I'm convinced now than ever that Baja is one of the choicest places in the world to drop off the face of the earth (if ya need to). It's such an outback for thirsty adventurers and there is a sense of lawlessness (yet simple secureness) that makes it ideal for the great escape. Even if I wasn't looking to fully disappear, the layout of the peninsula and the vibe of Baja as a whole is just perfectly remote and fiercly primitive (yet somehow all wi-fi connected) and makes me happy as a clam.

After leaving the Central region (before you leave, you must try some nieve in Mulege. It's a dairy free ice cream that is the most delicious treat I've ever tasted), we're finally headed back to the States, which means back to work. (Making TV shows doesn't feel like work, especially in magical places like Mexico. Post production, on the other hand, is insane).

I'm torn between sheer and utter delight (I cannot wait to have some mayonaisse slathered all over everything) and a feeling of deep longing. The enigmatic people up and down the pristine coasts and the tiny villages we've encountered have stamped themselves into our systems and we're having a hard time re-entering reality and there's a general feeling floating through the truck of just wanting to ditch it all and head straight back to paradise.

After passing through Northern Baja (much like the valleys of Napa in Northern California, with juicy oranges, deep, luscious wines, and pots of gooey honey) on the way to the Tecate border (the secret, most desirable border to cross), I'm just trying to get a stronger handle on everything thats flyin' through my head. More long winters in Chicago? Nah...I'm thinking I might need to buy that rustic little palapa in Bahia Concepcion (we shot the opening of the show here and just tore up and down Highway 1, looking to track some expats) and kayak, sail and snorkel all winter long. See ya!!!!

One of the cleanest marine bay systems in the whole world, Bahia Concepcion is the ultimate wonderland for expats living on the cheap. A protected bay, this is the place to really disappear in forever. (The closest big village is Mulege, just a little bit to the North.)

After we left Eco-Mundo (at Km 111, Playa Escondida, and if you go, remember that they have the best peanut butter and jelly sandwichs on whole grain ever), we stopped off at Playa Santispac (Km 114) for one more hit of fish tacos at Ana's Restaurant. Not only have we finally relaxed into pure oblivion (we were a mere tape away from being done with the show), we're finally headed home. (That always sends a shiver of delight up my spine. I'm the type who loves leaving and then, loves going home...really, just a double-edged sword because all I really ever long for is to be on the road, heading somewhere...that's where I find true peace.)

Ana's is one of the best restaurants we've run across in Baja and her crispy fish tacos are legend up and down the bay (we also fell in love with the juicy coconut fried shrimp at Bertha's, just a few stops south). After a mighty stiff margarita, I get one more burst of wild energy and decide to walk over to the rustic palapas that line the waterfront, to see who I can find. On the way to check out one that had a for sale sign posted in the restaurant (3 bedrooms, directly on the water for 28k), I'm charmed into a play-date by a little five-year-old cutie-pie named Chance. It was if he' been waiting all day on me to happen by and once he had me, it was best friends forever. We just connected right at the heart of it all.

Wrapping his little paw around my finger, Chance took me on a grand tour of his house (the biggest palapa on the waterfront) and of course, we started with his toy box. He showed me dead "herminent crabs" (he was so devastated that someone could kill a tiny hermit crab; I could smother him he was so freakin' cute) and introduced me to his best pal, curly-headed Billy Bird (her folks place was awesome; totally solar and right on the edge of the water). I watched as he waded into the Sea of Cortez to retrieve an errant piece of litter and I just laughed as he raced ahead of the camera girl as she was trying to scoot ahead of us to film us walking and holding hands (literally, she almost tripped and dropped the camera, he was so fast). As I sat chatting with his mom (retired at 40 due to a Southern California real estate boom, she and her husband spend part of the year in Baja, just chilling with their babies and livin' the good life on a dime), Chance raced up to present me with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers (a dried out sprig of weed in a coca-cola bottle with little rocks on the bottom). That sealed the deal; we were buds forever.

SIDE NOTE: Living in Playa Santispac is the way to go. You get a raw palapa for $7 per day (see photos of palapa and then, view from palapa) and you can then build away on it (or you could just camp under it). The view is of the ever-changing crystal-blue shades of the ocean, the lifestyle is clean and pure, and Ana's Restaurant is in your backyard. This secret place is a complete gem and the hardest one for us to leave behind. I'll be back, though; it's the kind of village that haunts you 'til you do.

Craggy and remote Bahia Concepcion is officially my favorite place in all of Baja. It's the exact location I long for while sitting behind a computer in the feezing cold of winter in Chicago, wondering where I could escape to that's cheap, gorgeous, and feels like paradise. It's replete with colorful expats, excited kayakers (this is one of the best places to kayak in the world), rugged sailors, dream seekers and various budget-friendly options for living situations. (You can rent a palapa in Santispac for $7 per day and then lease it if you want to, build off of the original palapa and for very little cash, you have a home right on the heavenly Sea of Cortez. More on that in the next entry.)

