By Mary Jordan
Washington Post Foreign Service

AJIJIC, Mexico -- Just past the Gringo Grill on the lone road into Ajijic stands a banner that reads, in English: "Welcome to your new home."

About 7,500 people from the United States have taken that sign to heart and carved out a little America in and around this fishing village on Lake Chapala, so now
there are about as many Chryslers with Virginia license plates as there are burros hauling hay. And this is just one of the gringo-heavy towns around here. About
50,000 Americans live in the Guadalajara region, which includes the resort city of Puerta Vallarta.

Enticed by sweet weather and less expensive living -- taxes on a $150,000 house here run about $60 a year, and the same house would cost double in Washington
-- year-round residents from the United States have filled the towns around Lake Chapala, trading life up North for the easy rhythms of central Mexico and making
up one of the world's most concentrated colonies of U.S. citizens living abroad.

Americans are everywhere, from Tokyo to Ouagadougou, but the expatriate communities in most foreign lands tend to be spread out and account for a fraction of
the local population, particularly in large cities such as London or Paris. But here in Ajijic (pronounced ah-hee-HEEK), a village of 14,000 people and two stoplights,
the mayor's office reckons that more than one in three residents are from the United States or Canada. Many are former government workers, veterans and other
retirees -- people like Virginia Balon, a retired CIA secretary from Virginia, or Ellie Moyer, who for 28 years managed Millie and Al's restaurant in Adams-Morgan.

"What am I going to do at my age? I could go back and keep working like Strom Thurmond, or live here in paradise," said Balon, 73, who used to spend her winters
scraping ice off her windshield in Centreville and slogging through traffic to CIA headquarters in Langley.

Balon now pays $450 a month for a pretty apartment on hill overlooking the lake. She said the same quarters would cost four times as much in a similar setting in San
Diego or some other retiree haven. Unlike most Americans here, she is trying to learn Spanish.

"And I like living overseas," she said. "I would be bored in Houston."

Americans have been settling in Mexico since World War II, but in recent years they have been coming in droves. The U.S. Embassy in Mexico City estimates that
upwards of 600,000 Americans live in Mexico, including some people with dual nationality.

It is impossible to count the Americans here accurately because many simply drive their cars across the border and set up a new life without leaving much of a paper
trail. Further complicating the count of permanent residents are the swarms of Americans who come just for the winter.

"A lot of Americans think it's sophisticated to go to Europe, that Mexico is their poor neighbor; they are wrong. For one thing, there are a lot of rich Mexicans," said
Frank Cunzio, a 75-year-old transplanted New Yorker. "There are a lot of misconceptions in the States about Mexico. People here are cordial, family-oriented.
They smile more. You think someone in New York who got $6 a day for hauling 60 pounds of concrete up a hill all day long would be smiling?"

Cunzio's reason for moving was simple: "I couldn't take New York anymore."

"In the United States, if you tell your grandkids to stop jumping on the furniture they can take you to court," said Cunzio, a wiry character who walks through town in
shorts and tennis shoes.

"I don't miss anything -- except you can't get decent prosciutto or salami here," he said, dialing into the Internet from the computer on his kitchen table for his daily fix
of American sports; he had money on Baltimore in the Super Bowl.

Americans who live here are quick to point out that it is not free. U.S. retirees still have to pay U.S. taxes on their pensions. Airfare home to visit family is expensive,
and houses can still run $250,000 or more. Real estate and utility prices are rising even as the lake is drying up and getting more polluted. And although people say
they feel safer in Ajijic than in big U.S. cities, there have been a few violent crimes, including a pair of double murders of Americans in the last two years.

Ajijic is a rare blend of American and Mexican culture and language. Amused Mexican residents talk about how their American neighbors organize themselves for
every possible activity, from gardening classes to Saturday morning walking clubs. The Americans shake their heads at Mexicans' love of fireworks and at the
irregularity of public services.

The Lake Chapala Society, headed by a teacher from New Hampshire, has 20,000 books in English. The art community mixes American and Mexican styles. There
is an English-language theater. The Super Lake market has rye bread, an item that is difficult to find in Mexico, and every kind of Betty Crocker cake mix.

"Twenty-five years ago there were no telephones here. You never forgot you were in Mexico. Now it is easy to," said Wayne Palfrey, formerly of Alexandria, who is
the principal of the local bilingual Oak Hill school.

As more and more Americans, and increasingly Canadians, settle here, restaurant menus have begun shifting from enchiladas to waffles at breakfast. Outside Donas
Donuts one recent morning, all 10 cars in the parking lot had U.S. license plates. The discussion among the Americans inside -- and they were almost all Americans
-- ranged from who had the best satellite TV reception to President Clinton's last-minute pardons.

Down the road at Evie's, another morning hangout, several Americans stopped by for a cup of coffee, including Clifford Green, who used to work at a Tysons
Corner auto dealership, and his wife, Jo Ann, a former Capitol Hill staffer.

"It isn't like we're at the other end of the world," said Clifford Green, who moved here 10 years ago from a house near the Manassas battlefield. He said that in 30
minutes, he can be at the airport in Guadalajara -- Mexico's second largest city, 30 miles to the north -- and "We can go anywhere planes can go."

Like many who have taken up residence, he vacationed here a few times before deciding to move permanently, charmed by the politeness of the people and the pace
of life. "Everyone comes as a stranger, but they tend to be the kind of people who introduce themselves," Green said. "I met a former Fairfax County policeman here
just talking to the guy at the next table."

The median age of U.S. residents here has been dropping as people retire younger, and some working-age folks live here and conduct business on the Internet or
commute to the United States. Still, there is no mistaking the silver tinge to towns like Ajijic.

Officials at the U.S. Consulate in Guadalajara say one of their major interactions with the American community around Lake Chapala is arranging the return of bodies
to the United States. On average, about five Americans a week die in Mexico, they say.

The anonymity of living in a foreign country has livened up some of the conversations and living arrangements. Several residents mentioned that amorous liaisons
among older folks are easier far from the prying eyes of friends and family back home. "If you are lucky enough to make a hit, you go for it, don't have to hide from
the family," said one.

Then there are "border promotions" -- sudden inflation of one's life and accomplishments. "A sergeant suddenly becomes a captain here," said Vera Egle, a nurse
from Cumberland, Md.

Egle said she would not trade her Mexican life, where she lives in a stunning home with a blue tile pool and papaya trees. She said her loyalty to Mexico is due in part
to the medical care her husband, who died in 1999, received while suffering from cancer. Egle recalls that on one particularly bad day, the doctor came to their home
four times.

Others simply enjoy the sunshine or golf or tennis near the newly paved streets named Jimmy Connors and Rod Laver.

"No one is in hurry," said Cunzio, the New Yorker. "There is just a lot less malarkey, a lot less aggravation here."

                                                   © 2001