Mugna is devise, concoct, contrive, fabricate and an amusement park.

In our place  we call it "perya." But ever since I studied in Iligan City and got to know the place through the arduous  years of college education I now call it "mugna." The first time I heard the words I couldn't make out what it means albeit the literal English translation. In  my Bisaya, mugna means devise, concoct or contrive or even fabricate. In Iligan, when jeepney barkers shout at the top of their lungs the controversial yet popular word they mean amusement park.

And to the amusement park we went. It's quite amazing how a vacant lot during most days of the year turns into a place laden with so many make-shift shops and boutiques clad with hundreds of people who seem to remain undecided as to which pirated DVD would they buy, or which henna tattoo design would look good on them. As for us, we were captivated by the hats and bags made from abaca fiber and in our zeal we    took photos wearing them. (Clearly, the consent of the owner is out of the question  when our group is so bent on  having our photograph taken. That rule goes without exception.)

Don't look for me. I'm not there.

And of course, who could forget the rides? They're obviously close to dilapidated compared to the famous (and sometimes infamous) rides of big amusement parks like Enchanted Kingdom or Star City but  still they beget excitement and the occasional shrill of mixed terror and longing to indulge thyself. (Ha, I imagined myself unable to restrain a jump.) There are, in fairness, a considerable  number of rides. Although some are unexciting, and other highlights scientifically uninviting (headless lady, to see is to believe. Gah!), some still stood out from plain eyesight. They name them Galactica and Spider (although we insist to call it Octopus.) Galactica reminds me of the physics problem about uniform circular motion that ends with the statement "riders say that they felt like being pushed to the wall. Is there really such a force?"

Experience with the Galactica told me that it pays thirty pesos to get dizzy. It also works when you want to increase the number of people you see by threefolds. However, the feeling of travelling on a bus traversing a long and winding road did not deter me from trying the ride named after the mollusk with eight tentacles. (The truth is, I've wanted to try it ever since. This time, I succeeded in doing so.)

Whopee-doo. The enjoyment is apparent. Even when subjected to high angular velocity, we still managed to contort ourselves just to pose for the camera and bathe in the photons emitted by the flash.

                                                                                     

Now who would deny Iliganons and non-Iliganons alike to find revelry in the place by forwarded bomb threats from God-knows-where? 

Happy fiesta, Iligan! Viva Sr. San Miguel! I'm deeply indebted to this event. Without it, we wouldn't have no classes for 2 days.