Here is where the SUV's loaded down with kayaks come out. Every which way I turn, there is someone living out of their truck, just taking advantage of the free camping the beaches offer, the fantastic sport fishing, the trail-blazin' hiking, the calm waters of the bay, the delicious fish tacos and of course, the potent margaritas. I just wonder why this place is so off the map? Nobody that I know who travels has ever mentioned it. In fact, very few folks choose Baja over mainland Mexico, possibly due to it's wilder, more rough-hewn reputation. That's good, though. Keep the place light and lean.

At Eco Mundo (the eco-friendly palapa style haven smack on the Sea of Cortez), the owners, Greg and Tracy, have welcomed our crew and shown us around their charming home and the palapas (thatched roof huts) they rent out for $22 per night (it's even cheaper to camp under the stars). They just moved down in December, when they bought the place after a stroke of luck came flying their way. A hardcore outdoorsy couple (they offer kayaking rentals and lessons, too), they are the epitome of the young dreamers.

After listening to their wonderful story, my entire crew is stricken with envy and happiness for them. They define the ultimate expat to me; a young couple that happened onto utopia, saw a once-in-a-lifetime-chance and snapped it up, even though they had very little cash to start with (Tracy says she was working three jobs back in the states and came down with only $40 left in her bank account). The conviction behind their voices when they say they have absolutely no regrets is enough to make a person believe that anything is possible. Plus, I fell in love with their playful puppy Monk and wanted to just snatch her up and bring her back with me.

After the sultry heat of the desert of La Ventana and the wonderful crispness of the air in Todos Santos, we're finally feeling like we have most of our show in the can and have headed north back toward Eco Mundo and the most haunting part of Baja, Bahia Conception. Eco Mundo is a small hotel that we'd discovered (and camped out at) on the Sea of Cortez on the way down and the charming young owners, Greg and Tracy, are going to let us film them and their beautiful slice of paradise on our way back up toward the border.

So sadly, after a full day of filming, we had to force ourselves to leave the incredible village of Todos Santos (my favorite place in Baja so far...and trust me, I've traipsed this entire peninsula). We'd literally tracked down every expat we could find and sorry to letcha know, we'd found that there were very few Americans around. Maybe it was the wrong day for doing business there.

The few we did accost were hysterical. A couple of guys (one with a torn shirt on a motorbike and one with a walrus mustache on foot) were just hanging out, shootin' the breeze, when I spied them from around the bend. We made a direct beeline (I practically ran) for them and discovered that one of them lived in his truck. Perfect. That is the exact kind of story that makes for good TV and he actually gave me a tour of his little brown truck, parked just across the street. Happily, I hopped in, laid on his bed (as he held the gate up), tossed on his cowboy hat, twirled his roll of toilet paper and listened to him tell me how he lives in his truck half the time and then house sits for very wealthy Americans the rest of the time. He makes under $20 per day with that job, but he lives for free (with DSL, swimming pools and satallite TV) and when he's chillin' in his truck (he calls it George), he wakes up to the crashing waves of the Pacific every day. That's a life, indeed. (Of course, my primary concern was where did he go poo?) He had it all laid out, though, with plots and plans, so no worries there.

The other fella gave me a quick ride on his motorbike (almost wiping out several times just going around the block) and told me that everyone comes to Todos looking for bohemia and it just doesn't exist there anymore (please see look on my face in photo where Ian is divulging this said intel). I felt the funky vibe, though; hell, the guy living in his truck was a bohemian if I've ever seen one.

After a week spent in dreamy and windy La Ventana, we have a huge hunk of our show shot and it's time to head further south. After dropping our DP, Janine Menlove, off at the airport in Cabo (where we shot a little establishing footage of the infamous "Gringo Hill," ) we headed back up north to Todos Santos (50 miles north of Cabo).

I'd heard about Todos Santos for years and got wind that it was "an expats dream town," and "the best little village in Baja." After what we'd seen on the way down in Bahia Conception and in La Ventana, it was difficult for me to believe that this town could trump those two, but as I soon found out, the critics usually rave for a reason. Todos Santos is by far one of the coolest villages in Baja. A tiny town tucked into the mountains and about 2 km from the Pacific, the weather is some of the best on the peninsula (tropical and temperate during the day but still manages to chill down enough to use a wood burning fireplace at night; which means flowers everywhere).

