Today is the National Kite Festival, and there are kites soaring in every direction! We took a public bus to a park by a lake, judging that it was probably the most festive part in town because there were so many kites flying in that area. We arrived and watched people flying kites for a while, then Birch went off to find the person selling them. An Indian man came up to us and pointed us to the tent where we could get them for free. Sure enough, there were soldiers passing them out to tourists. We later found out that . . .
the Department of Tourism was supporting the festival, and trying to encourage more tourists to come to India. The wierd thing is the Indian people have to pay for kites!
The point of the Kite Festival is to cut other people's kites. The strings are dipped in glass shards, but they are microscopic so you don't see them. So you pretty much fly the kite, wrapping your string around other people's kites to make them lose. The last person still flying a kite wins.
Birch came back in a very bad mood. He'd got his finger cut by a string, and it hurt a lot. Going over and getting his own kite, he started flying next to us. A lot of Indian guys wanted to help us fly our kites, and we were glad for the help. 'We', meaning Dad and Mom. Birch was yelling at them to go away, and I kind of understand. They were somewhat annoying and I have a feeling the only reason they were helping us was because they guessed we would give them the kite afterwards. Also, they were flying the kites as much as us, which is okay, but when you've asked them to let us have a turn three times and they've pretended to not speak english, it get's irritating.
The first time I flew the kite, it fell in the water and we had to get a new one. Dad cut down two kites! There are a lot of little boys running around, catching the broken kites. Only they aren't exactly broken, because you can re-attach the roll of string to the kite.
Finally Birch's flip-flop broke, so we left way before the end. It's really sad because Birch's shoes were of very good quality. Then we hung out in the hotel room for the remainder of the day.
The point of the Kite Festival is to cut other people's kites. The strings are dipped in glass shards, but they are microscopic so you don't see them. So you pretty much fly the kite, wrapping your string around other people's kites to make them lose. The last person still flying a kite wins.
Birch came back in a very bad mood. He'd got his finger cut by a string, and it hurt a lot. Going over and getting his own kite, he started flying next to us. A lot of Indian guys wanted to help us fly our kites, and we were glad for the help. 'We', meaning Dad and Mom. Birch was yelling at them to go away, and I kind of understand. They were somewhat annoying and I have a feeling the only reason they were helping us was because they guessed we would give them the kite afterwards. Also, they were flying the kites as much as us, which is okay, but when you've asked them to let us have a turn three times and they've pretended to not speak english, it get's irritating.
The first time I flew the kite, it fell in the water and we had to get a new one. Dad cut down two kites! There are a lot of little boys running around, catching the broken kites. Only they aren't exactly broken, because you can re-attach the roll of string to the kite.
Finally Birch's flip-flop broke, so we left way before the end. It's really sad because Birch's shoes were of very good quality. Then we hung out in the hotel room for the remainder of the day.
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