Estero Beach Resort, Ensenada
The fabulously '50s Estero Beach Resort -- a sage and seafoam concrete dream marriage between Aztec beauty and American efficiency -- stands in sharp contrast to the messy, half-finished look of some portions of Ensenada. Everything is landscaped and regular; even the coastline has been straightened into tasteful rock walls, which rise straight out of the water. There is a pinkish, '80s-style addition, but it fails to muffle the echo of a bygone era that pervades the place. Nestled next to that resort, tucked in against the coast, stands the prettiest trailer park you could wish for -- broad red brick streets cut by narrow walkways, everything tidy and well-groomed, everything at right angles. The trailers themselves are mostly older, full of the solid optimistic, semi-adventuresome glory that was the early American trailer home. Sixty-five thousand dollars puts you on the water, in a house so large that the original trailer seems almost an afterthought, while $6500 gets you a modest little starter. A few stand alone, most have been added onto -- sunporches, extra bedrooms, painted wood siding. If a man had the means, the temptation to disappear into this Mexican slice of Americana would be almost irresistible.
Estero Beach Resort, Ensenada
The fabulously '50s Estero Beach Resort -- a sage and seafoam concrete dream marriage between Aztec beauty and American efficiency -- stands in sharp contrast to the messy, half-finished look of some portions of Ensenada. Everything is landscaped and regular; even the coastline has been straightened into tasteful rock walls, which rise straight out of the water. There is a pinkish, '80s-style addition, but it fails to muffle the echo of a bygone era that pervades the place. Nestled next to that resort, tucked in against the coast, stands the prettiest trailer park you could wish for -- broad red brick streets cut by narrow walkways, everything tidy and well-groomed, everything at right angles. The trailers themselves are mostly older, full of the solid optimistic, semi-adventuresome glory that was the early American trailer home. Sixty-five thousand dollars puts you on the water, in a house so large that the original trailer seems almost an afterthought, while $6500 gets you a modest little starter. A few stand alone, most have been added onto -- sunporches, extra bedrooms, painted wood siding. If a man had the means, the temptation to disappear into this Mexican slice of Americana would be almost irresistible.
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