Here's a view of Bahia de Los Angeles from the hills.  The town stretches loosely over a few bays, mostly concentrated in the area of the picture.  A dirt road goes for miles up and down the jagged coast.

And just up the dirt road, behind this gate,

is El Gringo Locoville.  Roby and I approached through the beach, so we didn't see the gate blocking the entrance.  We walked around for a minute, gawking at the sudden abundance of SUVs and barred windows, when an American poked his head out from under the hood of his car and said with a jerk in his tone, "Hey, can I help you?" Roby answered, "Naw, just cruising", and the guy responded "Well buddy, you're cruising on private property."  I asked if we could walk to the main road through a path and he said no, we'd have to leave through the gate.   Looking around at the massive rocky hills in the distance and the barren bay below, and being in this desert that demands human cooperation, it seemed ridiculous that anyone could or would forcibly remove anyone from anywhere, but alas.   Typically, the first asshole we meet in Mexico is a fucking American.

Looks like the chief American export to Mexico is No Trespassing signs,

as well as quirky financing schemes (I have no idea what a "99 year bank trust" means).  It's a missionary zeal of a slightly different sort.  Somehow, the native locals are so damn nice it's almost depressing.   They don't smile on greeting like Americans do, but as soon as they talk to you they smile wide and clean, and will help you any way they can.  You hear stories of people breaking down on the side of the road and having whole engine rebuilds on the spot for nothing or $5.  As our neighbor put it, a Mexican will give you 60 cents of the only dollar he has.  The whole American myth of the thieving Mexican is either totally groundless or it's a person I havn't yet met.   And the Mexicans are obviously aware of the American suspicion of them, since they're always showing you the cash register numbers and going to lengths to explain the price for each item, but still their good natures shine through.

It's a very depressing thought what happens to these people when they cross the boarder to America.  Oh the joys of a dishwashing job and general disdain.  And I'm sure they know how these gringos would treat them if the shoe were on the other foot, but I havn't detected the slightest trace of bitterness.  I wonder how well their good natures will endure once American corporate culture finally catches hold here and they all have to flip burgers at the local Tacos R Us.