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With drug-fueled violence and corruption escalating sharply, many fear drug cartels have grown too powerful for Mexico to control. Why things are getting worse, and what it means for the United States.

Mexican marines stand guard next to about 7 tons of confiscated cocaine on Feb. 16.

Monterrey, Mexico

Detective Ramon Jasso was heading to work in this bustling city a few days ago when an SUV pulled alongside and slowed ominously. Within seconds, gunmen fired 97 bullets at the 37-year-old policeman, killing him instantly.

Mr. Jasso had been warned. The day before, someone called his cellphone and said he would be killed if he didn’t immediately release a young man who had been arrested for organizing a violent protest in support of the city’s drug gangs. The demonstrators were demanding that the Mexican army withdraw from the drug war. The protests have since spread from Monterrey — once a model of order and industry — to five other cities.

Much as Pakistan is fighting for survival against Islamic radicals, Mexico is waging a do-or-die battle with the world’s most powerful drug cartels. Last year, some 6,000 people died in drug-related violence here, more than twice the number killed the previous year. The dead included several dozen who were beheaded, a chilling echo of the scare tactics used by Islamic radicals. Mexican drug gangs even have an unofficial religion: They worship La Santa Muerte, a Mexican version of the Grim Reaper.

In growing parts of the country, drug gangs now extort businesses, setting up a parallel tax system that threatens the government monopoly on raising tax money. In Ciudad Juarez, just across the border from El Paso, Texas, handwritten signs pasted on schools warned teachers to hand over their Christmas bonuses or die. A General Motors distributorship at a midsize Mexican city was extorted for months at a time, according to a high-ranking Mexican official. A GM spokeswoman in Mexico had no comment.

“We are at war,” says Aldo Fasci, a good-looking lawyer who is the top police official for Nuevo Leon state, where Monterrey is the capital. “The gangs have taken over the border, our highways and our cops. And now, with these protests, they are trying to take over our cities

The parallels between Pakistan and Mexico are strong enough that the U.S. military singled them out recently as the two countries where there is a risk the government could suffer a swift and catastrophic collapse, becoming a failed state.

Pakistan is the greater worry because the risk of collapse is higher and because it has nuclear weapons. But Mexico is also scary: It has 100 million people on the southern doorstep of the U.S., meaning any serious instability would flood the U.S. with refugees. Mexico is also the U.S.’s second biggest trading partner.

Mexico’s cartels already have tentacles that stretch across the border. The U.S. Justice Department said recently that Mexican gangs are the “biggest organized crime threat to the United States,” operating in at least 230 cities and towns. Crimes connected to Mexican cartels are spreading across the Southwest. Phoenix had more than 370 kidnapping cases last year, turning it into the kidnapping capital of the U.S. Most of the victims were illegal aliens or linked to the drugs trade.

Former U.S. antidrug czar Barry McCaffrey said Mexico risks becoming a “narco-state” within five years if things don’t improve. Outgoing CIA director Michael Hayden listed Mexico alongside Iran as a possible top challenge for President Obama. Other analysts say the risk is not that the Mexican state collapses, but rather becomes like Russia, a state heavily influenced by mafias.

Such comparisons are probably a stretch — for now anyway. Beyond the headline-grabbing violence, Mexico is stable. It has a thriving democracy, the world’s 13th-largest economy and a growing middle class. And as many as 90% of those killed are believed to be linked to the trade in some way, say officials.

“We have a serious problem. The drug gangs have penetrated many institutions. But we’re not talking about an institutional collapse. That is wrong,” says Attorney General Eduardo Medina Mora.

Officials in both Washington and Mexico City also say the rising violence has a silver lining: It means that after decades of complicity or ignoring the problem, the Mexican government is finally cracking down on the drug cartels and forcing them to fight back or fight with one another for turf. One telling statistic: In the first three years of President Felipe Calderon’s six-year term, Mexico’s army has had 153 clashes with drug gangs. In the six years of his predecessor Vicente Fox’s term, there were only 16.”

