Before I went to Mexico City, I was warned. Warned of pick-pockets, corrupt cops, fake taxis, the water. I was warned not to carry a purse or camera and to wear only closed-toed shoes. I was advised that in the event of my arrest to try and kill a guard so that they would kill me first, thus escaping weeks of drawn-out torture via a quick death.
It couldn’t be that bad, I told myself. These warnings were from people who’d never been to Mexico. There was adventure to be had, photos to be taken. There were life experiences and lessons to gain in ways I never expected.
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