We rolled into town at dusk and after the hell of Cabo San Lucas (imagine Vegas on the coast), all we could think about was a meal that had nothing to do with beans, rice or tacos. As much as we'd been enjoying the cuisine of Baja, I feel like we hadn't had a real fruit or vegetable in weeks. We checked into a cute hotel smack in the middle of town ($30 per night) and wandered up and down the charming streets searching for a place to eat, and much to my surprise, the town was loaded with options. Organic farmers, trailblazin' expats and quirky escape artists have turned this town into a true dining destination for foodies and road weary travelers alike. We ended up at the super-cute Cafe Todos Santos and immediately met a couple that used to work as makeup artists in film (in LA) and ended up coming here years ago to open a B & B (this is the work of choice, it seems), just steps from the Pacific. They convinced us that the meal at the American-owned cafe would be delicious and just what we were hunting for (the owner picks most of the veggies from his own organic garden) and we ordered like crazy; bubbly grilled cheese with roasted peppers on artisan sour dough bread, a vegetarian Italian-style sandwich, topped fresh mozzarella and toasted, and Lisa (one of the Producers) had the most incredible looking Philly cheese steak sandwich. Everything came with the most delicious potato salad I've ever had and we realized that though we love hard-core Mexican food, a simple meal of vegetables, bread and cheese sometimes takes the cake (the side order of chewy, honey oatmeal cookies didn't hurt).

The plan was to shoot all day the next day and we were happy as geese to be in a new environment, with a new crop of expats (these guys are clearly searching for something different than just the solitude and vastness of the beach) to question. Todos is loaded with art galleries, yoga classes, organic restarants, internet cafes, cute coffee shops and a newly opened wine bar. It's the bohemian chic part of Baja, whereas it's still a tiny village with dirt roads, but on the few paved streets, the vibe is quite hip. I love it.

AWESOME HIGHLIGHTS:

+On the way down, we passed over the Tropic of Cancer and just the visual of the sign made us feel as if we were in the South Pacific and on an extreme adventure. Plus, I had finally put on a pair of jeans and was delighted to have a shower. (In La Ventana, when your're chillin' on the beach, showers seem to fall by the wayside and it's all about the ocean, the wind and the next margarita. Very easy lifestyle to get used to.)

+The locals in La Ventana gave us an insider tip and made sure to tell us to use the cut-across road, so instead of traipsing all the way back up to La Paz to hit Highway 1, we could just use this tiny road to cut back toward Cabo and Highway 1, and knock an hour off our trip while doing so. What I didn't realize was that it was going to be a gravelly dirt road the whole way and with a 2-wheel drive truck, that made for slow going (and added over an hour to our trip). It was awesome, though, because the remote valley was laden with shimmering palm trees right in the midst of prickly cactus, making it tropical and desert all in the same place, and this was truly the Baja outback.

Every corner we turn in La Ventana, there is another "gringo" telling us their story. They run the gamut from "I left it all behind and I'll never go back to the stress," to "I just live here part time for now, but I'm trying to make it full time." The common theme is that everyone (well, almost everyone) is attempting to leave their life behind in the USA and make the permanant move south of the border. The primary question to everyone I meet has been, "How much does it all cost?" The answers and scenarios vary far and wide and here are some options and inspiring stories for expats to be.

+Larry: After buying a small piece of land perched on a cliff that slopes down directly into the Sea of Cortez (for all of $40,000), he is trying to move down to La Ventana full time to build houses. He's got a company back home called Gorge Built and he's attempting to do the same thing in Baja (called Baja Built, of course). His goal is to create simple, custom-made houses, live in them while he is building them and then sell them to his friends that also attempting to make the trek southbound. Right now, he lives in a mobile home (with an outdoor shower) on his georgous little plot and kiteboards most of the day, races his old motorbike up and down the one main street that plows through town, eats dollar shrimp tacos, watches the moon rise, is teaching himself Spanish (and working on getting Mexican citizenship) and bases his schedule on the wind, the moon and the stars.

+Norm: After getting into an car accident months ago, cowboy Norm is standing by waiting on his insurance money to come through so he can make it back up North to see his girlfriend. As they say in Mexico, everything is manana...but I feel like Norm doesn't mind the wait. When we barrelled up his "driveway" to film his place, Norm was parked on a dusty old chair under a tree (his living room) eating some icy cold, dripping-with-juice watermelon. His view was a 180 of the Sea of Cortez, his miniscule motorhome was clean and tidy but had a couple of flats (that thing ain't going nowhere), his shower was built outside the motorhome and was quite large and his means of transportation was an old rickety golf cart. Happy as a clam, Norm is living for free on Federal land and when intruders try to come and set up camp beside him, he usually tells them, "Oh, someone is coming back to that spot in a week. And that one and that one and that one." Smart cookie, that Norm.