If Mexico isn’t a failed state, though, it is a country with a weak state — one the narcos seem to be weakening further.

“The Mexican state is in danger,” says Gerardo Priego, a deputy from Mr. Calderon’s ruling center-right party, known as the PAN. “We are not yet a failed state, but if we don’t take action soon, we will become one very soon.”

Mexican academic Edgardo Buscaglia estimates there are 200 counties in Mexico — some 8% of the total — where drug gangs wield more influence behind the scenes than the authorities. With fearsome arsenals of rocket-propelled grenades, bazookas and automatic weapons, cartels are often better armed than the police and even the soldiers they fight. The number of weapons confiscated last year from drug gangs in Mexico could arm the entire army of El Salvador, by one estimate. Where do most of the weapons come from? The U.S.

Last year alone, gunmen fired shots and threw a grenade, which didn’t explode, at the U.S. consulate in Monterrey. The head of Mexico’s federal police was murdered in a hit ordered by one of his own men, whom officials say was working for the drug cartels. Mexico’s top antidrug prosecutor was arrested and charged with being on a cartel payroll, along with several other senior officials. One man in Tijuana admitted to dissolving some 300 bodies in vats of acid on behalf of a drug gang.  The publisher of Mexico’s most influential newspaper chain moved his family from Monterrey to Texas after he was threatened and gunmen paid a visit to his ranch. Other businessmen from cities across Mexico have done the same.

“I have never seen such a difficult situation” in Mexico, says Alejandro Junco, who publishes Reforma in Mexico City and El Norte in Monterrey. Mr. Junco now commutes every week to Mexico from Texas.

A few weeks ago, a recently retired army general hired to help the resort city of Cancun crack down on drug gangs was tortured and killed. His wrists and ankles were broken during the torture. Federal officials’ main suspect: the Cancun police chief, who has been stripped of his duties and put under house arrest during the investigation.

Every day brings a new horror. In Ciudad Juarez on Friday, gunmen killed a police officer and a prison guard, and left a sign on their bodies saying they would kill one officer every two days until the city police chief resigns. He quit late Friday.

Analysts and diplomats worry that drug traffickers may increase their hold on Mexico’s political process during midterm congressional elections scheduled for July.

Mauricio Fernandez Garza, the scion of a wealthy Monterrey family, says he was approached by a cartel when he was a gubernatorial candidate in 2003 and told the cartel would foot the bill for the campaign if he promised to “look the other way” on the drugs trade. He says he declined the offer. He lost the election.

Mexico has long been in the crosshairs of the drug war. In the 1980s, the drug of choice for local traffickers was marijuana, and much like today, accusations of high-level Mexican corruption were common. In 1985, DEA agent Enrique “Kiki” Camarena was tortured to death by local traffickers, with the aid of a former president’s brother-in-law. In 1997, the country’s antidrug czar Gen. Jesus Gutierrez Rebollo was jailed after it emerged he was in the employ of a powerful trafficker.

Drawn by the opportunity to supply the U.S. drug market, powerful trafficking groups have emerged on Mexico’s Pacific coast, its Gulf coast, in the northern desert state of Chihuahua and in the wild-west state of Sinaloa, home to most of Mexico’s original trafficking families. These groups, notorious for their shifting alliances and backstabbing ways, have fought for years for control of trafficking routes. Personal hatreds have marked fights over market share with barbaric violence.

Several new factors in the past few years added to the violence, however. In 2000, Mexicans voted out the Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI, which had ruled for 71 years. The end of a one-party state loosened authoritarian control and broke the old alliances cemented through corruption that kept a check on drug-related violence.

Another factor was 9/11. After the attacks, tighter border security prompted some gangs to sell cocaine in Mexico instead, breaking an unspoken agreement with the government that gangs would be tolerated as long as they didn’t sell the drugs in Mexico but passed them on instead to the gringos. Since 2001, local demand for cocaine has grown an estimated 20% per year. The creation of a local market only encouraged infighting over the spoils.

