Rosario

There was nothing rosy about River Rosario, I think the Spanish settlers were like estate agents ,they gave the grandest sounding names to the most ordinary places . Perhaps it was the weather that coloured my opinion of it.
The skies were grey and overcast for days, although it was not very cold it had that feel of late autumn about it ,but we were well south of the Tropic of Capricorn. It was nearly Christmas , and ,as I write this, I am mindful that the events I am now relating occurred almost 48 years ago to the day. We docked the day before Christmas Eve, the workers were all over that ship like a rash, I have never seen cargo moved so fast, it was obvious the holiday was nigh. We were not a fridge boat and so would not be carrying the sides of beef and lambs that the Argentine was famous for,we would be carrying meat though??..canned meat. Rosario was full of meat packing plants,Vesteys practically owned the town and there were a few blue Star boats that we had passed ,the Cap Norte was in port too so we would be having a drink or two with the lads off her.
Most of the deck crowd went aboard the German vessel that night , the Cap Norte crew proved wonderful hosts ,there was plenty of good lager and lots of bratwurst and other sausages ,ideal ballast when you are having a serious drink. There was no unpleasantness, this was still only 15 year after the war, and we said we would return the honours when we got back to B.A.

Christmas Eve was not a holiday there, it had the feeling of being just another day , Two of the catering staff that I had befriended Sandy ,an Essex lad and a blonde guy from Newcastle ,whose name has slipped from memory, asked if I fancied having a look for a good time in downtown Rosario . ?Being Roman Catholics, these Argies will be having parties and we just might cop off ? reasoned Sandy. Seemed like a good idea to me and Geordie so that night ,which was cold, very cold, we had to wear our overcoats, we set off to find a good time. None of us had been there before and none of the other lads seemed to know much about the place either. We walked through the gloomy dockside ,past the various meat boats ,as we neared the dock gates we saw one of the biggest rats ever. It was the size of a Jack Russell terrier, it was scavenging on some piece of carrion and as we neared it ,it looked up from its feast and glared at us. We gave it a wide berth.
I had heard tales of the rats in meat ports ,we never saw any in Australia , here there were millions of them. I heard tales of the legendary fridge rats that some of the older hands swore existed. These creatures were said to live in the fridges of the meat boats and had developed thick white fur coats to beat the freezing temperatures ,is it legend? I never saw any.
We left the dock area expecting to see neon lights outside of sailor bars, all was in darkness. There seemed to be miles of 2 storey blocks of dwellings on the side facing the docks ,a set of train and tram lines ran the length of the road between the docks and the ?town?. We walked for ages ,as we passed the streets that led off the dock road ,we saw no signs of life down them either. The dwellings were in blocks of courtyards, no doors led off the street ,instead there were large gates into the courtyards and we could see some life through the windows that were visible within the courtyards.
The whole place was eerily quiet; were heard the sound of a tram coming down the road and agreed to get on it when it arrived. It was bound to pass through a town centre ,or near a lively place, we were such optimists.
The conductor looked at us as though we were visitors from outer space ,?Que pasa?? he asked ,?Centro , cerveza ,tango!? we replied ,handing him a wedge of peso?s for the fare. He shook his head and muttered something ,gave us our tickets and left us alone as he went to chat to the driver. We were the only people on board. The three of us stood on the platform scanning the streets as we sped by ,the road was long and straight and the side streets were a monotonous blur of greying murk ,not a bar sign anywhere. We came to a grinding halt at a terminus many miles from where we had embarked, we were now off the road that had run the length of the river and where there were still faceless blocks of dwellings. We did?nt have a clue where we were. But we were British seamen and we were determined to have a good time, there had to be some bars somewhere ,surely?
Walking away from the terminus looking for what now seemed like El dorado, we came upon 2 policemen who were on patrol. They looked like regular lifesavers to us. We went up to them and asked ?Hable Inglese?, The answered with a shake of the head. We must have looked despairing for one of them smiled and beckoned us to follow him. He led us to a police station , where he spoke to the guy on the desk who listened intently to what he said ,The man nodded and made a phone call. He chatted to someone on the line and then ,handed me the handset, saying ?Muy Oncle? His uncle. I said ?Hullo, hable Inglese?? A voice , thickened with much alcohol ,replied ?Mairee Crizmiz!? ?Do you speak English?? I asked again, ?Si, si. Izz Mairee Crizmiz Si?? After three such fruitless attempts ,we thanked the policemen and returned to the cold ,dark street. Heading in what we thought might be the right direction ,we came upon a Gents W.C.. It was a grand marble affair,
The ceiling about 12 foot high , bizarre, not the sort of thing you would expect in a suburban situation. As we were relieving ourselves I noticed on the wall next to the pissoir , the word ?Help?. I was astounded, where we near civilisation at last? A line was drawn upwards from the word and disappeared into the gloom near the ceiling. We could see some words at the top of the line but could?nt read them as they were too high .
Geordie being the strongest of the three of us bent down so that I could stand on his shoulders, Sandy giving him support ,I stood and read out the words at the top of the line???..?We?re lost too! ? I nearly fell off I was laughing so much.
We found our way back to the tramway and rode tiredly back to the docks. We had just learned the hard way that the Spanish celebrate the birth of infant Jesus in a much more reverent way than we British do.