+Cynthia and Kent: Kent made a tidy profit after selling his software company a few years back and Cynthia is the chica that rocks out on the kite board (they say she is one of the top three in La Ventana). They happen to have two places in Baja. THe first is an in-the-works compound on the Sea of Cortez, which features a small building as a media room (they shoot and edit commericals for small Mexican businesses) and another cute building that is their bedroom and bathroom. Kiting all day, riding ATV's, trying to be creative in paradise, managing two homes (The other is in a place called San Lucas del Cabo, just outside of Cabo San Lucas. It's an airstream trailer with a palapa build over it, has multiple dogs trekking the grounds, and is blessed with incredible views of the Pacific. The surfers, and the locals, call this area "Gringo Hill".)

+Bill and Yen: We met these two while having shrimp tacos (the best I've ever had) at the tiny taco stand in town. Yen was a delightful little creature from Vietnam and her husband Bill had shining eyes that lit up every time she entertained the table with one of her funny, animated stories. Down here for the kiting, they live in a motorhome on a primo spot of the local campground. For about $3 per day, anyone can set up shop with tents, SUV's, motorhomes or whatever sort of homemade hut you want to build. The Sea of Cortez is about 15' away and the deal can't really be beat. Again, they're here for the wind (which is the reason for my last how to entry on Kite Boarding at Baja Joe's).

+Brian: The sweetest guy ever, Brian (a CPA from California) is building a house on the sea (just down from Baja Joe's). He paid $200k (one of the most expensive that we've heard about) for the lot and the beautiful palapa and is currently renovating the place so it can become his full time home. Not only did he let us come and film him in La Paz taking Spanish lessons, he gave us a tour of his soon-to-be-finished house and introduced us to the world of living in La Ventana. Right now, he lives in a small room at Baja Joe's  (he also built Baja Joe's website and wired the place for total wi-fi and high speed DSL) while his place is completed. He's terrified that all of the available land will be bought up by hotels and resorts in the future, but for now he is safe; no one seems to have the good word on this secret, remote village yet.

The island across the way is for sale for $35 million, though, but when you can live for a few bucks a day with the same view, who needs a whole island?

Kite boarding is one of the reasons that Baja Joe's is such a popular place. Not only do devout boarders swarm to La Ventana from around the world, most of them move into Angie and Joe's charming bungalows for the majority of the season and create a communal hot spot of extreme adventure & cerveza swilling madness (all in a fantastic, I-wish-I-could-be-part-of-this-forever-way).

All week, I've been dreading my kite boarding lesson from Joe. Not because I didn't want to learn (it really is an incredible sport), but because I'm blind as a bat and horrified that I'd merrily hop in the water, suddenly make one false move on the board and then, my contacts would be ripped out; I'd not be able to see a thing and just be thrashing frantically about the waves and preparing to drown, while the crowd just stood by and watched the crew film the entire scenario.

Somehow I gathered the courage to let Joe give me a lesson, though (Little secret: professing my terror to Joe and Angie, they informed me that in my one-on-one lesson I would be using a tiny kiddie kite and that I'd be parked on the sand for the entire time). Oh, well hell. After watching all of the tough-as-nails chicks get on the water all week (and literally do stunts that propelled them 15+' in the air), I could get ripped around by a friggin' kite kiddie kite on the beach (the only danger I really faced was scalding my little tootsies in the blazing hot sand).

Joe was the ultimate teacher, never making fun of me and constantly encouraging me to just take it easy (much like the race car driving I do, I tend to get a little wild and crazy with sports, thinking that I've got it all down pat, when really, I'm just competetive as hell and a master faker outer). After watching a half hour video on the sport, he whipped out my pretty little orange trainer kite (I was sorta embarassed at my inital fear at this point), laid it out, and showed me the ropes. Making it look so easy (Joe is a master kite boarder), I quickly ripped it out of his hands, confident that I could fly the thing and be prepped and ready to rock out on the windy water in a short matter of time. No such luck; I'd downed the kite within a minute or two and swallowed my pride as it drug me across the sand (I could see Janine, my DP, quivering with laughter behind her camera as she watched my bootie hit the ground time and time again).

Determined to get it right, I demanded that Joe (somehow, just as patient as ever) show me one more time. Finally, after about half an hour, I realized that I am supposed to handle it not as if I am steering a car (right and left bobbing motions), but as if I am pulling it into me (slow and steady). Joe's most frequently uttered phrase during my lesson? "Just bring 'er up to neutral, there ya go." What a wimp I am (neutral is for folks who have no control over the kite). Of course, the one thing that I was terrified of, I ended up loving the most (see photo of me looking goofy, estactic and on the verge of taking flight, please) and did eventually make it for awhile without dragging the kite to the ground.

Meanwhile, after my humiliating lesson, all the crew tried it and were champs within minutes. I credit that to the fact that they were able to watch me and learn for an hour, not because they have any special skills or anything.  I can see why the expats trek to this village and have a hard time leaving, though.  The wind is fierce, the sport is addicitve and the place is cheap and beautiful to boot.  Sold.

