Our make-believe Disneyland

For many Filipino kids, Disneyland is a faraway dream—an unreachable fantasy of colors, characters, and magic. But here, in the heart of our towns and cities, the perya offers its own kind of wonder. The air hums with the scent of sizzling street food, the chatter of vendors, and the rusty creaks of old carnival rides. It’s not the polished perfection of an amusement park, but in its imperfection lies its charm.

Tonight, beneath the glow of makeshift lights, this is our happiest place on earth.

The air is thick with smoke—both from the belching traffic nearby and the simmering skewers of fishball and kwek-kwek frying on the corner. The scent of grilled meat mixes with the sweetness of cotton candy, and the aroma curls through the night like a quiet invitation. Somewhere in the distance, the familiar hum of the chubibo spins lazily, its lights flashing like fireflies on a humid summer evening. It's no Disneyland, but to the kids swarming through the perya tonight, this is magic in its truest form.

Growing up, I always dreamt of Disneyland. Who wouldn't? The colors, the characters, the impossible wonder of it all. But in reality, it was the perya—a carnival woven into the very fabric of our towns and cities—that truly captured my heart. Tonight, I’m not the only one. Under the bright lights, you could be anyone here, the glow casting everyone in soft hues of pink and orange. This night belongs to all of us.

The street is alive with voices. Vendors call out, hawking their goods with that distinct cadence only years of practice can perfect. Ukay-ukay stalls brim with vibrant clothes, worn with stories untold, each piece waiting to be claimed by a new owner. Somewhere, a couple of students haggle over a faded jacket, probably trying to match it with the worn-out jeans they’ve just found. Their laughter breaks through the buzz, and for a moment, they forget about exams or whatever worries that school holds for them. In the perya, the mundane fades away.

You can hear the clattering of piso-piso machines, the running lights that hold your breath every time it spins, little trinkets and toys glinting under the soft glow of lights as kids huddle together in hope that one last coin might win them a prize. It's a gamble, just like life, but here in the perya, it feels like the odds are somehow kinder.

The flashing lights of the rides steal your attention. I watch as the chubibo sways gently, its bright, creaky seats filling the night with the sound of rusted metal and soft screams of joy.

There’s always something about these rides that feels more real than the polished perfection of amusement parks. There’s a rawness to the experience—no safety nets, just an old machine whirring as if powered by pure nostalgia. The kids scream as the chubibo rises, and their voices echo across the night like a promise of something greater.

Even now, with every turn of the Ferris wheel and every twirl of the carousel, I find myself still tethered to this place. Perya is where I, like countless other Filipino kids, found joy in the simplicity of things. There’s magic in knowing that for a single night, this town square, usually filled with vendors or parked tricycles, transforms into a wonderland.

For some kids, this is the closest we will ever get to Disneyland. The rides may be smaller, the games simpler, but the joy? It’s just as big, just as real. We can lose ourselves here, amidst the lights and sounds. We can be anyone we want to be: a carefree kid with pockets full of hope, a dreamer looking for something greater, a teenager simply enjoying fishball with friends.

The perya feels like freedom. The lights shine brighter here, as if competing with the stars above. And just like that, for one night, you forget about everything else. You forget about what you don’t have, and you embrace what’s in front of you—a world that exists only between dusk and dawn, where laughter echoes louder than worry.

It’s a different kind of magic, one that belongs to us.

The perya may not be Disneyland, but to the Filipino youth, it’s the happiest place on earth.