THE (LOST) PLEASURE OF WALKING IN MEXICO CITY
August 8, 2005

            Mexico City. Walking in Mexico’s capital city can be hazardous to your health.  I wish this statement was an exaggeration.  It isn’t.

  Walking around here is a gamble.  They might rob you, they might not.  If you are robbed, it might be in a violent way or perhaps only by means of mere threats.  If you are lucky they’ll just take your wallet and that’s it.  If not, maybe they’ll take you to several ATM machines until they withdraw as much money as possible from your account and then they’ll leave you, shaking and without your cell phone, muttering curses.

  Mexicans walk with fear, or at least with precaution.  They turn around all the time to see whether someone is following them. Women hug their purses like newborn babies.  Men constantly pat their pockets to make sure their biweekly paycheck and driver’s license do not disappear as if by magic.

  Walking—one of the most common and pleasant activities that a person can do, is a danger in this city.  Walking in this, one of the most interesting cities I know of, is another pleasure that we have lost.

  Crime statistics in Mexico City are unreliable.  Many Mexicans have no respect for the police and therefore fail to report crimes.  Why should they, they wonder, if on several occasions it has been the police themselves who have committed the crimes or collaborated with the criminals.  Seventy-five percent of Mexicans fail to report crimes, according to the International Crime Victimization Survey.  But crime is not something that one only sees on the news.  “During the last 5 years, at least one member of almost half the households in the country has been the victim of a crime,” according to the conclusions of said United Nations sponsored survey.

  So as to not bog you down with too many statistics, let us concentrate only on the matter of kidnappings.  Only in Colombia are there more cases of kidnapping than in Mexico. In 2002, 107 kidnappings were committed in Mexico, 169 in 2003, and in the year 2000 the number reached 200. And during the first half of 2005, according to the Federal Bureau of Investigations, 75 people had been kidnapped.  But, again, nobody believes these official numbers.

  The number of kidnappings recorded by the Mexican Employers’ Association (Coparmex) is three times the number recognized by the federal government.  And even so, these estimates fall short. A kidnapped businessman, for example, has a greater chance of being released if there is no publicity during the kidnapping and subsequent negotiations.

  That’s why the job of the mayor of the largest city in the world is mission impossible.  No matter how much he does, he will always be blamed for the kidnappings and crime.  Moreover, there is no way to resolve the traffic, drainage, housing, pollution, poverty, education, health and overpopulation problems in two or three years. Alejandro Encinas, the new mayor, stares this monster in the face 24 hours a day.  The best outcome the leader of the capital city can hope for is just what Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador achieved, leaving office with his political career intact. And the conclusion is this:  if Lopez Obrador was able to handle the capital—and survived the attacks of the PAN and the PRI—then he can handle anything.  If he makes no huge mistakes between now and July 2, 2006, the Los Pinos Presidential Palace can be his.

   But in reality, my goal was not to talk about political prognostications but rather about something much simpler.  I want to talk about walking, walking in Mexico City. 

   Having lived 20 years away from here, every return included a certain measure of caution: avoiding certain places at specific times of day, not going out alone and of course, not walking.  I’ve never worn a watch, or rings, or necklaces, although I always carried a credit card and the minimum amount of cash needed to buy a meal and that’s it.

   However, a short time ago and accompanied by an excellent guide, I toured the Condesa neighborhood and was surprised to see so many people walking around.  And I did exactly the same:  I walked to the restaurant where I ate some delicious steak tacos with an orange Chaparrita soft drink, I walked to Mexico Park and watched people feeding the ducks and taking pictures of a sweet sixteen dressed in pink, I walked to buy a chocolate ice cream, I walked over to see how they are refurbishing the art deco buildings, walked to the Las Cibeles fountain and walked the whole way around Rio de Janeiro Plaza, and when I got thirsty I walked over to where they make some marvelous strawberry juices, I walked to a mescal bar where some friends of mine were getting tanked around midnight, and later I walked to Tizoncito to get some pork tacos smothered in salsa and lemon in the wee hours of the morning. The fear I felt in other areas of the city I did not feel as strongly in the traffic islands and shops in Condesa.

    Something as simple as walking was, for me, a way of recapturing a little of the city where I was born.  Walking, even with fear, as an act of defiance, is one way of taking back the control over our lives from criminals and ineffectual bureaucrats.

    My long walks through the Condesa and surrounding neighborhoods made me think of the Londoners who went out into the streets on the day after the recent terrorist attacks. The message they were sending the terrorists was clear: you are not going to win, you are not going to change our lifestyle. Whether it be against terrorism or against crime, cities are won or lost by walking.