It’s funny the way things happen in Baja. Here I am driving along, shooting some beautiful B-roll footage of the village (the tiny circus with ancient animals was a real treat) and out of nowhere, I decide the crew needs to be treated to some icy cold margaritas at the local bar in La Ventana. While we're there, we decide to film a small segment of the show; just snapshots of me chillin’ with the local Mexicans and we'll try to capture some of the funny language barriers that occur.  (Don`t worry, I am the designated driver all the way back to Baja Joe`s...about 1/4 mile away.)

As I roar into the parking area for the deserted bar, which has the most incredible view of the Sea of Cortez, I move the truck a little too powerfully (since I’ve been tearing up and down Highway 1, I’ve gotten a little slap-happy behind the wheel), and before ya know it, my rear tires have sunk deep into the sand and I’m stuck. Awwwww, bloody hell.

Before I could even get out of dusty truck to assess the situation, a swarm of cute Mexicans have come from outta nowhere and are gesturing and motioning wildly for us to all exit the vehicle. Of course, we get the camera and mic’s turned on immediately. As the bold (and charming) owner of the bar hops into my drivers seat, everyone stands back as he puts the truck into reverse and guns it. We all just stand by and watch helplessly he rips the tires half a foot deeper into the soft, white sand. Double bloody hell.

As everyone ponders a moment on what to do, a gigantic truck tears up from the rear of the building and a young Mexican lad hops out wielding chains. Moving quick as lightening, he has the whole rear of my truck chained to his in a split second. In his heroic attempt to pull me out, deeper the truck goes into the sand. Mucho gracis, though.

Next, he gets in his truck and pulls as me and the whole team of Mexicans (we’re at about nine people now) push as hard as we can to get the truck to move. Of course, nothing happens. I’m sorta terrified that the whole underbelly of the truck is going to be ripped out, but I just blabber on with my own innocent words of wisdom, “Oh no, what do we do now, guys?”

As they keep trying different maneuvers on the truck, an eccentric American named Norm joins us. (Norm looks a bit like Willie Nelson, cowboy hat and all, and lives in a tiny trailer up the hill, taking advantage of free Federal land and sweeping views of the ocean). He's shaking his head and rambling on and on about how everyone is doing it wrong and I’m like, “Well, jeez Norm, how ‘bout saying something to them?” Before he can utter a word, a small chunk of splintery wood has been wedged under the tire, and me (and my new amigos) are mightily pushing the truck backward and out of the sand. Whoops and hollers go up all around and the owner of the bar gently scoots my truck into a firmer location. As we all roll inside for a much-deserved margarita, the crowd disperses as if they were never there and I’m left just kickin’ it with Norm and the pool-playing locals.

I feel like if that situation had happened back home, I would have gotten nothing but horns blowing, birds flipping and folks screaming for me to get out of the way. See, the Mexicans and their friendly, laid back nature are a big reason that the folks from the USA come to Baja. As the Americans who live in Baja  put it:  "When an American starts a business in Mexico (not too difficult to do and the government really encourages it), they have to hire Mexicans to do the labor. So, in other words, the Mexican government wants us to come and start businesses, as long as we hire local Mexicans to do the labor. It works out good for us, because we can live in paradise for way less than in the USA, own our own business, and hire labor at a cheaper rate. The Mexicans are happy, too, as they have a good job and get to provide for thier family." The Mexicans are the hardest workers I've ever seen and their natually happy demeanor might be due to the fact that in Mexico, there doesn't seem to be a giant clock ticking over their shoulder.  It's looking like a win-win to me.

Shoot Day 1:

After an early call time, we set out to get some establishing shots of La Ventana and Baja Joe's. We wanted to get those out of the way up front because later in the day we're headed back into La Paz (really, the only place that you can go on a major grocery shop) to get the makings for a huge spaghetti dinner. To keep with the theme of our past shows, my crew and I are going to whip up for dinner for the locals. (On our last show, Stuffed, we did the same thing at the end of our 10-day shoot in Yelapa, Mexico.) Cooking dinner for the locals is just a cool way to give back and it seems to relax everyone a little bit, getting them prepped for the camera being in their face all week long. Plus, it lets us check out who the characters are, how they interact with each other and what story lines are starting to develop. And, I've found that a couple pitchers of margaritas never hurts the converstation (what a job we all have, huh?).

The tiny town of La Ventana (population 300, but when kite boarding season rolls around, it can swell into the thousands) is perched directly on the brilliantly blue Sea of Cortez. The folks that roll into here come for the wind and we happen to be here in the off-season, which is perfect, because we want to capture the people that live here year-round, not just the sporty guys and girls that come for a few weeks in the windy season.

