An hour’s journey north from the heart of Buenos Aires brought us to a place that just as easily may have been on the other side of the earth.  Gone were the miles of pavement and blaring of taxi horns.  In their place were the infinite waterways of the Tigre delta.  Raw gasoline fumes drifted through the humid air and the loud rumble of the water taxi’s vibrated under the soles of our feet as we stepped onboard. 

Instead of the overtly advertised tourist cruise, we queued up with a line of locals waiting for their river bus home that afternoon.  They piled their necessities onto the roof of the long polished wood boat; crates of eggs, jugs of drinking water, school supplies, and cartons of cigarettes all in a well practiced chaotic balance.  Kids in public school uniforms that resembled a cross between a doctor’s lab coat and a smock greeted the driver and huddled in groups for the ride home; a dynamic not unlike any other school bus.  As we wound our way further up the veiny outcrops of the delta we passed other families rowing home, four to a canoe; we tooted hello to precariously overloaded tugs ferrying logs; and saluted mothers and grandmothers waiting at the end of rickety wooden piers for the afternoon school bus to deliver their children home.  As the driver swung the boat up to each dock for no more than one or two seconds, we watched as the elderly and the young alike alighted from our water cruise with the balance of seasoned sailors and fishermen. 

Eventually, with shaking legs and trepidatious steps, we got off at the pier for Tres Bocas, our island oasis for the afternoon.  We sauntered down sidewalks lining residential waterways too small for the bus, and snapped covert photos of passing peoples motoring or rowing to and from home.   Under a trellis of draping green vines, we sat at white plastic tables where we drank cold Quilmes out of styrofoam coolers and ate a lunch of milanese.  A grey-brown cat trailed round our feet, and local dogs napped in the shade beneath our table.  The scratchy sound of delta blues tunes swayed us into a timeless daze.  Here, an hour from Buenos Aires life couldn’t be more different, but it couldn’t be any better either.