Descanso en San Antonio de Areco

Fatigue from 2 weeks of dancing has set in. It is time to get out of Dodge. And all the savvy guidebooks imply that you really haven't seen Argentina until you've travelled as the Argentinians do -- on a double-decked, TV-outfitted, drinks-serving coche, complete with leather seats that recline fully, for those 36-hour jaunts to Mendoza.

I was going only to San Antonio de Areco, a bare 2 hours out of town, $15 round-trip, so we dispensed with the TV and the drinks. But the seats were sumptuous, and I felt, riding in the second story of this amazing conveyance, like a Maharani on her elephant. Drape me in silk and bejewel me. (Please.)

It took quite a while to get out of Buenos Aires. But at last we hit open road -- the fabled pampa. To my surprise, it looked a lot like Illinois -- verdant agricultural flatland punctuated by great stands of trees. Scratch one more exotic fantasy.

San Antonio de Areco, population 20,000, is the center of gaucho culture in Argentina. Its festival celebrating same happens next week and the town will be thronged by those wanting to see gaucho sports, dancing and parades. (Two of these involve horses.) But, for now, it is a tranquil place, filled with artisanal workshops making gaucho-related crafts -- silver, leather and weaving. And, for some reason, chocolate.

By American standards, this is a very low-key tourist attraction. It is quite in contrast to El Tigre. Signage is discreet and tasteful, Children go to school, sports are played, lives are led. It's the sort of place where dogs run free, and thus don't despoil the sidewalks, although any patch of grass is fair game. The odd sheep is let out to graze on the parkways. Tourism seems almost incidental. Yet there are more, and better, restaurants and shops than another town its size might boast.

My hotel, Paradores Draghi, is wonderful, a tiny inn attached to a silver workshop. Overnight is $43. (This is one reason tourists are flocking to Argentina.) I'm luxuriating in silky sheets and adequate toweling, the latter not a feature of my apartment. There is a small pool and fountain in the courtyard. Breakfast of croissants and jam is delivered to my door in the morning at 8:30. Sigh.

San Antonians ride bikes everywhere, and the hotel makes them available. So this morning I decided to take a spin myself. Many of you know that my relationship with bikes is tentative at best, since I didn't learn to ride as a child. Gary bought me my first bike shortly before I became pregnant with Pearson. But after hotel personnel reset the seat to a low and ridiculously inefficient height, I set out. The bikes are sturdy single-speeds with hand-brakes. Some of the roads are paved, some not, and there are no hills. I didn't really see anything I hadn't seen on foot. But somehow the interaction with the community felt different this way.

I've decided to stay a second night.