today we offer you the latest from our journey to an entirely different front, consigning the sights and stories of passionate and fierce conflict to the flames of our mediated potlatch.

after surviving a trip to the other side of the world, the secret police of pakistan, and the al-qaeda snipers of tora bora, what was there to do?

Never to skip a beat, we undertook a new operation, one requiring heavy mobilization and a southerly relocation to a new front. Compelled we were to travel several days by train in steerage class, that we might make the front lines of the three day International Kite [Fighting] Festival at Ahmedebad, in the Gujurat state of India. Dancing, diving, and spinning, thousands upon thousands of kites take to the sky to engage in manic aerial duels to the death. After acquiring the necessary effects of war, we set out to join the great game occuring all throughout the sky.

There are problems with being an American at the International Kite Festival in India. On the streets during a normal day, each kilometer walked averages ten to twenty encounters with a new "best friend." Doing something completely unanticipated, like joining in on the drama and action of the 2002 Kite Festival, subjected us to intensive and sustained mob attention. Unable to contain their desire to help, correct, and in any way involve themselves, the Gujurati hoards unintentionally spoiled any chances of both enjoying the Zen of Kite Flying and The Art of War.

kiting activity was to be found everywhere. in a pre-nintendo society, children learn concentration and hand-eye coordination another way

all over ahmedebad the string producing industry was in crunch mode. under the bridge on the dry river bed, the cotton is stretched and twisted into basic string form

once string, it is coated in different types of resin - determining the color, strength, and cutting power

next it is wound up before being rewound onto a string delivery unit (as held by child)

all over the city

he really got it going to impress us

that evening, we wandered many bazaars and prowled many alleys before finding the right shop.

no, you must buy the BIG kite (we didn't)

the two to three rupees a kite was about all our post-afghanistan operational budget allowed. we balked at the several hundred required to get the preferred string, instead opting for the 10 rs. roll the muslim men shook their heads at and told us was for children. on the street, many people laughed openly at our string, calling it a toy - soon we were hiding our string in shame.

locked and loaded - can you feel the magic?

Our first attempt. the festival being an official holiday, the crowds were out in force. pawing at us, being too "helpful" and making distracting conversation. "what name?" "what country?" i told them england because it seems to excite them slightly less then "USA" and avoids question #3 - "what happened to trade center?"

This first attempt was also sabotaged by the location of our flight operations base; a largish dirt field. The density of organic landmines (detail enhanced) rendered maneuvering while simultaneously gazing skywards a perilous undertaking.