This year, I decided to do something meaningful and take the children close to me my young neighbors and their friends on a trip to the perya. Some of them had never been, and others only watched from afar in previous years, so I knew this simple gesture could bring them unforgettable memories.
The moment I mentioned the plan, the kids could hardly contain their excitement. They kept asking questions about what time we would leave, what rides we would try, and if they could have cotton candy. I coordinated with their parents to make sure everyone had permission to go, and I promised I’d take care of them. We agreed to go in the late afternoon, just before sunset, so the heat wouldn’t be too harsh and we could enjoy the glowing lights of the perya as they lit up the town plaza. As the group of eager kids gathered at our meeting spot, their faces were glowing with excitement, all dressed and ready, chattering nonstop about the adventure ahead.
When we arrived at the perya, their eyes widened with amazement. The colorful lights, the flashing signs, the loud festive music it was overwhelming in the best way possible. The first ride we tried was the carousel, a gentle way to ease into the fun. The younger kids rushed to pick their favorite horses, holding on tight as the ride began to spin. There were big smiles, lots of waving, and some shy laughter from the ones riding for the very first time. It was beautiful to witness how something so simple could bring so much happiness.
After the carousel, we headed straight to the coin toss booth, where the kids each took turns trying to land coins into small colored dishes. Even without major prizes, the joy was in the challenge. Every near-hit brought cheers, and every miss just made them try again with more determination. One of the boys managed to win a tiny stuffed toy after landing his coin just right, and he proudly showed it off to the others like it was a major achievement.
Then came one of the most thrilling parts of the night the mini rollercoaster. At first, some of the younger kids hesitated, nervous about the loud sounds and quick turns. But after a little encouragement and the promise that we’d be riding together, they bravely climbed in. The ride started slow and then picked up speed, causing a mix of screams and laughter that echoed through the plaza. When it ended, they were all breathless and giggling, asking if they could go again. One of the girls clutched her stomach and said, “Grabe, naay kilig sa tiyan!” Everyone burst out laughing.
Next, we stopped by the shooting game booth, where players used toy rifles to aim at tin cans or balloons. The older boys were especially excited for this part, gripping their rifles and squinting one eye like they were in a movie. With each pop of a balloon or crash of a tin can, the kids shouted in triumph. I helped the smaller ones hold the gun steady, and even when they missed, they were smiling ear to ear. One boy won a plastic whistle and a packet of candy, which he generously shared with the others.
We took a break from the rides to enjoy some classic perya snacks. I bought them all cotton candy, kwek-kwek, banana cue, and ice cream. The kids sat along the benches, licking their treats, some with sticky fingers and sugar on their faces, but too happy to care. There was something so heartwarming about seeing them enjoy food that’s usually considered a luxury for some of their families. One child looked up at me mid-bite and said, “Ate, this is the best day ever.” That simple sentence made everything worthwhile.
Before we wrapped up our night, the kids asked to revisit a few favorites, so we went for one more round on the rollercoaster and played a quick game of ring toss. Though none of them won the giant teddy bear prize, they didn’t mind. Even the smallest toys they won a plastic ring, a paper fan, a balloonwere treated like treasures. They showed them off to each other with pride, swapping and sharing them like prized possessions. It wasn’t about how big or fancy the reward was; it was about the fun, the laughs, and the feeling of being cared for.
As the night grew darker and the lights of the perya shone even brighter, I gathered the kids to start heading home. They were tired but still buzzing with stories. Along the walk back, they talked over each other, recalling their favorite parts of the night. “Nakadaug ko!” one boy shouted. “Ang ride murag eroplano!” said another. I smiled the whole way home, knowing that this day would stay with them for a long time.
Taking the kids to the perya wasn’t a grand gesture, but it reminded me how powerful simple joys can be especially when shared with those who don’t always get the chance to experience them. It was a day full of smiles, laughter, and connection. The perya might just be a once-a-year event, but the happiness it brought to those kids will echo far beyond the fiesta. For them, it wasn’t just a ride or a game it was a memory, and I’m grateful I got to be part of it