Sarah in Sevilla: Discovering my inner child at Isla Mágica
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    Groupon Sevilla has done some wonderful things for me in Spain, such as facilitating “romantic” dinners with my girlfriends, or making me get a manicure, but the best so far has been offering half priced tickets to Isla Mágica, Sevilla’s very own amusement park. I’d never thought that roller coasters would play a part in my study abroad experience, but how could we say no to 11 Euro passes to rides like “The Anaconda”?

    Karlee, Meredith and I picked a beautiful Saturday (my last Saturday in Sevilla, actually) to see if an amusement park within walking distance of the city center would be worth our while. I’d looked up directions online, and Isla Mágica was only four and a half miles from where Karlee and I usually meet to walk to school. The 90-degree weather and relentless sun, as well as a run-in with a town of homeless men in tents made the walk a little challenging at times, but eventually we encountered Isla Mágica. And magical it was.

    We ran to the first ride we encountered, “The Anaconda.” It was a water ride, and after walking almost 5 miles in the burning sun, getting soaked sounded great. We were all really excited, until we were 10 people away from getting in a floating log. Meredith admitted to being terrified of all rides, even the tame water ones. We convinced her to get in the log, letting her sit in the middle. However, as we splashed down a mini dip in the river path, we realized it was very fortunate that we were in Spain, where few little kids speak English, as Meredith burst our eardrums with some choice four-letter words. However, as soon as we got off (after getting drenched by some big plunges and teenage Spanish boys with water guns), Meredith was ready to go again.

    However, we decided to check out some of the other rides. The first one that we unanimously wanted to ride was the kiddy roller coaster. We stood in line among four and five years olds psyching themselves up to brave the two mini drops in the train cars. We laughed it off, figuring this would be a good way to boost Meredith’s roller coaster confidence before attempting to get her on bigger ones. We climbed into the cars, my knees almost not allowing the safety bar to reach my lap. As the roller coaster climbed up the hill four feet off the ground, we were surprised by the speed and surprise dips it threw at us. Meaning we screamed more loudly than all of the four year olds put together. But I’m going to attribute that to our larger lung capacity.

    A little ashamed by our screaming display on the train roller coaster, we discovered a ride that we figured we could handle with no embarrassing outbursts. It was called “Las Llamas,” and solely consisted of riding a mechanical llama around a circular track, which had lots of orange trees and other blossoming bushes everywhere (we were still in Sevilla, even if we were in an amusement park). We figured it was an ideal picture taking opportunity with little chance of any of us getting scared, so we promptly hopped in line. We made it to the front, very proud of our plan. But then the ride operator came over to us and told us that the ride was just for children. We looked around, and sure enough, four year olds surrounded us again. But unlike the train ride, this time the ride sign also stated that adults only were allowed on the ride if accompanied by a child under 12. We all turned bright red, and Meredith squeaked out “well it looked really fun!” before we bolted away, having to push through many judging four year old eyes.

    Thoroughly humiliated by getting kicked off of the llama ride (I didn’t know that amusement parks ever discriminated against people for being too old), we schemed about stealing some Spanish children to ride it with us, but figured it probably wasn’t worth the trouble we’d inevitably encounter. So we went to another water ride. The line was full of children again, but we double-checked the ride sign, which said nothing about requiring child partners to ride. We figured that it must be pretty tame since so many little kids were riding it, but we didn’t want Meredith to wear out her voice too early in the day. However, when we got into the big raft with two couples (I awkwardly shared a bench with one PDA-happy couple for a few minutes until I made Karlee and Meredith squish on theirs to let me in), we were surprised again by how wild the ride was. Our raft spun around like the Disney World teacups, but didn’t splash us very much. That is, until we approached the waterfall. We continued spinning, and I prayed that my side of the raft would avoid the deluge of water that was coming. No such luck. I went straight towards it, and although Meredith pulled my upper half onto her lap, my butt got the full force of the roaring water. The sun had started to go down by the time we got out of the drenched raft, so drying wasn’t in the cards for me. I waddled around the park the rest of the evening and my soggy shorts clung to my backside in very unflattering ways. The plus side of that was that I received fewer catcalls. I guess nobody is attracted to the girl who looks like she wet her pants.

    Since I was a little cranky about my dripping behind, we decided to take a break from rides and check out a show about Christopher Columbus that Meredith’s host mom had recommended. We’d seen the advertisement earlier for “Señor Cristobal,” which we assumed meant Columbus. We found a backdrop of a ship when we entered the “corral de comedias,” so we knew me must be right. However, we were a little skeptical about the quality of an amusement park show, so we sat near the back in case we wanted to sneak out partway through. But as the lights dimmed I heard an ominous creak behind me, so I turned around to see an Isla Mágica worker close the only door and bolt it shut. We were locked in. Uhoh. My stomach dropped a little bit as I wondered why they felt the need to shut us in. I soon found out as we watched the most horrendous theatrical representation in the world. Señor Cristobal was not actually Cristobal Colón, but an alcoholic doctor who wanted to get married, then got married but had troubles in bed with his wife, who cheated on him with the same actor in about five different costumes in the span of three minutes. When it finally ended, it felt like it lasted a lifetime, and I was shocked that it was still light out, and that my shorts were still sopping, until I looked at my phone to see that only fifteen minutes had passed.

    We returned to “The Anaconda” one more time before heading out, since it was by far the best ride and none of us really cared if we got wet again. We decided to break all of the park rules that the Spaniards around us were for once. So we splashed each other and took pictures of ourselves in the boat. Our pictures ended up being adorable, if a little blurry since we rushed to take them in between the waterfalls, and we all got drenched this time, making our five-mile walk home a little squelchy, but completely worth it. I had no idea child roller coasters in Spain could be so fun, even if we didn’t get to ride the llamas.

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