Just by hanging out in the communal kitchen of Baja Joe's (literally, you could spit and hit the ocean), we've met Brian (a transplant from California who's building a palapa a few lots down from Joe's and is staying in a room here while he builds), Kent and Cynthia (a super-awesome, epitome-of-a-kiteboarding-couple that has a place further south in Baja on Gringo Hill and are still working on their place near Joe's), Mike (a year-rounder in La Ventana who already has a place built a little further north from Joe's), Mike Doyle (a world-famous surfing champion who chills at Joe's and also has a world-class surf school near Cabo, which we'll hit later in the week), Tonya (a lovely creature who is in the process of selling everything she owns in Colorado and is moving down here full time to build her health food store) and Dos (a I-was-once-drafted-by-the-Cubs, full-time resident of Baja Joe's).

Joe's seems to be command central for anything and everything that's going on in town and Joe and Angie (the humble, gregarious owners) handle all of the comings and goings with the grace and ease of proud parents. Their enchanting compound is made of about 20 rooms, all strategically positioned to have optimum views of the palm trees and ocean. From my balcony, I can see teems of shockingly bright kites sailing in the wind and Cynthia (one of the most rockin' chicks on the board) is out doing crazy stunts on the water. There really isn't a soul down here that doesn't kite (from kids to retirees) and I'm super excited for my lesson that Joe is going to give me later in the week.

Establishing shots are easy and painless and a perfect way to start the week of filming that we'll be doing here. We grab signage, beauty, kiters, my truck rolling down the highway (with tires squealing out, of course), and me interacting with the locals. Easy stuff to get and time for the trip into La Paz.

Temperature: 85 and perfect, thanks!

Getting to La Ventana is a harrowing, mind-boggling experience. I usually have a deep-seeded, built-in compass and can find my way around any foreign city, and you'd think that a thin peninsula with only one main highway would be a cinch for me to figure out. Not so! Once I roared out of the desert and cruised through La Paz (the capitol of Baha South), trying to find Highway 1 again was like a mad maze of chaos. Nobody spoke a lick of English and most of the narrow streets were one way, all headed in the wrong direction. The locals were so smiling and friendly, though, offering scattered hand gestures of advice, pointing in all different (and wrong) directions.

See, from La Paz, we were supposed to hop onto Highway 286, just south of the city. Easier said than done. Hours seemed to pass as I asked every sweaty jogger, happy couple, and flirty construction worker where the heck 286 was. Finally, after millions of illegal U-turns and some wild stroke of luck, I cut down a side dirt road and was magically blazing down right path to our next shooting location.

Once we cruised out of La Paz (meanwhile, yet another crew member violently ill), the desert heat started to peel off of us and I knew we were on the right track. To be an expat out here, you have to have some major, there's-no-looking-back guts. This is no-mans land (anywhere off Highway 1 is terrifically remote and would take a true pioneer spirit to penetrate it) and the heat-stroke-inducing trek was well worth the over 3,500-mile (that's just one-way, kids) journey.

Pulling into the small village of La Ventana, we rolled into Baja Joe's and found a tiny oasis in the middle of nowhere...smack on the gorgeous Sea of Cortez. Even though it was just getting dark, I knew it was the perfect location (remember, we had no tech scout to prep us) for the main segment of the show. Discreetly lit with glowing lights, with the ocean lapping gently in the background, really the only thing to do was get used to being on Mexican time and have a icy-cold blended margarita (they really do taste different in Mexico).

Usually for a film shoot, we do what is referred to as a tech scout. This allows the production team the time to check out all of the locations, develop stories, and make sure we have everything that we need for the shoot. In the case of "Tracking Expats," we didn't have the luxury of a tech scout, so we went into filming a little blindly. Driving from Chicago to the tip of Baja, I knew the expats would be everywhere, so I wasn't too concerned about it.

Before I left Chicago, I'd found a perfect place where expats are setting up shop, Baja Joe's, in La Ventana. It's a kite surfing mecca based on the windiest part of the Sea of Cortez, so I knew there would be awesome, adventuresome stories once we got there. But, on the ride down Highway 1 and the various stop overs in Mulege and Loreto, I'd assumed there would be many compelling expats living the good life. What I found though was quite different.

There are many Americans living and creating in Baja. But, what has happened, is they've set up camp and are living just like they would in America and in turn, the town they set up in has altered to cater to the Americans and their needs. The villages no longer feel Mexican; they feel American, with a Mexican flair. It's just not quite the story line that I want to develop. I want the Americans that are really roughing it. The one's that have taken the real plunge and given it all up to set up shop in a totally foreign village, off the beaten path. This is the real paradise and the hardest place to call home.

