Mexico City’s Constantly Perfect Weather Is a Little Insane

sky in the df

(Actual and untouched photo of the sky in Mexico City. As it appears every single day.)

There is perhaps no better climate on the planet than right here in Mexico City. And the endless days of not-a-cloud-in-the-sky 10% humidity, 73-degree weather is becoming a little absurd for me.

For you to truly understand, it requires hyperbole (or a visit to La Capital — right Martie and Bob?). But first let me set something straight: I am not complaining. It’s the opposite: I’m getting hopelessly spoiled. So here we go….

It’s like I live in one of those biosphere domes, a la The Simpsons Movie. I often think: Someone must be controlling this climate, because it’s as climate controlled as any non-controlled climate possibly could be.

Every few weeks, when you think “some rain might be nice,” someone turns up the moisture dial, and a breezy little shower sprinkles down. And every few months, when you think “a real thunderstorm would be cool, if only so I don’t forget what those are like” you’ll hear a little rustle and rain, and a thunderclap, and the trees shake, and you’re pleased. But before you get too annoyed, the dials are promptly turned back to absolute perfection.

Ahhhhhh…..we never, ever need an air conditioner — nor a heater. I can walk around in flip-flops, jeans and a sweatshirt and feel neither hot nor cold. The sun is always shining, but because of all the trees (which are alive year-round) not too much. I rarely sweat. And now that “winter” is over here, I rarely shiver. (My chief complaint a few weeks ago was that it was 64 degrees.) Some people still find something to complain about: the pollution. It can be bad, but it is not any worse than New York City, which was f’ing gross in the summer.

Rather, the skies here are some of the bluest and most beautiful I have ever seen (one of my travel books agrees, noting “now that smog-measure control are in force, the city once again can claim weeks with some of the most azure skies in the world). Yeah, azure. So azure they look fake.

Here’s an explanation why it’s so perfectly pleasant down here, even though we’re past the Tropic of Cancer, and in a country more often associated with balmy, tropical weather. (If I want that weather, I can have that, with a four-hour bus ride to Acapulco.)

I am not the first to photograph the pure blueness.

And now I really, really understand this song:

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