Inside Scoop on the Recent Violence in Mexico

By your intrepid reporter, located somewhere in Mexico. Danger is my middle name!

An image of el Mencho that was displayed on a video at a live concert

Note to readers: I’m posting this a day earlier this week due to the nature of the story. Also, it’s a much shorter post: 1,000 words. I got the message. No 2000-word posts.

(Oops, typo. Actually, gander is my middle name. I like to look around when I travel.)

PART 1: Drug-Related Violence Erupts Again in Mexico

Yes, I am still in Mexico. No, I am not telling you where. Maybe you’ll recognize it.

Photo of the place I call “Naughty Bambino Beach”

By now, you have all seen the news headlines over the weekend. “All-out war here!”

Mexican government security forces eliminated El Mencho, the head of the New Generation drug cartel. As a result, violence exploded across several Mexican states.

His men retaliated, setting cars and buildings on fire. The government imposed a curfew overnight. Helicopters flew overhead while nervous residents peered through their curtains at the scenes of mayhem playing out in the streets.

After El Mencho was killed, his men retaliated, setting cars and businesses on fire

A lot of my family and friends freaked out about my safety, peppering me with emails and texts. “Are you safe?” “You'd better come home!” “Is the violence close to you?”

The broad, sweeping generalization, as seen from afar, is that: “Mexico is SO dangerous!”

***

Yet, I’m still here, hanging out on an anonymous beach. Do I have a death wish?

No.

I’m enjoying my stay at Naughty Bambino beach, a code name I use for my current location until things cool down in Mexico. Do you still think it’s too dangerous?

On Sunday, 24 hours after El Mencho died, I was sitting on an airy beach patio, listening to live music. A friendly wedding party invited me to join their table.

The young groom kept offering to top off my shot glass with Gran Malo tamarind-flavored tequila, fruity and tart, like an aperitif, then the tequila hit me over the head.

As the song says, I’d rather be a hammer than a nail. Tequila is a hammer, for sure. That may be why I woke up feeling like a nail.

Fun, lively music, people dancing, families celebrating. That’s my Mexico. Not the grotesque violence happening 1,000 kilometers away.

Part 2: So, Why Am I Still in Mexico?

Everyone is asking me this right now. Partly, I am here to be a witness. If no one drives down to Mexico to see things for themselves, how will we ever get the full story?

In my third winter here, I have a different angle on recent events. Not the media story about where the bullets are flying, which is only part of the bigger story.

I don’t bother anyone here, and no one bothers me. I just do my own thing. No one is hunting for me now, as far as I know. Three days after the killing, it is quiet now.

So far, no tourists, and specifically, no Americans, have been killed. Yet.

Most Mexican states are reproted to have a cartel presence

That could change in the days or weeks ahead, but I am safe now. As a nomad, I harbored a notion for years to defy typical logic and drive down to Old Mexico.

That’s what I did three years ago. You all said, “That man is crazy.” You may be right. Maybe I am crazy. Sometimes, it takes a crazy person to see what sane people don’t.

Mexico is still safer than many of you may think.

***

Bear in mind that I am nowhere near the front lines of the conflict. But I can’t resist the opportunity to talk about Mexico while it is in the headlines.

Meanwhile, I am on the patio of a beach hotel, wearing my sandals, enjoying the sea breeze, listening to the surf and seagulls, and planning to eat ceviche for lunch.

Sunday, I spent the afternoon on the hotel’s beach-facing patio, enjoying live music performed by Juan, a genius on the piano who has an inexhaustible song repertoire.

He is so good, I nicknamed him after another piano prodigy. I call him El-Tono Juan.

And here is how I re-imagined him…

He plays all styles, from lugubrious ranchero and norteña to the irresistible cumbia beat to Mexican pop, and a smattering of US pop tunes, entirely from memory.

The patio was packed.

Large Mexican families enjoyed their Sunday afternoon and danced. One gentleman executed intricate moves without spilling a drop of his cerveza. The owner, Enrique, sat nearby, drinking a beer, and gave me two thumbs up about every five seconds.

I said he bears an uncanny resemblance to Charles Bronson. He laughed and said I look like Chuck Norris (plus a few pounds). Everyone is safe with us here.

Charles Bronson and Chuck Norris have nothing to fear

To say that I felt safe in this innocuous setting would be an understatement.

***

Part 3: I’m Not Leaving – Are You Coming?

You’re probably still wondering if I’m coming home now.

No internecine cartel war has erupted yet^. Other than renaming the place where I am, “Naughty Bambino,” I’m not leaving. Why would they want to kidnap me, anyway?

As far as I know, the US market for illegal drugs is worth way more to them than I am.

If they kidnap me, I’m guessing they would lose money. I doubt they could get enough to cover the cost of my food and lodging, plus paying the guards to watch over me.

Sometimes, it pays to be worthless. All I have is an old Toyota minivan. What cartel boss in his right mind would want to be seen driving an old red Toyota minivan?

Does this beach look dangerous to you?

***

I have a question for you.

Based on this information, would you consider driving to Mexico on vacation if you thought that it was reasonably safe? This is my third winter here, with no safety issues.

Has this post made any difference in the way you think or feel about Mexico?

If you still prefer to fly down to Mexican resorts for a week, fine. Enjoy it. But if you want to learn Spanish and meet Mexican people, drive down. Spend some time here.

Think it over. There are a lot of competing, conflicting facts and ideas at play here.

· On one hand, trucks and cars were burning 1,000 kilometers south on Sunday.

· Meanwhile, I am hanging out on a balmy beach at an undisclosed location.

And so on.

I know where I’d rather be. Where would you rather be?

Notes and Questions for Readers

Let me know if you prefer a shorter post, about 1,000 words, like this one, or the longer posts that I have written, which range between 2,000 to 3,000 words.

I’d also love to know why you prefer one length of post to another. As a writer, I tend to go on and on, but I don’t want to bore you or waste your time. Let me know please.

One school of thought says people are inundated with things to read and watch, so we should minimize the size of posts, but does that underestimate your level of interest?