Though lovely, we didn't find many stories in the Northern part of the Sea of Cortez, but once we started heading a little further south, the stories started popping up everywhere. Interestingly enough, some of the Americans don't like to call themselves expats, so a theme has been integrated into the show, almost by mistake. I'm really getting to the root of what an expat is and asking every American that I see how they define "expat." The answers that come out are truly bizarre.

AWESOME HIGHLIGHTS:

+In Mulege, I met a writer named Beto who was living in his pop-up VW van. He wandered through the tiny village with me to show me fresh manta ray drying in the sun. It had been caught, slivered very thin and laid out on drying racks in the blazing sun. Once dried, it was sold to the town restaurants and they usually chop it us and toss it into eggs. Covered in flies, I will not be eating much of that dish, no matter where I go. {Also, Beto told me that when you go into a restaurant and order sea scallops, and they come out gigantic and equal in size and shape, usually it's shark fin. They catch the shark, then take a cookie cutter and cut out "sea scallops" from its fin. That's just plain gross.}

+Once we hit Bahia Conception, the real beauty of Baja starts to come out. Though the desert is breathtaking and wild in its own right, no place in the world can compare to the visuals of Bahia Conception. This is the sort of place that will make you forget there ever was a life back in the States.

Leaving the touristy city of Ensenada behind, we did manage to hit El Rosario before sundown. The route there is like a snapshot from "Land of the Lost". Sweeping mountain ranges that look as if they've never been seen by humans bleed into tidy vineyards that look like they we're transplanted straight from Tuscany (Baja produces some of Mexicos finest wine). There are no pitstops for us along the way, though. Well, except for some delicious fish tacos (80 cents apiece) in Ensenada. This port town has rows and rows of taco stands; all with super-savvy, cute proprieters placed in front, trying to woo you in with their sweet talk.

Side note: Though there are many American's in Ensenada, they're not the kind I'm tracking. These are the types that pour off the gigantic cruise ships, shop for the day and are then herded back onto the boat for the trip further South to the TOTALLY Americanized celebrity haunt of Cabo San Lucas.

After a lovely night of deep sleep in El Rosario (and some of the best beans, rice and tortillas I've ever had at the famous roadside Mexican restaurant, Mama Espinosa's), we make up for lost time on the road, taking advantage of the lawlessness of Mexico. Even though I fly past several policemen on the way to Mulege (the first town along the Sea of Cortez that starts to feel tropical), they all seem to be flying just as fast as I am, laughing all the way (such pearly white teeth these folks have).

Oh, and the way you have to get creative when you don't have the typical tools used in filming. Instead of a process trailer, a helicopter or a car mount, I've propped my camera girl on top of all of our camping gear and opened the back window of the SUV. Diving about 10 miles an hour (cars were roaring past us at about a hundred miles an hour in the desert land), we got some awesome footage of the winding Highway 1, with trucks chugging up the steep inclines and wild stallions littering the highway.

Rolling into Mulege around 6 p.m., it's easy to see why the expats flock here. Palm trees, loaded down moho's (all with kayaks and surf boards) and charming restaurants all mingle with the colorful locals and their simple way of life. The town has tons of hotels, one-way streets and bars, but to be on the safe side, we head to the outskirts of town, to the lovely little hotel Cuesta Real. This is our last night in a hotel for the next week (camping on the Sea of Cortez starts tomorrow night), and with off-the-beaten-track hotels like this, you never know who you'll run into.

After three grueling days on the road (from Chicago to LA) that were chock full of delays and setbacks (torrential downpours in the deserts of New Mexico, violently ill crew members, and miles of super-slow construction zones), we finally crossed the border into Tijuana from San Diego.

The truck is packed to the gills with camping gear (Moosejaw), camera and sound equipment (all hidden in every available bag, with the blacked-out DV tapes tucked into different packs…you know, just in case they’re confiscated, we’re covered), and my crazy mate (Argentinean black tea) fueled energy. After drinking this stuff, I could literally take flight and that sort of energy is vital for a film shoot like this (you just don’t know where you’ll end up when you’re tracking expats).

When crossing the border from San Diego (goodbye, America) into Tijuana (hello, I’m suddenly terrified), I’m immediately met with the sickening realization that there is no turning back and the magical Baja I’ve read about in magazines isn’t quite what I’m seeing. Just as my little truck inches toward the border patrol station, screaming thoughts like “Oh my God, what have I done and are we all going to die in a back alley in Mexico?” are raging through my skull. I keep my cool though for the sake of the girls; there’s no need putting the fear of God into them as well…I’m sure they’re already quivering in their boots.

Side note: Getting past the guards and their vicious dogs is easy; they just want to know where you’re headed (paradise) and how long your staying (‘til ya find me, sucka)!

