I've backpacked through 40 countries and these 9 "dangerous" places felt safer than American cities

I'll never forget stepping off the bus in Medellín for the first time. My mom had called three times that week practically begging me to reconsider. "That's where Pablo Escobar was," she kept saying, as if I hadn't already spent hours reading about the city's transformation.

But here's what actually happened: I spent two weeks wandering through neighborhoods where kids played soccer in the streets, where strangers invited me to share arepas, where I felt more at ease walking home at night than I ever did in certain parts of Los Angeles.

After backpacking through 40 countries over the past decade, I've learned something that challenges everything we're told about "dangerous" places. The world's scariest destinations, according to Western media anyway, often feel surprisingly safer than the American cities we navigate without a second thought.

Let me share nine places that completely flipped my understanding of safety and danger.

1) Medellín, Colombia

The transformation of Medellín is one of the most remarkable urban turnarounds I've witnessed anywhere. Yes, this was once the murder capital of the world. Yes, it has a dark history that can't be erased.

But walking through El Poblado or taking the metrocable up to Santo Domingo, I felt a level of community presence that's rare in American cities. People actually spend time in public spaces. Families gather in parks until late evening. The infrastructure investments have been intentional and inclusive.

Compare that to walking through certain neighborhoods in Baltimore or St. Louis after dark, where entire blocks feel abandoned, where you're constantly calculating risk based on who's around.

The difference? Medellín invested in its most marginalized communities instead of abandoning them. The cable car system isn't just transportation. It's a statement that everyone deserves connection to the city center.

2) Tehran, Iran

I've mentioned this before, but Iran remains one of the most misunderstood countries I've visited. The hospitality was overwhelming to the point of exhaustion. Strangers insisted on buying my meals, invited me to their homes, went miles out of their way to help me find my hostel.

The streets felt orderly. Public transportation was clean and efficient. I could walk anywhere at any hour without that constant vigilance I maintain in American cities.

Sure, there are legitimate concerns about government surveillance and political freedom. But physical safety? That disconnect between reputation and reality was jarring.

Walking through Tehran's Grand Bazaar at night, surrounded by families shopping and eating, I felt safer than I do in most American shopping districts after sunset.

3) Mexico City, Mexico

Mexico City gets painted with this broad brush of cartel violence and kidnappings. And yes, those things happen in Mexico. But conflating the entire country with border town violence is like judging all of America by what happens in the most dangerous neighborhoods of Chicago.

I spent three months in CDMX, mostly in Roma Norte and Condesa. The level of street life, the neighborhood culture, the casual way people moved through public spaces reminded me more of European cities than American ones.

Here's what struck me: people trusted the streets. Cafes stayed open late. Parks filled with families on weekends. The metro, despite being packed, felt safer than any American subway system I've used.

The difference comes down to community density and economic integration. When neighborhoods include all income levels, when street vendors and expensive restaurants exist on the same block, everyone has a stake in keeping spaces safe.

4) Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Sarajevo still carries visible scars from the siege in the 1990s. Buildings with bullet holes stand next to reconstructed Ottoman architecture. It's heavy history that you can't ignore.

But the city itself felt incredibly welcoming and secure. I'd walk home from bars at 2 AM through the old town without a second thought. People lingered in outdoor cafes late into the night. Solo travelers, especially women, consistently ranked it as one of the safest cities in the Balkans.

What makes the difference? Post-conflict societies often develop strong social bonds. There's collective trauma, yes, but also collective resilience. People look out for each other in ways that feel absent in American cities where we don't even know our neighbors' names.

5) Hanoi, Vietnam

The chaos of Hanoi is legendary. Motorbikes everywhere, seemingly no traffic rules, constant noise and movement. It should feel dangerous. It looks dangerous from the outside.

But that chaos has an underlying order that you learn to trust. Crossing the street becomes this weird meditation where you just walk steadily and traffic flows around you. The density creates eyes on the street. With so many people out at all hours, petty crime becomes nearly impossible.

I felt comfortable walking through any neighborhood at any time. Street food vendors operated until dawn. The sense of collective space use made everything feel accessible and monitored without feeling surveilled.

Compare that to American cities where entire neighborhoods empty out after business hours, where isolation creates vulnerability, where we drive past each other in sealed cars instead of sharing streets.

6) Bogotá, Colombia

Another Colombian city, I know. But Bogotá deserves its own recognition. The city's Ciclovía program closes down major streets every Sunday for bikers, runners, and walkers. It's not just a nice amenity. It's a statement about who cities belong to.

Like Medellín, Bogotá invested in cable car systems connecting marginalized hillside neighborhoods to the city center. They built libraries in the poorest areas. These weren't just symbolic gestures.

Walking through La Candelaria, the historic district, I saw the same mix of income levels and uses that makes neighborhoods resilient. When you can't push poor people to the periphery, when everyone shares the same infrastructure, safety becomes a collective project.

I've felt more uneasy walking through downtown Los Angeles in the middle of the day than I ever did in Bogotá after dark.

7) Amman, Jordan

Jordan sits in a region that Americans perceive as perpetually unstable. And yes, there are legitimate regional concerns. But Amman itself operates with a level of order and hospitality that caught me off guard.

The city felt structured and predictable. Police presence was visible but not oppressive. I could ask anyone for directions and they'd walk me halfway across downtown to make sure I found my destination.

What struck me was the gender balance in public spaces. Women moved through streets freely, worked in shops, sat in cafes. This wasn't some restricted, surveilled environment where safety came at the cost of freedom.

The reality is that stable, functioning Middle Eastern cities often have lower crime rates than American cities. We just don't hear about that because it doesn't fit the narrative.

8) Belgrade, Serbia

Belgrade has a reputation for being rough around the edges. Post-industrial, post-conflict, supposedly sketchy. But spending time there revealed a city with vibrant nightlife, engaged street culture, and surprisingly low crime.

The riverfront transformed into this social hub where people of all ages gathered. The old bohemian quarter, Skadarlija, stayed lively until dawn. I never once felt that American urban anxiety of constantly checking over my shoulder.

Part of it comes down to walkability. When cities are designed for pedestrians, when there's consistent foot traffic, when public spaces actually get used, they self-regulate. You don't need aggressive policing because community presence does the work.

9) Istanbul, Turkey

Istanbul straddles continents and cultures, which apparently makes it threatening in the Western imagination. But the city operates with this fascinating blend of traditional community structure and modern urban density.

I'd wander through neighborhoods where tea houses stayed open until midnight, where shop owners knew everyone who passed by, where street vendors operated with this casual trust that someone would pay eventually if they didn't have cash right then.

The tourist areas had their hustlers, sure. But the residential neighborhoods felt safer than any major American city I've experienced. Kids played outside unsupervised. Women traveled alone without harassment. Public transportation ran smoothly without the constant low-grade threat that characterizes American systems.

Conclusion

The common thread through all these places? Strong social fabric, mixed-use neighborhoods, investment in public infrastructure, and people actually using public spaces.

American cities have substituted surveillance and policing for community structure. We've segregated by income until neighborhoods lose their natural resilience. We've designed spaces for cars instead of people, creating isolation that breeds both fear and actual danger.

I'm not saying these nine places are crime-free utopias. They have problems. Some have significant political restrictions. But on the basic measure of feeling physically safe walking around? They outperformed most American cities I know.

Maybe instead of warning people about dangerous places abroad, we should ask why American cities so often fail to provide what these supposedly threatening destinations manage to create: streets where people actually want to be.