Blog #8 Disneyland
Name: White Dreadlocks.
Location: Zhenjiang China (FUCKING STILL: No passport addition)
Date: 09/07/2017
Occupation: So fucking unemployed it hurts.
Dear the internet,
Disneyland Shanghai in June is fucking warm. I mean impending heat-stroke warm, drumstick lollipop warm, protect the elderly and vulnerable warm. Disneyland was warm and I wore jeans.I’m pretty sure I lost half my body weight in sweat and gained it back in adorable mickey-mouse shaped ice-creams. The water-rides were full all day. At one point I think I saw a mirage.
The thing is though, the place is kinda magic with it’s otherworldly-ness. All the shops look like a quaint 30s town, the castle is huge and magical looking and you forget, I mean you genuinely do forget, how much Disney shaped your childhood. I was never one of those who used to do Buzzfeed quizzes about which princess I am or clutched my heart when I found the best cuddly toy in the Disney store but it really was delightful. That’s why just wandering round was lovely, taking pictures, being part of the magic, trying not to faint all the things you love about a wholesome holiday.
The queues were three hours long everywhere. We went on two rides. Now, I forget how much I love Disney but rollercoasters have, and always will be, the fucking shit. My love for rollercoasters is something I will not forget into adulthood. My grandparent’s lived a walk away from Blackpool Pleasure Beach and, being the youngest in my family, being scared of rollercoasters was not a privilege I was allowed. I was a stand-on-your-tiptoes kid and a queue up five times for the pepsi max, kid. My brother and sister trained me in how to stand tall with your shoes on the floor still so you didn’t look like you were on tiptoes. But the thing about China is, it’s pretty populated. So we had to be choosy.
I do not regret my choice. Jack Sparrow is my idol. I love him. I love his chaotic neutral ways and how he doesn’t give a shit and he seems so clumsy and confused but knows exactly what he’s doing all the freaking time. My first confirming, queer experience was when I was at a Disney-Night in the uni club dressed as Jack Sparrow. I blamed the lesbian sex on all the rum I drank. I continued to drink rum regularly. He is a fictional hero of epic proportions and that fucking boat ride... it’s honestly pretty good. The effects are amazing, it was creepy and scary and entertaining in all the right ways. The two hour wait was worth it. All hail Captain Jack. (Should I post a picture from all my times as Captain Jack? Fuck it. Might as well. My generic pirate selfies could use some love.)
But again, it’s happening! My posts are getting too long and no one really gives a shit about my time at Disneyland. There were no hilarious anecdotes on this day. It was just a good time. We got home fine, the hostel was good, it was all pretty cheap considering. I’d go if I were you. Just go. You might as well. It’s the most magical place on earth.
Lots of Love, White Dreadlocks.
Travelling Quote of the Day: It’s a small world, after all, if you trick some company into buying your plane tickets and then ditch them to do an MA.
