Walking through the tree fern corridor of the lizard park felt like stepping into the prelude to a Jurassic era. Green iguanas, frozen like emerald sculptures on branches, only stirred with amber eyes when I crushed the fallen leaves. As I counted the seventh chameleon at the observation deck, a small crested lizard suddenly leaped from the overhead vines into the pond, its webbed feet creating ripples reminiscent of Swan Lake. The most delightful surprise was at the feeding area—bearing dragons gently rolled mango slices with their barbed tongues, while children's hands trembled slightly as they held up lettuce leaves, as if performing an ancient ritual. As dusk warmed the red rocks like a fireplace, hundreds of lizards simultaneously turned towards the sunset, the rustling of their scales whispering, "We were survivors of the dinosaur era; now it's your countdown's turn."