Things started getting really nasty in 2004, when Osiel Cardenas, then leader of the Gulf Cartel, killed Arturo “the Chicken” Guzman, the brother of Joaquin “Shorty” Guzman, a leader of the Sinaloa cartel. Mr. Guzman soon tried to take over Nuevo Laredo, the border city controlled by Mr. Cardenas with the help of the Zetas, former elite Mexican soldiers who defected to the drug traffickers, as well as most of the Nuevo Laredo police, who in fact worked for the Zetas. The struggle for Nuevo Laredo culminated in a pitched battle when gunmen used rocket-propelled grenades to attack a safe house belonging to the other cartel. The all-out battle led the U.S. to close its consulate for a week. The violence soon spread as the two groups fought for dominance all over Mexico’s northern border.

Monterrey, just a hundred miles to the south, seemed unperturbed. Can-do, confident and modern, Monterrey likes to think of itself as more American than Mexican. It’s the home of Mexico’s best university, Tecnologico de Monterrey, modeled on MIT, as well as the country’s most prosperous suburb, San Pedro Garza Garcia, and local units of 1,500 U.S. companies. Its police are considered among Mexico’s best. In the 1990s, the San Diego Padres came to play a few regular season games here and there was heady talk of Monterrey landing a pro baseball team.

As violence engulfed Nuevo Laredo, Monterrey business leaders, police chiefs and government officials were of one mind: It wouldn’t happen here. “We have drawn a line in the sand and told the drug lords they cross it at their peril,” state governor Natividad Gonzalez said in a 2005 interview.

What the governor apparently didn’t know is that, for years, Monterrey’s relative calm was due to an unspoken agreement between rival drug lords whose families lived quietly in the wealthy San Pedro enclave, a place where their wealth would not be conspicuous, say local police. But Monterrey was too big a local drug market to ignore for both sides, and soon fighting broke out.

By 2006, the murder rate spiked and cops were getting shot at point-blank on the streets. San Pedro Police Chief Hector Ayala was gunned down. Months later, Marcelo Garza y Garza, the chief of state police investigations, a well-known San Pedro resident and the DEA’s main contact in the city, was murdered outside the town’s largest Roman Catholic church. U.S. law-enforcement officials believe he was betrayed to the Zetas by a corrupt cop.

Today, the warring gangs still vie for control, though the Zetas have the upper hand. In much of the city, the gang is branching out into new types of criminal enterprise, especially extorting street vendors, nightclubs and other shops that operate on the margin of the law. These places used to be preyed upon by local cops, but no longer. The owner of a billiards hall says the Zetas told him they wanted a cut of the profits every month, a bill he ponies up. They also ordered him to allow someone to sell drugs at the hall, he says. “What can I do,” he shrugs.

In the street market along the city’s busy Reforma Ave, the Zetas sell pirated CDs, and have their own label: “Los Unicos,” or “The Only Ones,” with a logo of a black horse surrounded by four Zs. In Spanish, “Zeta” is how you pronounce the letter “Z.” One vendor says some Zetas came to the stalls last year and ordered several vendors to start peddling the Zeta label CDs.

Many Monterrey residents are convinced that even a cut from bribes they pay local cops for traffic violations goes to the Zetas through corrupt cops. That kind of extra money to fund the drug gangs only worsens the balance of power between the state and the traffickers. The drugs trade in Mexico generates at least $10 billion in yearly revenues, Mexican officials say. The government’s annual budget for federal law enforcement, not including the army: roughly $1.2 billion.

Both the Zetas and the Sinaloa cartels are believed to field as many as 10,000 gunmen each — the size of a small army. The Zetas, for instance, can find fresh recruits easily in Monterrey’s tough barrios, where the unemployment rate is high.

