Capricorn Sun

In half the hemisphere it was summer, the hottest in years. Millions of latinos, turning away from rumors of political plots and the facts of economic crises, splurged on record-breaking holidays. The rich, kept from Manhattan and Europe by foreign-exchange restrictions, went to the home resorts. The new industrial classes, their pockets packed with inflated currencies, plunged into the pleasures of unaccustomed leisure. In such seaside capitals as Rio and Montevideo, even the underprivileged poor had a chance to play on world-famous beaches.

At Santiago, in sight of Andean glaciers, the temperature hit 92° one day last week. That day, 17,540 Chileans rode trains from the capital’s hot streets to beaches, lakes, mountains. In buses chartered by sports clubs, other sweating thousands rattled off for a day’s dip in the chill Pacific, just two hours away at San Antonio. The luckiest Chileans, including President Gabriel González Videla, lolled in the luxury of Vina del Mar, where they improved their tans on white crescent beaches, on yacht decks, or on the balconies of flower-girt villas.

At Viña last week, only 30 U.S. tourists took the sun. Distance and travel difficulties were barring most yanquis from the pleasures of the southern summer. Instead, they were pouring into Mexico at the rate of 20,000 a month, and spilling over into Guatemala.

No Slacks. At an even greater rate, Argentines were pouring into Mar del Plata, the Atlantic City of the south. With 300,000 vacationists jamming its villas and 671 hotels, it had become for the season Argentina’s third city. The renowned Hector y Su Jazz played nightly to capacity crowds at the world’s largest casino. Beachgoers dined on steaks two inches thick, tangoed to a new tune called El Cafetin de Buenos Aires, then wound up their day with a fling at roulette. Though nowadays only waiters and casino attendants dressed after dark, much of the-old Argentine formality persisted. Most sedate of all were the descamisados, who packed the half-dozen big government-owned hotels. They seldom danced, the women never wore slacks.

For those who liked informality, there was Uruguay’s cosmopolitan Punta del Este, where everybody wore slacks or bright bathing suits. Few Argentines could afford Uruguayan vacation rates any more (about $50 a day in inflated Argentine pesos), but Brazilians, who turned to Uruguay’s casinos after their own were outlawed in 1946, partly made up for the absent visitors from the south.

No Panties. In Brazil itself, Rio’s granfinos passed up the beaches for the cool mountain resorts of Petropolis and Teresopolis. Some Sao Paulo industrialists were different. They rolled down to Rio for a few weeks’ fun on beaches, golf courses, race tracks. On Rio’s shanty-shingled hillsides, purse-poor cariocas practiced carnival sambas every evening. The catchiest tune of the moment was no samba but a daffy little marcha parodying the United Fruit Co.’s singing commercial (Chiquita Banana) and titled Chiquita Bacana (Hot Baby)

Hot baby

From Martinique way,

She wears only the skin

Of a yellow banana.

She doesn’t wear a dress,

She doesn’t wear panties;

Winter for her

Is full summer.

She’s an existentialist

And make no mistake,

Since she only does

What her heart commands.