The past few years haven’t been kind to Mexico’s image. The unceasing hum of violence and corruption—of beach and border town shootouts, of high profile kidnappings and murders and bribes—would have been enough to squelch (or spur) those ubiquitous “Mexico” magazine ads. Then swine flu came along.

So I wasn’t too surprised when, on a recent month-and-a-half long visit to central Mexico, I saw but a handful of fanny pack-laden red and pink-skinned visitors. The trip, which was a guidebook writing assignment, took my wife and I to all the major tourist spots within a few hours drive of the capital: Puebla, Cuernavaca, Taxco, Tepotzlán, Teotihuacan and many others.

Everywhere, it was the same: not a foreign traveler in sight.

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