In Monterrey’s Independencia neighborhood, one of the city’s oldest, it is not the city government that controls the streets but the local pandillas, or gangs. During a recent workday, the streets were filled with young gangsters, sitting around playing marbles, chatting, and looking tough. At the entrance to a local primary school, a group of four men sat and smoked what appeared to be crack cocaine, what locals call “piedra” or rock.

Outsiders are clearly unwelcome. A reporter visiting in an unmarked SUV along with a state policeman wearing civilian clothes was enough to get plenty of hostile stares and a few mouthed expletives. One or two gang members pulled out their cell phones and began placing a call. “They’re unsure whether we’re cops or another drug gang,” said Jorge, the state policeman, who did not want his full name used for fear of retaliation by the drug lords. “Either way, we move on or we’re in trouble.”

Jorge, clean cut and with an infectious smile, has been a state cop for more than 20 years. He earns 6,000 pesos — $450 — a month. It’s an old saw in Mexico that police here don’t make enough money to either resist being corrupted by the criminals or care enough to risk their lives going after them. In fact, corruption extends throughout the police forces. A senior state official said privately that he doesn’t trust a single local police commander.

The state’s former head of public security resigned amid allegations that he was in league with the Sinaloa cartel. The man who took his place is Mr. Fasci, a former top prosecutor. Mr. Fasci says officials are trying to improve coordination among Mexico’s alphabet soup of different law enforcement bodies. In Monterrey’s metropolitan area, there are 11 different municipal police forces, a state police, three branches of the federal police, and the army. Statewide, there are 70 different emergency numbers for the police. Making matters worse, narcotics smuggling is a federal crime, so local cops aren’t supposed to prosecute it.

Mr. Fasci says the protests are organized by drug gangs, who go to barrios like Independencia and pay $30 to each person to block traffic, hold up signs like “no military repression.” Mr. Fasci thinks the gangs are trying to goad the police into a crackdown that would generate antipathy for the authorities and the army. “We’re not going to fall for it,” he says.

Neither will the Mexican government call off the soldiers. Mexico has no choice but to deploy the army to do what corrupt and inefficient state and local police forces can’t, says Mr. Fasci. And the protests are likely a sign the military is having success pressuring the drug gangs, say officials. Meanwhile, Mexico has passed a law that calls for an ambitious reform of all its state and municipal police forces. The problem: It could take 15 years or longer to complete, says Mr. Medina Mora, the attorney general.

The U.S., which is providing Mexico with some $400 million a year for equipment and training to combat drug traffickers, backs Mexico’s stand. U.S. law enforcement officials are ecstatic about Mr. Calderon’s get-tough approach. A U.S. law enforcement official says the Mexican military is trying to break down powerful drug cartels into smaller and more manageable drug gangs, like “breaking down boulders into pebbles.” He adds: “It might be bloody, it might be ugly, but it has to be done.”

Demand in the U.S., of course, is the motor for the drugs trade. Three former respected heads of state in Latin America, including Mexico’s former president Ernesto Zedillo, issued a joint report recently saying the drug war was too costly for countries like Mexico, and urged the U.S. to explore alternatives like decriminalizing marijuana.

Indeed, Mexican officials long ago gave up on thinking they might one day eliminate the drugs trade altogether. Victory now sounds a lot like what victory in Iraq might be for the U.S.: lower violence just enough so that people won’t talk about it anymore.

Jorge Tello, an adviser to President Calderon on the drugs war, defines it like this: “It’s like a rat-control problem. The rats are always down there in the sewers, you can’t really get rid of them. But what you don’t want are rats on people’s front doors.”

Leaves post hours after gunmen threaten to kill more officers

CIUDAD JUAREZ, Mexico – This border town’s police chief stepped down Friday after criminal gangs made a chilling demand: Resign or we will kill more local officials.

Public Safety Secretary Roberto Orduna announced he was leaving his post only hours after gunmen killed a police officer and a jail guard and left signs on their bodies saying they had fulfilled a promise made Wednesday to slay at least one officer every 48 hours until Orduna quits.

