I recently visited Mexico City, the capital of Mexico and its most populous city. I frequently get asked if it’s safe, my quick reaction is ‘what makes you think you’re so special to qualify as a target?’, but that’s not what I say.
I’ve lived in Brazil and visited the favelas (with a guide), spent a year in Guadalajara, and even frequented the camps during the Lebanese civil war and rarely had any issues (except for the occasional Israeli air strike).
Given that I’m likely an undesirable target I figured I would look up the numbers to make this more objective.
The likelihood of getting murdered on vacation is extremely low, even if you visit the world champion Colima, with a homicide rate of 182 per 100,000, your probability of getting murdered is less than 0.2%, and that’s over a year.
Go down the list and you’ll see that New Orleans, Detroit, Memphis, and Cleveland are deadlier than Cancun, Mexico city doesn’t even make the top 50.
Robberies are where it gets a bit more interesting. The data comes from different sources so it’s unclear if the similar thresholds are applied, but it looks like Mexico wins in this area.
The average robbery rate in Mexico is ~6 times higher than the US champion, Baltimore, and roughly 20x the median — somewhere in between Dallas and San Francisco. This doesn’t adjust for the 18:1 ratio of the Peso to USD which would probably even things out, but Mexico definitely wins in occurences.
In the end, your safety is a function of your behavior and your attachment to your belongings. Don’t do dumb stuff like walking in dark alleys alone and/or flashing your cash and you’ll be ok. Minimize cash, keep a spare credit card in your room, and in the unlikely event that you get held up, give them your cash and wallet and consider it a tourist tax.
If things really escalate, maybe offer your noisiest and least favorite child, and stop asking if it’s safe.
Why Mexico city?
Because I’ve been there briefly in 2017 and fortunately left a day before the big earthquake. I enjoyed the weekend and felt like I was a Manhattan in Mexico without the water. There was lots of good food, a huge central park, and tons of walking, so when my friend of Musab of Oman fame, and host of my favorite freedom trip so far, asked for a suggestion for a place to meet that’s equidistant from SF and NYC, I figured Mexico would be a safe bet. He likes good food and a good walk, and did not ask me if it’s safe.
Our Airbnb was in Condesa, one of the ‘nicer’ neighborhoods in the city. There was a 3K loop right behind the building called Amsterdam street, this became our daily “stroll” street for pre and post meal walks. It was also excellent for morning runs and feeding options.
We had minimal aspirations of doing touristy things like visiting the pyramids or going to museums. The convenience, proximity, and sheer number of great restaurants limited our travelling scope to less than 3 square miles of the city. This wasn’t an issue to either of us, and just as we did in NYC and Oman before, we spent the majority of the trip eating, walking, and talking, like a couple of good old men.
I made an attempt to locate the monumental Mexican flag in the historic district, which was a nice hour long walk from the apartment. To my disappointment, after multiple attempts and poorly directed queries, we reached the pole, but for some reason the flag wasn’t there. I could have completely messed up the directions, at this point we were both too hungry to care and we retired to a glorious lunch at the historic Azul restaurant.
The rest of the days passed without much fanfare, there was Italian, steak, Oaxacan, seafood, Lebanese, Mexican, and an obscenely giant piece of chocolate cake. Our endless strolls did a good job of keeping the calories at bay.
I was also impressed with the canine population of Mexico city. They were everywhere, almost every human in our neighborhood had one. What was especially impressive was how well behaved they were and how many of them were off-leash.
I frequently let Homer off leash in my hood, I live at the bottom of a hill that only delivery trucks and lost people drive down, making it unlikely to encounter humans. Every now and then I push my luck and keep him off leash until we get to the main road, where he would bolt at the sight of another dog, the owner developing a ghastly pant as he sees the 80 pound dog rocket approaching.
For the record, Homer is harmless, so I’ve stopped racing after him because I know he won’t do anything. After experiencing dog etiquette in Mexico city, I wish we could bring some of that stateside.
There was a slight inconvenience of a painfully nagging toothache that got worse by the day. It’s unclear why my painful events seem to congregate around my travel days, and this was a new experience. As I’ve mentioned in my post about pain, I have no issues with reactions to trauma or brute force, but this was a stupid high pressure pain that felt like my gum was trying to projectile force my tooth outwards.
When it started affecting my sleep, I visited the local pharmacy for some conveniently prescribed antibiotics by the nice volunteer medic. This was followed by a visit to the local dentist who had a beautiful clinic with views of lush gardens, after some x-rays he confirmed that my tooth was infected and would require a root canal, which he offered to perform and I declined, not because I don’t trust Mexican dentists (they are excellent and much cheaper than their American counterparts) — flying after a root canal wasn’t something I wanted to experience.
The saga had a happy ending though, my insurance covered most of the damage and the root canal was the fastest and least painful one I’d ever had.
Bonus Redwoods
Upon my return, my other good friend and primary instigator, Mohamed, happened to be on his way to deliver a riveting compendium at a Vegas get-together of the elite, and he decided to grace me with his presence with a quick stop over.
After a futile attempt to find some lands to subdue his latest obsession with turkey hunting (California makes it extra hard to hunt animals you can buy from supermarkets), we spent the time enjoying a day of unseasonal torrential rains (a common theme accompanying his visits) followed by a day out in the majestic California redwoods, still my favorite otherworldly tree.
Homer was quite happy to see Mohamed again, as he welcomed a new set of hands to fill with the slobber of his rubber ball.
The moral of this story is: don’t be afraid, book your travel, and roam free, you are not as compelling of a target as you’d like to believe.