Pretty scary place, Mexico having said which, my colleague Jeff Cook has a brother who lives there in some luxury on the Pacific west coast and doesn’t seem to have any problems whatsoever. There is no Alfredo Garcia looking for his head.
I’ve been I think five times. The first time was when we took the little train down from San Diego for a one-day visit to Tijuana; my daughter was ten then. Jeez it was scary and if you wandered off the main drag you were immediately offered drugs by children even younger than my daughter or sex with children not much older. A few years later we went to El Paso and crossed over to the Mexican side in a taxi, to see what it was like. Wasn’t interesting.
Then a few years after that we were on a cruise that stopped off at Cozumel, an island just off the east coast which is supposed to be where Cortez landed in 1519.
You can’t not read Cormac McCarthy and not find Mexico beguiling.
Yesterday we went to an open-air folk festival where the headliners were a traditional Mexican troupe of young musicians and dancers who played and entertained us for an hour. Music colour and movement, all professionally executed with a live band [two guitars; fiddle, trumpet, a drum machine and two singers], in the afternoon sunshine. Just lovely. Not the real Mexico? Good enough for me. And as authentic as any other version I have encountered.