Election Day escape

The returns are coming in, to the tune of "Stars and Stripes Forever." At least that was what was on the TV in the cafe where I had dinner. Argentina has no dearth of home-grown music. Were they trying to pin this election on America? I shall try not to read too much into it.

I headed out late in the morning and passed two polling places thronged with voters. I was going to El Tigre, which is described as a favorite weekend retreat for Portenos. (I don't know how to effect the tilde on my computer, but imagine it over the n, which would mean the word is pronounced "portenyo.") BA is on the river Plata and so the nickname derives from the city's function as a port. Further upriver, there is a huge delta where tributaries join the Plata. And it is on the islands of the delta where many have built vacation homes on stilts. It has always sounded intriguing. I love water, but prefer lakes and oceans to rivers generally.

It takes around an hour to get there, using two trains. The second train runs along the river past some rather tony suburbs. There is a bike and walking trail all along this leg, and, at one of the stations a sign pronounced, in elegant lettering: Bike & Coffee. Must have been a displaced Portlander.

The thing to do in El Tigre is to take a ride through the canals on a launch in order to get a feel for this watery community. The launch I took was named the "Realidad II." An odd name for a boat. It promised some sort of revelation it never quite delivered.

The houses, most of them on stilts, have electricity. But water comes from the river and thus must be filtered. They are reached only by boat, so there are gas stations/convenience stores you just float into.

There are several rowing clubs, with hapless rowers trying to outmaneuver the wakes generated by the many power boats on a thoroughfare narrower than the Williamette above the Sellwood Bridge. I felt for them. A high point of the tour was seeing a kayaker turn over and struggle to reboard his craft. I heard the Spanish-speaking guide say something about "man alone versus nature." Whatever. The river is quite brown. I felt for him.

The houses ranged from modest but tidy (most) to impressive (a very few) to markedly decaying (more than a few). Then an apparition appeared on the left bank: a magnificent stone edifice which would have been very at home in Vienna.

It was the Museo del Arte Tigre, a recently restored former casino. The incongruity of its site made me laugh, but I had to admire its grandeur, and and after the boat tour I walked to it, to be sure I had seen what I thought I had seen. It was there, and the grounds were charming.