dress. Then again the newspapers will be filled with advertisements of families giving an invitation to their friends to be present at the funeral, also announcing the masses which are given from year to year on the anniversary of the funeral, and inviting their friends to be present at this solemn service. At the church servants will be posted at the door to receive the cards of those who go in, or those who send their regrets, the same as they would at any other social occasion. By scanning the papers the Argentinians keep track of the masses said for their friends. The Argentinians are very respectful toward funerals, and every one will reverently bare his head as a cortege passes by.

The expense of conducting the business of this great city runs into big figures. For the year 1909 the total sum was about thirty million dollars, but the resources were in excess of this amount. In addition to some property tax there are many special imposts, such as tax on advertising permits, building permits, slaughterhouses, markets, cemeteries, street cars, carriages, etc. The national lottery pays a certain proportion of its receipts into the municipal coffers, and the race courses also contribute. The liquor license is small, and as a result the number of such establishments where intoxicants are sold is very large, although saloons or bars after the American or English fashion are found only in the business districts. Lecherias, or milk shops, are very numerous, and thousands of gallons of milk are sold over the counters by the glass. Frozen milk takes the place of ice cream at these establishments, which are very neat and cleanly. The police force numbers nearly five thousand, or about one to every two hundred and forty persons. The fire department has numerous stations and is well organized. There are both a national and a municipal department of hygiene, which have control over all municipal sanitation. The efficient work of these organizations has brought down the death rate to where it will compare very favourably with the other large cities of the world.

The water supply and sewer system of the capital are likewise under the direction of the national government. Few cities of the world have a better service. The water is taken from the La Plata River far enough up to avoid any chance of pollution. It is obtained from wells which are driven beneath the bottom of the river, and the water is pumped through tunnels to a central station. Here it is filtered and then distributed to all sections of the city. The central reservoir, called the Aguas Corrientes, is in the heart of the city. With its imposing brick and terra cotta facing on every side, it looks like a magnificent palace, and so I thought it at first sight. Inside, however, it consists only of immense tanks from which the water gravitates over the city. This shell constructed for the water tanks cost the municipality almost a million dollars, and it is all done for the sole purpose of adding to the artistic beauty of the capital.