Indeed. True story. I was drifting through the mountains of southern Mexico with some friends, in an old pickup. We encountered an old woman, carrying a large pot, and gave her a ride to a nearby town, maybe ~10 km away.
So it turns out that she had made the pot. Mined the clay. Fired it in charcoal from a wood fire. And she was intending to sell it for several pesos, with which she'd buy corn, beans and chillies. Walking both ways.
Getting over the guards with shotguns at the ATMs took a little time, but not much (I grew up in a bad urban area of a Midwestern city).
Getting over the theft and such, a little while still. But I started figuring out the usual scams and such. (Taxis still only cost $1 at the most, with no tipping expected, anyway.)
I even was able to mostly get over the fact that when you drove 5 km outside of the city that I'd see abject poverty that I hadn't even seen in the worst areas of my rust belt city - stuff that makes this article look like absolutely nothing.
It was a chronic thing: Ex-pats all living inside a literal walled garden, getting everything delivered. This was before Uber Eats and the like, so getting McDonalds and other fast food delivered to the complex was a new thing. Groceries, food, entertainment. And then the constant trips to Hotel del Rey and the Blue Marlin Bar so my co-workers could pick up prostitutes on the cheap with rooms available for rent by the hour...
What I realized slowly over a period of a few months is that it wasn't the insane poverty - and relatively low violent crime rate! - that got to me. It was what we were doing to "gentrify" the area. It felt like, and was, pure exploitation and taking advantage of massive economic gradients. That we worked in tech and could sling some code made us masters of our domain, being paid well-above-average wages for Silicon Valley - and literally unheard of sums in Costa Rica.
Yeah, you see the walled compound thing in Mexico too. In hard neighborhoods, there's broken glass set in concrete at the top. With heavy metal-reinforced wooden doors/gates. And no windows (obviously) in the outer wall. In downtowns, you do typically see heavily barred windows on the front.
And damn, ex-pats! In heavily ex-pat areas, prices are pretty much at US level. I recall paying $20 to park for a few hours in downtown Cuernavaca! Stuff is very inexpensive outside those areas, but then you're the only gringos around.
Up in the mountains, you get hard looks from some of the male indigente. Who often speak Mexican as a second language. Their ancestors fled the Spanish way back when, and they're still there. And they don't trust outsiders. If they decide that you're up to no good, a mob may hurt or kill you. Even if you're an official of the Mexican government.
> ... I grew up in a bad urban area of a Midwestern city ...
I recall one trip, going through the Amtrak section of Penn Station in NYC. There were at least four kinds of armed folk wandering around: 1) National Guard with AR15s; 2) NYC police with AR15s; 3) NYC K9 teams; and 4) Amtrack police. But at least no shotguns :)
San Jose, Costa Rica, that is.