|Image from "Unraveling the Chicxulub Case" in Geotimes|
I tell her the impact was very close to our Merida home. I tell her you can see the outline of the crater where the town of Chicxulub now stands. Some clever people have even dubbed the spot "the end of the world." La Princesa is clearly impressed. "That is very cool," she tells me.
It is deeply gratifying to find something about our Yucatan initiative that makes the grade with La Princesa. She swears she will never visit us there.
She says Mexico gives her a headache. Too hot, too many bugs. The first and so far only time we took her there, at age 14, she gazed out the bus window at the streetscapes of weathered colonial facades on the way in to the city and proclaimed: "But.. it's.. so.. ugly." She loved the night scenes, the music, the placid dogs, the ruins (though we were crazy to go to Uxmal in the middle of the day). She loved Coke in glass bottles. Homemade corn ice cream from a cart in Santa Lucia square. It's not enough to sway her position, though.
La Princesa is 17 this month and full of her own dreams and plans for the world that beckons beyond high school. Itching already to have a place of her own. Bristling under the oppressive yoke of parents with their irritating questions and advice and monitoring. The parents have a few more years of wage slavery before they can throw off their own yoke and fritter away the winter months in Merida (though the plan is for frequent, shorter stays until then).
|Image from "The day the dinosaurs died" in Progreso Hoy|