Escape to the Sea

Countries sometimes wear their troubles more lightly than the statistics or the headlines indicate. In uneasy Argentina. the cost of living is up 58% this year, the peso down 60%. But it is summer in the Southern Hemisphere, and in Buenos Aires the days are blazing and the nights sticky. The place to get away to is Mar del Plata, Argentina's favorite Atlantic resort, 250 miles south, and last week the annual migration was in full swing.

As the tide of post-Christmas tourists rolled in, predictions were for a record 1,600,000 vacationers during the November-through-March season, more than enough to fill the city's five miles of beaches, 1,200 hotels and boardinghouses and scores of nightclubs. Some vacationers went south because they could not afford a European trip-- "conditions" being what they are. But most were working-class families determined not to forgo their one gala spree of the year.

They once were not welcome at Mar del Plata. In 1886, when the seashore city was first linked to Buenos Aires by rail, Argentina's cattle barons took a liking to the foaming, cool surf, and invited their rich friends to build summer homes.

They called it the "Pearl of the Atlantic." and, as it usually is with pearls, only the rich could afford it. After Dictator Juan D. Peron came to power in 1943, he turned over several fashionable hotels to labor unions and nationalized the huge gambling casino. From 320,000 visitors in 1939, the resort was soon drawing more than 1,000,000 each year.

When this season's tourists deflate their rubber balls, shut off their squawking transistor radios and return to the cities, they will leave behind more than $55 million spent on food, lodging and recreation. Included in the take will be an estimated $3,600,000 spent gambling at the world's biggest casino, stretching four blocks along the ocean, with room enough inside for 20,000 customers (Monte Carlo's capacity: 7,000). By U.S. standards, that may not be much money, but for the average Argentine worker, who makes less than $100 a month, throwing about $6 an evening at the casino is a real fling. Last week a textile executive looked up from the spinning roulette wheel and sighed: "We've had a terrible year. Workers want more money, everybody owes us bills. I'm only doing here what I have been doing all year--gambling and losing money."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.