Crossing the Line : Americans Who Commute From Baja Live Life in the Slow Lane

TIJUANA — Over cool beers on the beachside patio, with the waves breaking a short way off and the clouds rushing in overhead, Jo Lynne Gilpin is asked why she does it, why she puts up with the maddening commute across the border each morning, why she doesn’t just move back to the United States?

“And give up all this?” she responds, almost incredulous, her comment and accompanying gesture enclosing the nearby ocean and the invigorating sea air. “Where else could I find this?”

So it goes for the thousands of Americans who choose to live south of the U.S.-Mexican line, commuting to their jobs in San Diego and other areas across the border.

Willing to Adjust

Theirs is a vote for what they say is a superior--and far more affordable--life style, one that provides them an inexpensive alternative to what many view as a harried, not particularly attractive way of life to the north.

For this, they say, they are willing to fight the border traffic, live with the occasional bribe-seeking cops, and make other adjustments--such as living without telephones and daily mail (many have post office boxes in the United States), enduring the not-infrequent disruptions of water and electric service, and dealing calmly with potholes that would give rise to calls for congressional investigations in the United States. Some cope with not speaking the language, a fact that contributes to their somewhat insular existence here, although many are married to Spanish-speaking spouses.

Those who can’t hack the culture clash don’t remain long.

“I really don’t know which system is better,” admitted Richard Rosengreen, 27, who rents a one-bedroom apartment here with his Mexican-born wife in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood whose streets echo with the sound of children playing each evening. “Life’s a little slower here.”

The Americans’ presence in Tijuana is a sign of the unique mix that reigns along the border, an area where two cultures meet and often collide--but occasionally, and however improbably, seem to fit together just fine.

More than 40,000 U.S. citizens, many of them retirees, live in the states of Baja California and Baja California Sur, say U.S. authorities, who could not break down how many commute across the border to work.

“We are used to Americans living among us,” said Victor Clark Alfaro, a Mexican anthropologist in Tijuana who is a student of sorts of the border culture. “I think relations between Mexicans and the Americans living here are generally good.”

The legions of commuters are often forgotten among the highly publicized spats about contraband and illegal immigration that seem to dominate news of the international boundary. U.S. authorities say legal crossings at San Ysidro will top 40 million this year, including tourists. That means more than 100,000 people, the population of a good-size city, traverse the border there each day, making San Ysidro the world’s busiest port of entry.

Apart from U.S. citizens who reside in Baja California, there are many other categories of legal commuters. Among them are Mexicans who possess “green cards” enabling them to work in the United States, and Mexican residents who possess so-called “border-crossing” cards allowing them to cross for brief periods.

At the same time, many U.S. executives, engineers and others commute south to work in Tijuana’s booming industry of assembly plants owned jointly by U.S. and foreign interests.

If there is one major drawback to this somewhat schizophrenic existence, Americans here agree, it is the international crossing.

Delays often exceed an hour, and at times have topped several hours--although predicting the wait is a task that requires more than astrological consultation; things can be clear at rush hour and backed up at 3 a.m.

Conversations inevitably turn to the nuances of “The Line.” If you let it, residents warn, the line can begin to dominate your life, ruling how you come and go, dictating how you spend your free time, and generally making your life miserable.

“You just can never figure it,” said Rosengreen, a civilian employee of the U.S. Navy and a college student who has spent untold hours in the line. He now leaves his apartment at 5:45 a.m. each day to ensure that his wife is at her job in San Diego by 7 a.m. For a time, the couple were departing at 5 a.m., catching up on sleep in his truck once they were safely on the other side.

Despite the recent crackdown on contraband at the border, frequent crossers say the delays have, if anything, lessened of late, thanks to additional U.S. staffing. With traffic ever on the increase, however, it remains to be seen whether the improvement is a brief respite or a long-term change.

“We’re hoping to keep it down to a reasonable wait,” said Jerry Martin, port director for the U.S. Customs Service at San Ysidro, whose agents bear the brunt of the criticism from commuters irate that officials don’t keep more border booths open.

“Could they run it any more inefficiently?” asked Gilpin.

“We do the best we can,” according to Martin. “Of course, if we get hit by thousands of cars within an hour, there’s nothing we can do.”

But aside from that bothersome issue, Americans living here say they enjoy a simpler, less-frenzied life style that would cost many times more in the United States. A one-bedroom apartment here may rent for $150, compared with $450 or more in San Diego. Utility costs and home prices are also low, although Mexican law requires that foreigners in border areas lease property instead of buying it.

No matter. For those who love it, they wouldn’t live elsewhere. They are also unfazed by the fact that many Americans living here are themselves illegal aliens, residing without the required visas or other documents. But Mexican authorities, unlike their U.S. counterparts, are quite happy to welcome them--and their purchasing power--legal or not.

“You look out in the evening, you see the surf, the ocean, the setting sun. . . . It’s very peaceful, very tranquil,” said Bill Brown, who commutes to his job at a downtown San Diego health club via car and trolley. His home is in the beachside community of Baja Malibu, about 15 miles south of the border, one of a number of coastal communities favored by Americans.

“At home I have my fireplace. . . . I guess I don’t need a lot to keep me happy: my wife, the peace and quiet, the ocean, some fishing, some books, music.”

Brown, 61, an unflappable native of Massachusetts who hasn’t lost his New England accent, said he paid $7,600 for a small lot here 18 years ago, on which he put a trailer. Now he exults in the broad ocean view from his house, his simple patio and the small-town beach life style he leads, looking forward to his retirement, which starts this week.

“What would I pay for a house like this in San Diego?” asked Brown, whose comfortable home has one of the area’s ubiquitous TV satellites and is capable of bringing him his beloved Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins.

“I can survive anywhere,” said Brown, who has also lived in the Middle East. “All you have to do is smile and wave a dollar bill; they understand.”

Brown and other Americans here are accustomed to the reactions of shock from friends aghast that they are living in the Third World. Do you have running water? people want to know. Do you use an outhouse?

“They come down to Mexico and see trash along the road and dilapidated buildings, and they say, ‘How can you live this way?’ ” said Gilpin, 47, who runs a preschool in San Carlos and lives with her Mexican-born husband in a modern development where she purchased a one-bedroom home for $10,000 about four years ago. “We don’t live that way. . . . I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

As for crime, another major concern, many say they feel safer here than in the United States and often leave their doors unlocked. Brown recalls having two items, a surfboard and a bottle of rum, stolen from his home. The culprits were Americans, he said.

Several U.S. citizens acknowledged that they probably would not remain if they had small children, because they fear their English would suffer. Otherwise, returning to the north seems, for many, an unappetizing prospect.

“Go back?” said Barry Kohler, 45, who settled on a beachside lot here a year and a half ago.

Now, amid declining savings, he is grappling with the prospect of returning to the workplace and a more prosaic existence in the north.

“That’s a tough decision to have to make. That’s a tough one.”