The slayings were a grim sign that criminal gangs are determined to control the police force of the biggest Mexican border city, with a population of 1.3 million people across from El Paso, Texas.

Mayor Jose Reyes insisted earlier Friday the city would not back down. “We will not allow the control of the police force to fall in the hands of criminal gangs,” he said.

But Orduna said he didn’t want to endanger more officers. “We can’t allow men who work defending our citizens to continue to lose their lives,” he said. “That is why I am presenting my permanent resignation.”

The resignation was effective immediately. Authorities said an interim chief would be named soon, and a permanent replacement would be found in the coming weeks.

Police hit lists
A retired army major, Orduna took over as chief in May after former Public Safety Secretary Guillermo Prieto resigned and fled to El Paso following the slaying of his operations director.

For Orduna’s protection, the city built his bedroom at the police station so he didn’t have to go home. He also travels in different vehicles when he does go out.

Ciudad Juarez police have long come under attack, and many officers have quit out of fear for their lives, some after their names appeared on hit lists left in public throughout the city. Police officer Cesar Ivan Portillo was the fifth officer killed this week in Mexico’s deadliest city.

Police were placed on “red alert” — meaning they could not patrol alone — after cardboard signs with handwritten messages appeared taped to the doors and windows of businesses Wednesday, warning Orduna that one officer would be killed every two days if he did not quit. That alert continued Friday after Orduna stepped down. Police have also been asked to patrol with their guns in their hands.

More than 6,000 people have been killed in drug violence across Mexico over the past year as gangs battle each other for territory and fight off a nationwide crackdown by the army. Nearly a third of the slayings have taken place in Ciudad Juarez, and more than 50 of those dead are city police officers.

Violence also has spilled across the border into the U.S., where authorities report a spike in killings, kidnappings and home invasions connected to Mexico’s murderous cartels.

‘Spreading like wildfire’
Homeland Security officials have said they will bring in the military if the violence continues to grow and threatens the U.S. border region.

“The violence is spreading like wildfire across the Rio Grande,” said George Grayson, a Mexico expert at the College of William & Mary in Virginia. “It’s a major national security problem for us that is much more important than Iraq and Afghanistan.”

Robert Almonte, executive director of the Texas Narcotics Officers Association, said that, while El Paso has been spared most of the violence, the escalating killings across the border in Juarez are worrisome.

“I think it’s jarring … we can’t even fathom those kinds of things happening here in the United States,” Almonte said.

SAN LUIS, Arizona (CNN) — The Yuma desert is below: San Luis, Arizona, to one side and San Luis, Mexico, to the other. On this clear day, the Colorado River is glistening, birds playfully circling over what any map defines as the U.S.-Mexico border in this area.

But from a helicopter above, the border is a steel barrier that stands out along the riverbank and against the desert sands, and is the dividing line that gets the most attention from those crying to cross illegally and those who believe recent efforts to bolster U.S. border security have been riddled with wrong choices.

Just this past week, eight Democrats in Congress wrote President Obama urging him to halt any further construction of the fence, one of the many border- and immigration-related political debates that have carried over from the Bush administration.

To the Border Patrol agents stationed in Yuma Sector, there is no debate. To them, the fence is a success story. From a Vietnam War-vintage Huey helicopter, pilot Chad Smith points across the border to Mexico’s Highway 2 and then to the barriers that help stop illegal immigrants from making a sprint into southern Arizona.

“You can see the triple-layer fencing,” Smith tells us as he lowers the helicopter and hovers over what was once a major crossing point for illegal immigrants and drug smugglers. “Steel fence right on the border, the pedestrian fence about 90 feet north of that, and then the chain-link fence with the barbed wire.”

The fence has three layers in areas where there is an urban neighborhood on the Mexican side. Smith is among those who say their flights are less hectic now because while you can still clearly see the trails in the sand and in some hilly areas below, there is considerably less traffic.