Once through the border (be prepared to wait at least an hour) we start tentatively weaving our way through the maze of roads, just trying to find a sign pointing to anywhere but here. Since I’m driving, I just gun it and pray for the best. Looking around, it’s easy to see that Tijuana is by far one of the biggest dumps on earth. With unorganized, winding highways, ghetto shantytowns built on every square inch of land and bright splashes of graffiti art on every wall available, all there is to do is suck it up, put the metal to the metal, crank the stereo and praise the Lord that we’re headed due South (trust me, there ain’t no sign of paradise here).

Just past the border, there are two highways to choose from. In the dead panic to keep up with the faster-than-lightening speed of the other cars, I’ve already torn past the free road (the Old Highway 1) and have no other option but to take the toll road (less than $10). Highway 1-D (the toll road) ends just North of Ensenada (69 miles from Tijuana) and turns into Highway 1. It’s an uneventful ride (the saving grace is faint whispers of the Pacific between the cliffs) and Ensenada is where the Transpeninsular Highway plows dead South until you hit the tiny village of El Rosario.

The goal for today is to hit El Rosario before sundown and then onto the magical Sea of Cortez where adventurous expats abound. Since we’re shooting loads of B-roll on the way, it might be tough, but there is a small motel in El Rosario that has one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in for just $30 bucks a night. After this in-the-middle-of-nowhere pit stop, Highway 1 gets bold and turns southeast, taking us into one of the wildest, emptiest deserts in the world. I’ve got to remember; every single time we pass a Pemex (the only gas stations in Baja), FILL UP. We don’t want to be broke down in this desert.

Awesome Highlights:

+Riding out of the sea level section of Tijuana, we start climbing a steep mountain leading to who knows what and as we round the final corner, the truck is practically spit out onto the mighty Pacific, with gigantic, foaming waves rolling into the cliffside. Simply breathtaking and much needed after the horrors of Tijuana.

+Just getting through the intimidating border; even though I know I’ve done nothing illegal, there’s something about the 40’ walls capped with barbed wire, growling dogs trained to kill and machine gun toting border guards that makes me dig all the skeletons up out of my closet, just to make sure they were indeed properly buried in the first place.

I'm certain that same soul-awakening phrase rolls through everyone's head a time or two (or 20) throughout the day. Usually it filters in right about the time you come back from your lunch break and plop back down in your tiny, gray cubicle...stuffed to the gills and slightly comatose from another cheeseburger and french-fried carb-fest replete with the same 'ole boring lunchtime chatter.

After staring at the blank computer screen for what feels like eons, (oh, right I guess there's work to do), you think to yourself, "Is this it? Is this what I was put here to do; stare at this screen, play online games and check my email every 25 seconds? Let it end, will ya?" Though it seems impossible that there really is an end in sight, don't worry, there definitiely is; you just need a little guidance.  Not only is there a fantastical end for those willing to take the chance, there's an easy way to get there. Lucky you, I'm going to show you how.

This month-long expedition will follow myself and my all-female film crew as we head across country (starting point Chicago, IL) and blaze over the seedy border into Tijuana, Mexico. We're headed into the wilds of Baja and we're on a mad hunt for expatriates (the best way to describe an expat is by using these words, "a displaced person").

Note to future expats: You just pack a scant few possessions, firm up your stateside affairs, take your physical body and hasta la vista, son. Simple as that.

I know it seems risky or even highly unlikely that someone would do such a thing, but trust me, they're out there. Fleeing the norm happens every single day and it ain't that hard. As we like to say, "I guess ya just get on a plane and go." In this case, my fatcake crew is skipping the plane and just roaring down the long and winding Highway 1, which runs from tip to glorious tip of the Baja peninsula. We'll be filming the first episode of a new television series we're producing called "Tracking Expats," along the way and we'll uncover the adventurous souls who've actually taken the plunge and simply bolted, no questions asked.

From crossing the jam-packed border (most cars are clamoring to get into the USA, not get out of it), chewin' the fat with the faux border guards (they really are nice kids, guns and all), figuring out which picturesque town to set up camp in (some of the surly snowbirds just create their own little shanty villages on the Sea of Cortez), kickin' it with the stunned locals (they love fresh meat), creating an SUV/motorhome/palapa rigged casa (what more do you need besides sparkling, azure water, fresh grilled fish and an icy cold one, anyway?), and creating a new life for yourself (can anyone say, "Hi, my name's Geoff and I'm a sailing instructor."), we're going to show you how it's done, Baja-style.

We're a lean film crew with an SUV, some rockin' camping gear (we're completely geared up by the super cool Chicago-based company, Moosejaw), a few cameras (video & still), some sound gear (since I'm the Host and always on mic, watch what you say...), and nothing but the desert, the Sea of Cortez and a bunch of expats on the horizon. The ride has begun.