Reporting from Rosarito Beach, Mexico — Bob and Carol Dawson love living in Baja California, but the region's violent reputation has put them on the defensive. They have been called delusional and reckless -- all because they choose to live in an oceanfront gated community about 30 or 40 miles and a world away from the U.S. border.
Americans living in this part of Mexico are often grilled, half-jokingly, about their sanity. They get asked whether they've seen decapitated heads rolling down the street. Friends wonder whether they wear bulletproof vests or drive around in armored cars.
When the Dawsons moved here in 1999 to retire, they were enticed by the area's charm and peacefulness. They bought an expansive home with ocean views for $175,000. "Live like a millionaire without a million bucks" is the local real estate mantra.
In recent years, the tranquillity has been eclipsed by the mayhem of battles between the Mexican government and organized crime. Military trucks brimming with heavily armed soldiers have rumbled through the manicured grounds of luxury developments; gunmen pepper local police stations with automatic-weapon fire; and Baja California's most notorious crime boss once eluded authorities by running through a beach popular among American retirees.
Since 2008, more than 1,000 Mexicans in the northern Baja California area have died in the drug violence. Rarely does a week go by without news of another person being beheaded or dissolved in acid or chopped up and left in a parked car.
But for most expatriates the violence seems as distant as headlines from Iraq. Along the 70-mile stretch of coastline from Tijuana to Ensenada, 14,000 Americans live in a bubble of relative security, many in gated developments or high-rise condominiums where they run a greater risk of being sideswiped by a golf cart or a wave-tossed surfer than staring down an AK-47-toting drug trafficker.
Not that expatriates are oblivious to the drug war. Bill Kirchhoff, the former city manager of Redondo Beach, said he suspects that some of the boaters speeding by his seaside house at Playa La Mision are drug traffickers. He's not moving back to the States any time soon, though, saying a few precautions can keep people out of harm's way.
"A lot of people simply don't understand the level of danger that exists in this kind of environment," he said. "But if you're aware of it, you can manage it to a great extent."
Bob Dawson, 66, said the dangers are exaggerated, but shares a pioneer attitude. "We're a different kind of breed even to try this," he said.
From the balcony of their home one row back from the ocean, the Dawsons can see dolphins dancing in the waves and pelicans gliding low over the surf break. Carol keeps watch for the first signs of migrating whales; Bob pours his locally famous margarita mix -- dubbed Bobby-Ritas -- for neighbors.
They just don't get many visitors.
Loved ones beg them to move and many won't visit, including their son-in-law, who for much of the last few years has refused to bring their grandsons to visit. "He thinks we live in a dream world," said Carol, 65. "But if I feared danger to my life, I wouldn't be here."
The curving, craggy coastline of northern Baja California, a one-hour drive from San Diego, was once a popular getaway for Southern California residents. They came for the solitude and the surf. They would unwind at gringo bars and spend weekends at funky beachfront hotels.
In recent years, the coastal stretch has taken on an upscale look with condominiums, spacious homes, bed-and-breakfasts, and spas rising on bluffs. In the nearby Guadalupe Valley, hacienda-style inns and wineries sit amid vineyards blanketing the tawny hills.
The area attracts a range of Americans. Young telecommuters and Internet entrepreneurs live alongside artists and urban refugees in hillside villages. Retirees enjoy five-star luxury resorts with vanishing-edge pools, private beaches and shuttle service to the border.
For less than $300,000, people can buy a spacious home on an 18-hole golf course at Baja Mar. Ocean-view houses with balconies and gardens can be had for $400,000.
"Look at this. I can't live in La Jolla like this," Richard Cargill, 66, said as he took in the ocean views from his deck at the Palacio Del Mar resort. The retired mortgage banker paid $490,000 for the 2,300-square-foot condominium one year ago. "I call this the smart man's San Diego."
For the Dawsons, the appeal was an early retirement. Bob, who used to own a paper packaging company, and Carol, a former flight attendant, cut their expenses 30% when they moved down from Santa Ana. They live in the Las Gaviotas development about six miles south of Rosarito Beach, where 298 homes sit behind high walls and visitors must pass through a gate manned 24 hours a day by security guards. There's a clubhouse, a pool, tennis courts and a promenade lined with mini-mansions that overlook the palapa-dotted beach.
