Since we’ve gotten to San Diego, a lot of friends and family have asked us whether we feel safe in Mexico.
I’m guessing part of that stems from all the recent media coverage about the country being under siege, spring break vacations ruined (or second-guessed), etc. Although, to be fair, we got that question before we moved there and the drug war blew up.
One woman asked me: “You’re not afraid you’re going to get kidnapped?”
My answer: No. (Can I throw in a “con calmita”?) I feel perfectly safe in Mexico. (The fatalist side of me has to throw in a toque madera here.) Seriously though: It’s fine. No one I know is scared they’re going to get kidnapped. I’ve joked about it with a few people, actually. (Eeee, is that bad?) I just try to stay aware of my surroundings, not wear my diamond ring. If speaking English on the street, I try to do so discreetly. And I make sure any taxi I climb into has license plates.
Speaking of taxis: I’ve hailed them off the street with success, but I may stick to authorized stands now. A friend told me a horror story about a friend of hers who hailed a cab in La Condesa in the middle of the day, and ended up raped and dumped on the side of the Periferico.
Hearing something like that still doesn’t make me scared to live in Mexico. Just makes me think: Be wary of hailing a cab in La Condesa. Being scared and shut away in the house all day, what kind of life is that? Then I’d never try all the fabulous licuados, which I miss already.
Like other socially aware Americans in Mexico, I do wish American media coverage wouldn’t generalize so much about the fear and violence that’s supposedly sweeping the country. Maybe that’s the copy editors’ faults.