Wet and Wild-- Mexican Style

Few things are as exhilarating as a water slide.  You stand in line until you are almost dry, waiting for your turn.  Finally, you get to the top and a bored, albeit, hot life guard says, "Go!"  You shoot down the tube with your stomach in your throat until you land in the refreshing cool water of the pool at the bottom.

Now, imagine that there was no line, the stairs to the slide were rusty (and a little bit wobbly), the lifeguard at the top was a 40 year old Mexican, smoking a cigarette, who may or may not be able to swim, and on the way down, you catch serious air which makes you wonder if you will survive.  You do, and when you resurface, you are met with the smell of carne asada.  That is El Vergel, and it is awesome.

Of course, getting to El Vergel, whose English version website touts itself as the largest water park in "Southern California," is not without some trouble even for those of us who live south of the border.  Despite having googled directions and studied the map provided by the website, we still found ourselves following signs to a dead end in a spotty area of town.  That's when Lisa insisted that I stop and ask for directions.

The man selling floaties and swimsuits on the side of the road across from the red arrow sign pointing in the wrong direction to El Vergel, smiled and waived his arm nonchalantly when I asked.  Go down to the corner take a left.  Go to the next corner and take another left.  Then he made a dipping motion as if to indicate that you go under a bridge and you are there.

We were driving down a dirt road on one side of a canal when we spotted the water park on the other side.  That's when we realized that the man had intended for us to drive THROUGH the canal, which hosted a trickle of a river littered with old tires and other debris.  We decided to find another way.

We made our way back to the main road where we found the blue arrow signs pointing to El Vergel and followed them down another dirt road on the correct side of the canal past unmanned trash fires, piles of old trash and more floatie selling vendors.  With water slides in our view, we were not to be deterred as we drove through the iron stable style doors to the parking lot.

An attendant greeted us at our car with a grocery shopping cart to haul our stuff to a table where we would be expected to camp out for the rest of the day.  Being the Americans that we are, we had prepared for a more transient water park visit, jumping from section to section within the park, so we'd brought a stroller and only the bare essentials that we'd easily be able to haul around the park on our own backs.  Mexican guests were packing in coolers and charcoal, entering the park with their grocery carts piled high to overflowing.

After paying about $30 total for the whole family, we were admitted into the park and we quickly found our way to the kids area, which rivaled any American water park in variety of slides, water features and fun.  The kids had a blast, but Lisa quickly realized that she was pretty much the only woman walking around in a swimsuit.  Other women were either hiding out in the shade keeping their tables occupied or, if they were in the water with their kids, they were wearing shorts and t-shirts.  A bikini at El Vergel would be shocking.

While El Vergel might at first seem like any water park you might find in the U.S. with its lazy river, wave pool and water slides, a closer look reveals a Mexican flare.  Unlike an American water park, it also has a Tarzan swing, where guests can rope swing through the air, performing any sort of acrobatics before splashing into the pool, and a crazy roller, where young men (mostly), shimmy across the padded rolling bar hanging tightly by their arms and legs while their friends spin them in circles until they plunge into the pool.  We did not try either of these.

But what we did try was The Medusa.  It consisted of four tube slides (three of which weren't working) and a set of slides previously only seen at carnivals, usually undertaken with burlap sacks.  El Vergel had rigged up a PVC pipe to funnel water down the slide, and only the most daring of water park enthusiasts were man enough to try them out.  Of course, by the most manly, I mean me.  I went down them twice, catching about four feet of air after the first bump both times.  After that, I was forbidden by Lisa, who was at the bottom laughing her butt off and waiting to see if I'd permanently damaged myself.  Still, she was willing, along with one of my coworkers, to brave the "yellow tube" (of death), which was so fast that nearly everyone left woozy and confused about where they were.  Lisa went again.  My coworker did not.

All in all it was awesome-- and very Mexican.  So, thank you Mexico for teaching us how great a water park can be.  We'll be back.