“I’ve flown before and come back and had 70-plus [illegal immigrants logged in a tracking book],” Smith said. ” I know guys who have gone on a flight and come back with 100-plus illegals in their logbook. Now it is in single digits, typically.”

It is a fascinating view from above: Old trails in some places, and the remnants of newly placed white sandbags in others.

“It forms a pretty good bridge for them to drive across.” Smith says of the sandbags. When they are spotted from above, Border Patrol agents on the ground are called in to destroy the makeshift crossings.

Congress in 2006 — with then-Sen. Barack Obama’s support — authorized nearly $3 billion for 670 miles of fencing stretching from California to Texas. There are more lights, sensors and cameras, and there are also more agents like Mike Lowrie driving patrols and chasing tips called in from colleagues monitoring the camera feeds at the Yuma Sector headquarters.

Standing alongside the steel barrier at a point in which there is just one layer of fencing, Lowrie shakes his head when told that some in Washington want to stop additional construction in other areas.

“This used to be a very high-trafficked area, and now it is not,” Lowrie told us.

Asked to define “high traffic,” Lowrie says, “In the Yuma Sector, we would get about 800 a day. Now, 25 maybe, or 10.”

Nodding toward the barrier, he continued: “Numbers don’t lie. We didn’t have it three years ago, and we were getting massive numbers of illegal entries. We have it now, and we don’t.”

But there are voices on both extremes of the immigration debate that say the role of the fence is exaggerated, or that say the barrier’s benefit in slowing illegal traffic is offset by other costs.

Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, whose tough stance against illegal immigrants has earned him global media coverage, says the fence is fine, but: “We just arrested 150 in the past 14 days. They’re still coming.”

And Father John Herman, a Roman Catholic priest whose Spanish language Masses are packed with illegal immigrants, blames the fence for more risky crossings in less-populated desert areas.

“We know that the way enforcement has gone has driven many people into the desert and caused more deaths. Needless deaths. If we could only get together and work for comprehensive immigration reform.”

Reporting from Guanajuato, Mexico — Once upon a time, there was a city where people came from far and wide to kiss.

The place was blessed with gold and silver, but its kissing legend, passed down like an heirloom, made it rich beyond measure.

It tells of a fair maid named Ana who fell in love with Carlos, a poor miner who lived across a narrow alley. The young lovers met on their balconies, stretching across the tiny gap to kiss in the moonlight.

But their love was star-crossed: Ana’s father forbade the romance and threatened to kill his daughter if he discovered the lovers together again. The next night, he caught them and, true to his warning, stabbed Ana with a dagger. Dying, Ana reached out and Carlos kissed her hand — the couple’s final kiss.

The children of this city have learned this lovers’ saga by heart and told it over and over to the hopeless romantics who come to see the spot, known as the Alley of the Kiss, and to share a good-luck kiss there.

So it came as a terrible shock to people here last month when word spread that the city’s leaders had issued an edict: Kissing in public was forbidden. Violators would be punished.

The news set off a storm over smooching that, weeks later, still has tongues wagging in picturesque Guanajuato, a mining town in central Mexico — and reveals a lot about the ways of Mexico, where you don’t need to get a room to express your love for each other. Like any good Valentine’s Day story, this one ends with a kiss.

The affair blew up in January, when Guanajuato’s City Council, led by the socially conservative National Action Party, or PAN, approved an ordinance on public behavior to replace a 32-year-old law. The ordinance tackled problems such as unlicensed street vendors and jaywalking. But it also targeted offensive language and “obscene touching.”

The mayor, Eduardo Romero Hicks, was asked what sort of public act would be punishable. He said the law would ban agarrones de olimpiada, which translates roughly as “Olympic fondling.” (In an interview later, he explained that this meant “fondling far beyond the norm . . . extreme eroticism in public places.”)

