(Editor’s note: The continuing segments of Road to Anarchapulco will be posted at 9:00PM EST for the duration of the event).
Day 1:
That rush of heat and humidity that hits you as the plane doors open, that shrinks your Levis at least 2 sizes, and leaves you wondering why you wore jeans knowing you’d be landing in Mexico.
It feels like Mexico is hugging you and saying ‘Welcome in from the cold’; the cold being the reason you did wear jeans, but won’t bother to remember for the remainder.
Acapulco: the iconic vacation destination that launched the Mexican resort industry. The name is synonymous with black and white images of swinging 60s starlets, a shirtless Frank Sinatra nursing a hangover, or a bikini clad Bridgette Bardot sipping daiquiris under a beach umbrella.
The massive development of the area during the 70’s and a concerted effort to broaden the clientele who might visit the beach town (Plug: free markets = competition and the affluence afforded to the average American tourist by such instruments), it seems that Acapulco’s exclusivity has diminished meaning any working class bum like myself, or any other Liberty loving weirdo’s – currently occupying the Princess Mundo Imperial – have access to a world class beach resort. And this town certainly hasn’t lost its class; though listening to any media coverage of the place paints a pretty bleak picture.
On a clear day you can almost see the hippos crowding the Colombian riverbanks, descendants of the pets of Pablo Escobar and one of the more intimidating of any invasive species I’ve heard of.
Being a stone’s-throw from the hotbed of world cocaine production to the south and on the doorstep of the world’s largest consumer population of illicit drugs to the north, puts all of Mexico in a precarious situation; and Acapulco, for all its former glory, hasn’t been immune to those effects.
The semicircular bay acts as a major trade port, a link in the chain between the Panama Canal and San Francisco, and more recently as a busy cruise ship hub, making it easy for businessmen of all shapes and sizes to travel their wares to foreign markets.
Maybe not so incidentally, gun violence and gang warfare has tarnished Acapulco’s once iconic reputation.
Being ranked as one of the most dangerous cities in the world and the murder capital of Mexico has earned it the nickname “Guerreros Iraq.”
Some statisticians have even listed Acapulco as the second most “dangerous” city in the world. This isn’t to say that it’s not still a great vacation spot; it is safe, for tourists. Even the people involved in the drug trade understand the staple rule in the Mexican economy: Don’t fuck with the tourists.
The truth is that you only have to spend a few minutes walking down the street to realize that these crime statistics don’t paint a very accurate picture of Acapulco which is usually the case with most crime statistics.
Inaccurate crime statistics, the drug war, the corrupt Mexican government, and beautiful white sand beaches with the rolling waves of the mighty Pacific Ocean supply the perfect backdrop for the premiere event for voluntaryist thinkers and activists.
It’s an event that examines the problems associated with the war on drugs, or the problem of massive gun crime and murder (in an area where firearms are out and out illegal), problems with legislation, taxation, government, you name it. We are not only discussing the problems but to provide common sense, free market, Liberal solutions; and of course to talk about Bitcoin… and everything crypto for that matter. What is it you ask?
Anarchapulco!
I remember arguing online with some leftie about free markets and libertarianism (as is generally my custom), his response was that every time that a completely free market has been attempted the results were “roving gangs, warlords, and the suppression of those inalienable rights that they attempted to preserve.”
“Where can I find this land of dangerous cabals and warring gangs?” I had asked, as I would have pursued citizenship there.
He struggled to actually produce any evidence (as is generally his custom). He did send me an article about Galt’s Gulch Chile, however, and I was rather disappointed. It read more like “Glengarry Glenn Ross,” and less like “Beyond Thunderdome.”
The combination of two stories: A bunch of middle to upper class westerners looking to retire early, wanting to live on a commune, doing yoga and making organic juice and a typical real estate deal gone bad and why should I care? After all, who didn’t lose money on real estate in those years?
My point however is that the curator of this anti-state art exhibit called Anarchapulco was also a big time investor in the subject of said article.
Jeff Berwick (also of “The Dollar Vigilante” and “Anarchast”)
*Article not included to protect the reader from boredom*.
Anarchapulco… I’ll admit pronouncing the word does give me some trouble, An-arch-a-pul-co. Yet somehow when I say it, it seems to unintentionally include the word “porn.”
It’s happened enough times that rather than suffering the embarrassment of speaking it, I simply began telling people that I was going to Jeff Berwick’s party in Mexico.
I don’t know Jeff personally, so I’ll try not to speak too out of turn.
If you read through different online articles, you’ll find he’s heavily criticized and accused of all sorts of nefarious things, of which I can’t confirm or deny.
But two things do stand out in all of these blog and Steemit posts against him.
First: There’s no real smoking gun. I guess at one time he had a business where he would help people get a second passport. A second passport is a handy thing and if you’re looking to do business in other countries or move money around internationally it can be a real asset.
Dealing in passports and pulling strings in immigration offices, especially in Latin America, has its gray areas in legality and some people took offense to Mr. Berwick’s tactics; but in my opinion, so what?
The guy openly advocates for Anarchism. You’re hiring a guy who doesn’t believe you should require a passport… to get you a passport. Hell, in the spirit of free markets, make your own passport for all I care.
Second: If you judge a man by the company he keeps, Mr. Berwick has a solid list of integrity minded individuals surrounding him.
He’s had no problem attracting some of the top tier speakers in the liberty movement to his beach party, including the great Ron Paul.
Few things are constant in the Liberty movement, but one thing that is, is that if you want to make any kind of real impact you have to be some kind of a maverick. Draw some attention to yourself, kick up some dust, and, I’d say, old Berwick fits this bill.
Despite his prolific online presence, he’s rumored to be somewhat of a recluse, watching the majority of the conference from his mansion on the hill, and showing up only for the required photo ops.
This year’s line up of speakers is impressive and will be hard to compete with in the years to come. Everyone is here… fucking everyone!
You can’t walk from the bar to the baño without bumping into some kind of YouTube “celebritarian.”
I shared a plane with Mike Maloney and Lauren Southern. I kept it cool, although my first reaction might have been to ask for a picture with one of them, it doesn’t seem necessary here at Anarchapulco.
After listening to Jeffrey Tucker close out the day on a high point of reclaiming the word ‘liberal’ to a standing ovation, Ben Swann was sitting behind me in the hotel lobby bar. I turned around once and he smiled casually and raised his beer at me, I returned the gesture.
There’s no barrier between the speakers and the audience whether it be in the hotel lobby, bar, or when the stage is set in the air conditioned conference room, which I struggled to endure while the swim up bar was serving sangria within a few short steps.
The performances on stage act in unison with the crowd, as if the purveyor of ideas was connected with the recipient, a single organism. Not surprising, I suppose, given the nature of this event.
At any point in the day you could walk out of the conference room and find yourself enjoying a cold pacifico and a conversation with the leader of the Libertarian Party of Canada, Tim Moen and his lovely wife, which I did.
They bicker in a cute, flirty way which is irresistibly endearing.
I was barely paying attention, realizing that it was doubtful I would get any updates on the Winter Olympics here in Acapulco, when a conversation broke out between the Moens about whether the side dish on Tim’s plate was celery or cucumber. Which at first sounds like a ridiculous thing, from where I sat it was obviously celery, but then, leaning in closer for inspection, I thought to myself “Jesus Christ! They cut the goddamn cucumber lengthwise! What is this… anarchy?!”
– Darcy Gerow
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