Life of Hardin Vol. IV, No. 18

The Club at the End of My Street

There are many things to do in Asunción, if you like to buy bootleg movies or sunglasses, drink strong coffee, or stare out of your back window at the haze as it rolls in off the Paraguay River. But after those two days are spent, you must find other attractions if you plan to stay longer.

You must do as the Paraguayans do, and that is to join a club.

Asunción has a variety of clubs, including but not limited to tennis clubs, gun clubs, boating clubs, exercise clubs, soccer clubs, and the like. Many of them are multi-purpose and offer a variety of available activities. The German club--where they speak Spanish--has an Olympic-sized pool, a gym, a boxing ring, a bowling alley, and a soccer field. The Yacht club has no yachts to speak of, but only launches and a few sailboats of a middling size. It also has a pool, tennis courts, and a golf course. The restaurant offers a wide view of the fiberglass dinghies as they sit in dry dock.

The king of all Paraguayan clubs is Rakiura. It has all these things mentioned above and more, except for the dinghies. It has three pools, a wave pool, and water slides. It hosts dog shows and professional tennis tournaments. My sister visited this club and refers to it as Hawaii. But that is misleading, and confuses me often, since Rakiura has no volcanoes.

The thing in common between each of these clubs is their insistence on the presence of gate security. They all have guards at the door. The job of these men is to smile and wave through anyone who smiles and waves back. I do not see how I can join any club that allows the riff-raff, such as myself, to come and go as they please.

One club I have not yet mentioned--the one club to which I would like to gain entrance so as to bring about its ruin--is located just across from my apartment building. This is Club Rowing. But they do not row. They are landlocked. They have one wading pool, which has never been filled with more water than it collects from a good rain.

They have a basketball court, which is used to host political rallies and debates. When I say political rallies, I mean fights. They begin in the morning. A crowd of people parks itself in the street so that no cars can move. A brass band begins to play music at around 8 a.m. They continue until about 5 p.m. when the debate begins. The police arrive in riot gear around 6 p.m. The debate ends at 7, and then the fight begins. It is a fine way to conduct politics. Everyone has their fair say and throws their share of punches. Then they all go home tired and happy with the disagreement settled.

What Club Rowing needs is a doorman to keep their members in. It displeases me when their little club meetings block my door. I prefer, in regard to their politics, to remain like Switzerland: completely neutral. But when I run over a few constituents on my way to the garage, they invariably believe I have taken sides. They threaten me with brickbats and beer bottles.

The last time this happened I planned to fill several balloons with cold water, carry them to the roof, and hurl them down upon the throng. Alas, by the time I took my shower, sat down and rested, it was too cold outside and I was too tired to go to the effort. I regret that I did not take pains to carry through the plan. On the next occasion I will start my own club to see it through, and, as president, will make sure that all members fulfill their duties.