I’ve always been fascinated by flying kites, especially the powerful ones. As a kid, I had ‘stacker’ kites where you could join several together to amplify their strength. My friends and I used to jump over large haystacks, sometimes not landing too well, but it was exhilarating to harness the wind’s power that way.
Later in life, I developed an obsession with kitesurfing, which has since become less intense, but I still enjoy the thrill of being pulled across the water by a kite. I no longer feel the need to do it whenever the conditions are right, but the passion remains.
This led me to enjoy watching the kite season in Jaipur during a visit (my honeymoon) a few years back. There was something mesmerizing about seeing the kids flying their colourful kites high in the sky. It’s such a simple pleasure and seemingly quite pointless, but it’s captivating to me, and I find it calming to watch and participate whenever possible.
In Bali, kites dominate the skies over Sanur (where I live with my family now) whenever it’s windy enough. March to October marks the season where the wind turns onshore, bringing not only fresher air with less humidity and lower temperatures but also stronger winds with a thermal kick. This phenomenon is caused by the volcanoes and other geothermal effects of cooler air meeting warmer air.
I have bought four kites so far: three smaller ones and a huge one designed to look like an eagle. It’s a couple of meters in both directions—top to bottom and side to side, to give you some perspective. The goal was to share my love of kites with my 3-year-old son, but he’s not quite there yet in terms of enjoying simple pleasures without a tangible goal or instant gratification! He wasn’t interested in the smaller kites, and I was too worried the big one might be too powerful, so I hadn’t tried it out.
The other day, I decided to go solo to the rice fields near our house with the ‘big eagle’ and fly it as high as I could. Local kids in the fields were also flying kites, and I was greeted with curious looks, probably since I clearly had no real idea of how to fly this brand-new kite. After fumbling with the setup, I asked a couple of kids for their help, and they willingly obliged. I was soon surrounded by these kids who set about getting the knots on my lines tied correctly for launch and creating a spool for the line from a discarded piece of wood.
I gave these kids the ‘honours’ of launching the kite, and up it flew, higher and higher into the sky before they passed control to me. The line was like thick fishing line and extremely long, and due to my lack of skill, I initially let the kite pull the line through my hands, which burnt them, before learning to release sections of the line intermittently to gain height.
I’ve got to say the feeling was incredible, seeing the ‘big eagle’ soaring into the air, but within a relatively short time, I realized there was much more skill to flying a kite well and getting it high into the sky than just releasing sections of the line.
You have to check the angle of the kite, for example, pulling the line to the left and right and releasing the line at the right time, or the kite will veer left and right towards the ground. Or stall and drop uncontrollably—when things go wrong flying a kite, they go wrong fast!
It’s much harder than I had assumed, and that’s a big part of why it’s so enjoyable—it’s a skill that isn’t easy to master, but like with anything of this sort, that makes it all the more satisfying when you do it well.
With a single-line kite, subtle movements are translated into required responses from your kite—it’s not like a two-line kite where it’s ‘pull the left line to go left’ and vice versa.
Another unexpected benefit of kite flying is it’s the first time I’ve ever felt really part of the local community, albeit just for a short time. The kids were so helpful; we exchanged names, and they seemed genuinely thrilled that a bulé like myself was interested in one of their pastimes.
They helped me so much with my kite that the thought crossed my mind that I should give them something—so often we bulé think (or I do at least) that any service, even that of help and kindness, requires money to be exchanged. That (paying) would have ruined the moment for me and I’m sure for them too, and I resolved instead to go back next time with a gift of some sort, which I will.
All in all, kite flying is the perfect way to feel part of the local community in much the same way as engaging in any sport is, and I’d highly recommend getting a kite (perhaps one smaller than mine!) and heading to the nearest open spot and enjoying what is a national pastime (with good reason) for so many Indonesian people. It’s a great way to feel like you belong in a real sense.
Tune in here for next week’s ‘An Englishman in Bali’ series.
To my surprise, I learned a lot of new things from this post.