“The happiest place on Earth” I could name a million gifts that have been incredibly meaningful to me: an electronic device given by my parents, a book given from my friends, or even a pair of old ballet slippers from my good cousin. However, the gift that resonated most with me and my childhood memories was my trip to Disneyland in Anaheim, California when I was seven years old. Have you ever been to Disneyland? Yes, the "happiest place on Earth", with its magical castles, princesses in cotton candy frills and parades of electric lights? Oh, and don't forget their millions of hilarious rides! Well, that trip wasn't so significant because of the number of rides I went on or the number of princess autographs I collected, but because of the sacrifices my family spent just for me to be there. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay Most people have been to Disneyland and probably went before they reached the age of six. Some children I know even ventured to this dazzling place when they were four or five years old. In my case it was different. When I was a child, I didn't have the same access to Disneyland as other kids. Why? Well, I didn't live near any Disney parks and I didn't even live in America. Instead, I was “trapped,” as my five-year-old self thought, among the lush islands of the Philippines. More specifically, I lived in the smoke-filled, traffic-clogged capital of the Philippines: Manila. In my little “world” the magic of Disney was not present except through toys or the television screen. Again, I was infatuated with Disney movies and princesses, especially Ariel from “The Little Mermaid.” These sword-wielding princesses, fairies, and warrior princes raised my expectations for “The Happiest Place on Earth.” However, as the years passed, I could only watch Disneyland from afar, through films and online videos; sometimes, if I was lucky, I dreamed of being there and meeting Aurora or Ariel. I knew my dream of going to this beautiful theme park was far from reality. My family was headed to the Philippines and has been trying to get a visa for more than a couple of years, just to venture (maybe even as a tourist) to America. But in my little heart there was a sliver of hope that we would get the visa soon and that as soon as we landed in America I would be able to visit the magical park. Soon my wish came true! After attempting more than five times (my mom made a total of thirteen attempts and I made seven attempts) to get a visa, we were approved as tourists and were scheduled to venture out by plane on March 3, 2010. I was seven and a half years old . On the drive to Manila International Airport, my heart pounded in my chest and thoughts swirled around me. Is it really true? Will I really go to America? Does this mean I can go to Disneyland? As we boarded the plane my heart beat faster and faster, almost out of my chest; and my thoughts piled up like a hurricane, his powerful “breath” imprisoned in my mind. The situation worsened when we sat in the designated seats and fastened our seat belts. For almost the entire sixteen-hour flight, my brain drifted back to the series of questions I had while driving to the Manila airport. Other than that, I would sleep. Even so, it wouldn't surprise me if I was actually dreaming about the theme park itself! Finally, our plane began its descent into the famous city of Los Angeles, and for a moment my mind was taken away from the Disney trance. It was night and.”