Disneyland remains forever young

The last time I went to Disneyland I got to drive the jeep in the Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom ride. Unfortunately, my family disobeyed instructions and looked into the eye of the idol, so we were condemned to a terrifying adventure before finally returning safely to the loading dock.

The sense of triumph I derived from what was a predictable outcome far exceeded its intrinsic worth and makes me ask why I, at 55, cared about such a thing or was even doing it.

There seems to be only one answer - "Disney magic", the secret ingredient within Disneyland that makes us behave differently

On entering we seem able to discard the protective trappings of age and status to become the same as every other "child" in the park. The constraints of behaviour that society imposes on us as adults no longer apply, so it's just fine to cuddle mice, ducks, dogs and fairytale characters.

Disneyland, soon to be 50 itself, is probably the ultimate leveller of age and status. Where else would adults wear mouse ears, reindeer antlers or hats with flashing lights? Elsewhere they may be over the top, but in the park they seem just right.

My parents first took me to Disneyland in 1981. I was 35-years-old and accompanied by my husband and our two daughters, aged 4 and 6. For a family from New Zealand to be in America, and at Disneyland, was the fulfilment of a dream. It did not disappoint us. We were captivated from the moment we walked through the turnstiles and caught our first glimpse of the turrets and spires of Sleeping Beauty's castle.

Our two little princesses, in identical navy dresses with bright red strawberries on the front, stood absolutely still, wide-eyed in awe at this amazing sight.

As adults, we realise that the castle is really quite small, and that it is the strategic placement that gives it that larger-than-life look - but, as believers, we see a magic castle for a magic kingdom.

Walking down Main Street for the first time was like entering another world. With its brick streets, pastel-coloured building facades and enticing shop window displays, this promised so much. Delicious aromas wafted around us.

It looked so different from many of our New Zealand towns, with their somewhat tacky main streets where scraps of paper blow about in swirls of dust. On Main Street, everything was squeaky clean, colours brighter and clearer, everyone was smiling, and there wasn't a scrap of litter to be seen.

The way in which Disneyland's Main Street influenced a generation makes fascinating reading in Beth Dunlop's book Building a Dream - the Art of Disney Architecture. Many towns across America revamped their Main Streets to look more like Disney's unashamedly sentimental version, and found pride in the achievement. Disney had created something that was better than real life, which real life then imitated.

On that first visit we went from ride to ride as if powered by magic pixie-dust. Well-known stories came to life and their characters assumed a new reality.

A Disney ride is more than just a ride. It is part of an imaginatively told story, complete with elaborate and realistic special effects. Flying high over London in a ghostly galleon in Peter Pan and seeing the landmarks below was an unforgettable experience. There are deliberate touches of whimsy to amuse those in the know.

As an inside joke, the design team planted images of Mickey Mouse - usually a large circle and two smaller ones - in many of the attractions and features in the park. While these Hidden Mickeys were created for insider amusement, the word got out and now young and old Disneygoers look earnestly for those elusive three circles. The thrill of finding a Hidden Mickey and becoming part of that inner-magic kingdom defies belief - or even logic.

Thrills that are built into rides are in keeping with the ride's theme and appear non-threatening, allowing us to develop a sense of trust in their safety.

Space Mountain, full of unexpected sharp turns in inky blackness, is my favourite. I handle it like an expert, but were I to see that ride without the cover of darkness I might never go on it again.

On that first visit we debated whether we dared ride Big Thunder Mountain's runaway mine train. We did and loved it. Seventeen years later we were riding it no-hands. There are bigger and scarier thrill rides in many of the world's amusement parks, yet I doubt that any will capture the imagination, love and loyalty of successive generations, as Disneyland has done. This is the Disney magic at work.

I have some difficulty accepting Disney's California Adventure as being "real Disney". Although the park is themed to demonstrate various facets of Californian life, the rides - while big on thrills - lack the charm of Disneyland.

That's not to say that riding the California Screaming rollercoaster, white-knuckled hands gripping the safety bar, hair streaming out behind and eyes popping is not terrifyingly thrilling. But is it Disney?

We have now visited Disneyland seven times and each time have noted an interesting phenomenon. Our daughters revert to being 4 and 6, we manage to lose 20 years or so as soon as we exit the Santa Ana freeway and spy the Matterhorn on the horizon.

Once into the park, breathless little-girl voices reappear along with the urge to re-ride all the old favourites.

We have been to the park in all seasons, including Christmas. This has always been my favourite time of year and the park's decorations, entertainment and atmosphere reinforce that Christmas message of goodwill.

As we watched Goofy attempt to light the tree at the Disneyland Hotel, with disastrous results, the whole audience laughed. We should never underestimate the power of laughter in bringing people together.

We have always stayed within sight of the park. Our big splurge at the Disneyland Hotel provided the stuff of which memories are made.

As fans of Mickey and his friends we delighted in the hotel's attention to detail, with Mickey featuring everywhere. And the wakeup call from the mouse himself left us in no doubt that we were his personal guests.

Walt said: "I only hope that we don't lose sight of one thing - that it was all started by a mouse." For our family, the Mouse is synonymous with Disneyland.

On each visit we have noted changes. Some of the old familiar rides have gone to rest in Yesterland. Some of these - such as the Skyway to Fantasyland, the submarine voyage, and America Sings - we have mourned as if we had lost old friends. Others, like the unreliable Rocket Rods, were lucky to last as long as they did. In 1981, Tomorrowland showed us a glimpse of the future.

Today it still does. But much of that earlier future has become reality and so the vision has moved on, as we have changed.

Walt Disney said: "Disneyland will never be completed as long as there is imagination left in the world." Change is inevitable in a place where imagination knows no bounds, but the certainty that some things will last forever does help when it's time to leave.

Our last visit, when I got to drive Indy, was to celebrate my husband's 60th birthday. That seemed a bit strange to some of our friends but to us there seemed no better place to celebrate a milestone birthday than in a place where you never grow old.

Walt Disney wanted his guests to feel that they had left their daily lives behind and entered another world. It's obviously escapism but I don't think that's a bad thing.

We all have times when we need to escape from our everyday lives. We need to be able to dream our dreams.

If Disneyland lets us enter a world where dreams have no limit - and may even come true - then it has served its purpose. It is magic.

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you
If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do

- From Pinocchio, lyrics by Ned Washington