01.1 The Silverside Club

Seven opulent limousines of all-terrain rolled down the wrought iron gate and several other vans followed. A small crowd gathered on the other side of the road which otherwise would remain silent. It looked like a funeral. Two dozen figures in black robes and modesty veils climbed down the limos carrying handbags and purses. Their luggage arrived in the backup vans and carted to the comfy rooms hidden in the narrow corridors of the pavilion. None of these rooms mounted with a window. They booked six rooms to store their luggage and two more to do the ironing. This entire facility turned into a harem.

Nobody saw a face; they were covered in veils. Not even the PR revealed a face as she did registration at the front office desk with Elena and a pile of sky-blue Emirati passports.

Few months ago, a banker from Buenos Aires visited with a man called Idris. Andrés knew he was an Arab assuming on the type of garb he wore. José Lucero, a Senior Executive at the Rogers Bank, drove a Daytona 365 GTS4 – the spider version of the exotic Ferrari. Only a very rich man could own a car like that. Only a very few of the spiders were built; 120 at the most. Whether it was a vintage car or a replica, he couldn’t tell. Idris took an inspectional tour of the facility at the Silverside Club with the manager, Giovanni Pellufa; they call John – an unruly Sicilian but a fishing geek.

The history of this beautiful spa dates back to a century. In 1909, the Fiorito Family from Italy settled in Quilmes and founded the company of Balneario Quilmes SA. They built a recreational park on the Quilmeña coast on the water mirror of the Río de la Plata. Work began in 1911; construction of the first spa in the Argentine Republic. In 1917, the open-air sound cinema was inaugurated on the promenade. In 1927, the structure of the saltwater pools was raised with more than four hundred individual changing rooms.

On 2^nd July 1938, the Silverside Club de Quilmes was founded, renting a sector on the rambla. In 1968, this company purchased the entire property from the Fioritos.

Today, this club consists of a 3-hectare property with open and sheltered barbeque areas, children’s play zone and other gaming depots, two saltwater pools and a pier that extends 613 metres over the river. The pool sector with its unique splendour remains a preserved area and she maintains the beauty of a place from another era that still amazes visitors. A culinary complex now stands on the promenade of the rambla accessible from the pier. Recently, under a hidden plan, some of those changing rooms have been converted to hold 40 luxurious studio rooms. Very few have rented them. Generally, this club caters for the fishing afficionados in the area. This property has a parking lot for more than a hundred cars behind the gate on Avenida Cervantes – facing Avenida Isidoro Iriarte. The Ribera de Quilmes has been the setting of a glorious time but today, it is extremely impacted by urban growth and environmental degradation.

Andrés was relieved of the work they waged. Few weeks ago, he picked a fax of a fax that originated in KSA and forwarded from the Rogers Bank. It was written in English and he noticed a line that read, “A screen should be raised beside the guest tables at Los Mariscos and a fence should stand to cover the entire view of the spa and the rambla to the merge of the restaurant.” Andrés was not too fluent in English however another line still demanded that the club should be closed for public. He shrugged at that point and climbed the stairs to the manager’s office to deliver the message.

He peeped out of a window at the feisty crowd of anglers lined up on the pier, excited about catching pejerreyes found abundantly in the cold waters around the South American coasts – some call it the Poor Man’s Meal. In its native Argentine waters, these silver fish grow 11 inches long; an excellent food fish and easy to catch. Seeing those anglers, he understood closing the club was merely impossible.

“Perché!” growled the manager and his shoulders went straight up to hit the ceiling, “We can put up a fence, eh! Andrés! We put a screen around every table if he wants!”

“But you cannot close the fishing club!” Andrés uttered in attribution.

“Only two weeks, eh!” said the manager picking up the phone. He called the banker to confirm this booking, “No porco! No vino!”

The guests settled in their rooms and it was quiet once again when the limos pulled out. Things returned to normal. First meal of the day was set at sunset – that was breakfast. These folks were observing a holy month of fasting. Then there were three supplementary meals in between breakfast and supper – fifth and final meal set for four in the morning just before sunrise.

As the afternoon light cast down on the esplanade, he caught a vision of the very first movement of the shadowy figures, draped in black, crossing the piazza swiftly like a cluster of ghosts. And they were gone. Andrés rolled his eyes over the metal fence trying to catch a glimpse when he heard a hiss behind.

“Psst!” That woman drew his attention like someone calling a dog.

“Me?” uttered Andrés vacantly, unsure whether it was a contact call for he could see no such contact of the eye or even an expression on her face.

“Walad!” she stood partially hidden behind the fence erected in the middle of the pier to block the view of the swimming pools and the rambla.

As Andrés turned up behind the fence, he saw a number of black forms ambling on the rambla under the trees and the lights just turned on. That woman gestured him to go on and he said, “After you, señora!”

She motioned him to go ahead and she followed a few steps behind towards the spa. Again, she insisted him to climb the steps and she followed behind. There was nobody near the pools or on the piazza. It was eerily quiet. Salmon pink walls and tall lamp posts painted white to the balustrade. Each post holding a globe lit in warm orange lights. At the far end, he reached the access hall to the staircase. She gestured him to climb down and she followed behind. Reaching Room 333, she glanced up and down the corridor sneakily and tapped on the door.

A whiff of an exotic fragrance filled his lungs as soon as the door came open. A lady poked a covered head and called him to get in. Andrés went in. There were two other women seated on a couch and one standing beside a furniture piece. All very pink, decorated in the Rococo style and quite congested in the little cubicle. The lady in a sapphire blue attire standing there began to talk.

“Jeune homme!”

“Yes ma’am!” he stood very still.

“Comment t’appelles-tu?”

“Qué!”

She lifted the yashmak over her face. That was an incredibly beautiful woman with piercing grey eyes. “I am Marina. What is your name?” she asked with a considerable French accent.

“Andrés,” he said knowing that the two women on the couch lifted their veils too.

“Can you do me a faveur, Andrés?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Get me beer, Heineken, coke, soda and sprite. Wines, Côtes du Rhône, Bourdeux, anything rouge.”

“Ma’am! May I note it down!”

“Write down, good idea,” she turned to pick a piece of paper and a pen, “French red wine. And Hennessy Cognac,” she wrote.

Andrés explained, “Imported products are available at the fresh market.”

“I can only consume imported liquor. You go to the market in a taxi and bring them to my room in a bag.” She gave him a thousand American dollars.

“Sí señora!”

Andrés returned after their breakfast. She told him to keep the balance.

After breakfast, some of those visitors began to move about, to stroll in the Ribera de Quilmes. Some lingered at the bower known as the Pérgola del Balneario de Quilmes. All the parks and the roads fell silent at the hour.