Garden-variety kissing, the mayor said, was never the target.

But leftist opponents depicted Romero and his PAN colleagues as latter-day inquisitors bent on imposing strict morals on the rest of Guanajuato, a tranquil town with cobblestone streets and hillside homes painted in eye-popping hues of orange, pink and electric blue.

The outcry was swift. Protesters gathered in front of City Hall to kiss en masse. The news media got into the act, and pretty soon Romero and his city were at the center of an unflattering national controversy. A satirical video posted on YouTube played a familiar cumbiacumbia-style tune with reworked lyrics and depicted Romero in a priest’s collar. One editorial cartoon showed a couple kissing in a bird cage suspended by a fixture shaped to spell “PAN.”

It mattered little that the mayor announced within days that the measure would be suspended. All of Mexico seemed ready to take to the ramparts in defense of a treasured institution: the kiss.

“The attitude toward kissing is a good thermometer of the tolerance of a society,” columnist Federico Reyes Heroles wrote in the Reforma newspaper. He said trying to limit public kissing was like outlawing miniskirts — the stuff of totalitarian countries. “Eros is part of life,” he wrote.

In liberal Mexico City, officials have rallied to the cause of the kiss by summoning residents to a massive Valentine’s Day kiss-in on the main plaza. Organizers are hoping for thousands of kissers at today’s event, perhaps enough to land a spot in the Guinness World Records book.

In unveiling the kiss-athon, the city’s tourism secretary, Alejandro Rojas Diaz Duran, appeared to toss a dart in Guanajuato’s direction by pointing out that PAN members were welcome to join in. He said Mexico City “has always been the example of what Mexican society’s values should be.”

If so, public kissing would be high on the list. Compared with the United States, Mexico is a very smoochy place. Mexicans of all stripes kiss each other on the cheek when saying hello and goodbye. Children and parents slobber over each other with abandon. Even strangers merit a kiss; Americans might be taken aback by the Mexican custom of kissing someone on the cheek when being introduced.

Take a walk through many public parks in Mexico City and it can feel as though you’ve stumbled onto Lovers’ Lane, with couples in tight embrace on wrought-iron benches or entwined on the grass beneath shade trees. The capital’s vast and woodsy Chapultepec Park is so well known as a make-out zone that it has a racy nickname: Chapul-tetrepo, tetrepo, the last part of which can be translated as, “I climb you,” as one would a tree.

It’s not only teens locking lips on the street; middle-aged couples also are given to public displays, sometimes with surprising urgency. Making out in the park avoids the prying eyes of siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles who form the typical extended Mexican family. And there is an overall expressiveness that sets Mexicans apart from the northern neighbors.

“We’re more romantic. We show our feelings,” said Dulce Nancy Gonzalez, a 25-year-old doctor who on a recent day accompanied her boyfriend to the steps of the Alley of the Kiss for a lucky smooch. Tradition holds that kissing on the third step brings 15 years of good luck.

“It’s not hard for us to show our feelings,” Gonzalez said after she and her boyfriend of three weeks shared several kisses of the sort you’d never plant on grandma. “For us, it’s harder to hide them.”

In that spirit, Guanajuato’s leaders are adopting an “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach. Having shelved the controversial ordinance for more review, Romero has gone all the way, declaring his city the “Capital of the Kiss.”

Officials are hanging banners and printing postcards that celebrate various flavors of kissing (all G-rated and mostly showing family situations). Merchants are reportedly working on the recipe for a margarita-type drink that would be called the beso, Spanish for “kiss.”

Guanajuato’s residents have come to view the noisy affair as a cautionary tale about the futility of trying to lasso romance. Or the silliness of politicians. Or both.

On a recent day, Jorge Garcia and Vanessa Atzmuller, teens in matching white hoodies, stretched across the table of a sidewalk cafe near City Hall. They met halfway, touching lips softly, the way Ana and Carlos might have.

This time, they all lived happily ever after.