“I have never tried that before, so I think I should definitely be able to do that.”
– Pippi Longstocking
Marjan Marinšek was the managing director of the Cultural Centre in Velenje, Slovenia. Astrid Lingren was … well, Astrid Lindgren.
Marjan and Astrid were friends.
In the late eighties Astrid brought Pippi Longstocking to Velenje – and, in line with her character, Pippi simply refused to leave. Thus every year since 1990 Velenje becomes Pippi’s town for ten days in September.
For real: Pippi is declared the Mayoress of Velenje (always by acclamation!), while the biggest children’s festival in Slovenia takes over the city.
Pika’s festival – Pippi Longstocking is Pika Nogavička in Slovene – is a huge ten days affair with all sorts of shows, concerts, recitals, competitions, workshops, and whatnot. The intrepid organisers are always looking for new things, those they had never tried before – and this year they had a beautiful idea:
Let’s make kites!
As KAP Jasa – kite team Slovenia is still the oldest, the largest, the best – and the only kite club in the country, they called us to help Pippi help kids make kites, and, wind permitting, fly some giant monsters over the Municipal playground.
The wind, like those pesky, smug, rude adults in Astrid Lindgren’s books, refused to cooperate.
But as the old saying goes, you don’t really need wind to fly kites. You need friends.
We found hundreds of friends in Velenje.
“Stop, stop, we are running out!”
“Out of what? Sticks? Tape? Thread? Paper? Tails?”
“Yes!”
Yes. If you are wondering whether we did one of our crazy, rolling, never-ending, chaotic kite workshops for kids in Velenje too, the answer is – yes, we did it again. Four workshops, no less; two on Saturday and a pair on Sunday. Three of them almost ended with the police clearing the area, because nobody wanted to hear we need a pause, and that you really can’t make kites in the dark – and because Gregor and Timotej just couldn’t say no to a big eyed little kid pleading can I make a kite too? …
The responsible adults in the team had to restrain both workshop masters, push the kids and their parents away, physically secure the boxes with kite making supplies, and scream into the frenzied kite making crowd: It’s over! It’s over! Stop!
On Sunday evening we were out of everything.
“Ruuuuuuuuuuunnnnn!!!!!”
– Ivor, to a kid
Our plan was to do both a kite workshop and a little kite festival at the same time, and the spot – the Municipal children playground – looked like we could’ve pull it off. The playground where the workshops were to be lies beneath a steep grassy cliff, and there is a vast meadow above it from where we were to let the big kites fly. A perfect geography for some good kite action – two guys handling the workshops down on the playground, two guys on the meadow flying the giant aerial monsters – especially if the wind blows from the south.
It works like clockwork every time: when we pull the kites out of their bags, “If the wind blows from the south” immediately becomes “if the wind blows”.
No true kiter ever runs with a kite. Kids run, masters don’t. Except when one really needs to. Like when you kinda promised an aerial spectacle with huge flying monsters, but the lying meteorologists got you again.
After a couple of runs – we even managed to hold the trilobite up for a minute or two (just enough for a photo to make the sponsors happy) – we realised we have a huge and cheap workforce around.
The kids.
“Ok, hold the line … Tighten the line … Now, on my mark … Ready! Set! Ruuuuuuuuuuunnnnnn!!!!!”
And the kids ran.
And ran some more.
And they screamed and laughed and rolled on the grass and let the monster eat them and ran and fell and pulled till the sun went down.
They couldn’t stop, because when a giant monster rises into the air and you hold the line, you are the pilot.
“Mom, did you see that! I am a pilot! A real pilot, I flew this giant kite!”
Of course mom saw it. And she was proud.
While the two hard working guys on the meadow were busting their asses off doing nothing much but saying “well, there is no wind, what can you do”, and “the forecast says it will start at two (three, half past four, five …) o’clock”, and “Ruuuuunnnn!!!!!”, the slackers down on the playground were enjoying the easy life of kite workshop managers.
The whole affair started innocuously enough, like every time. The supplies were gathered, the team was briefed, twe had a solid plan, he cars were filled up – two cars, as the president, the treasurer, and the secretary are not allowed to travel together in the same vehicle (and we had so much kite making stuff we’d need a van) – and we rolled easily towards Velenje, Pippi’s town.
The organizers outdid themselves and prepared the place above and beyond their call of duty. The tables were set, the kite flying area was fenced off, the playful signs erected.
And there were volunteers to help us!
Three students of pedagogy, future teachers with perfect touch for the kids and already ample experience handling hordes of unruly brats were there eagerly waiting to learn how to make kites, so they could teach. We duly obliged.
And we were off …
The first kids came, shy at first, asking softly if this is the place to make a kite. One, two, five, ten kids sat down, got the paper, the scissors, the crayons, and soon the first kites were taking shape. After some fifteen minutes a girl ran off, her kite gingerly rising into the air, colouring the sky above the playground.
And then it exploded.
Every girl was Pippi Longstocking. Every boy was a pirate. And they were all – and their parents! – fighting for supplies.
“Can I make a kite, sir?”
“Where is the tape?”
“How do I attach the thread?”
“My kid was here first!”
“May I borrow the scissors?”
“This stick is mine!”
“I want red tails!”
“I need a pink crayon!”
“You have some more green paper?”
“Sir, it broke …”
One of the volunteers had a great idea, and she went off to fetch … more volunteers.
Two hours into the workshop over two hundred kites were flying, over two hundred kids were running, falling, and, since kids look at their kite flying, not where they are running, crashing into trees, lampposts, and each other.
Looking at the chaos from the top of the cliff, where the big kites were supposed to be flying, it was like watching the radar screen and helplessly observing how the paths of two kids running, both looking back at their kite, slowly and surely converge until the inevitable crash.
The time for lunch came and went – only at quarter past two we barely escaped the hordes and let our volunteers handle the impatient crowd.
After a hearty meal at the most venerable gourmet establishment in Velenje we came back – and stepped straight back into chaos.
“They are waiting for you since you left!”
The utterly deranged kite workshop was up again and running madly.
At six o’clock the boss came and said we should wind it own, as all events are to close at six thirty. “Sure boss – we just need a couple of strong guys with big sticks!”
We managed to forcibly disperse the crowd at seven, worrying if there’s enough material left for another crazy kite-making session the next day.
“800. Plus.”
– Saša the designated mathematician of KAP Jasa – kite team Slovenia, when the Sunday finally came to a close
Yes. More than eight hundred kites adorned the sky above Velenje during this fantastic, playful, buzzing weekend. Our absolute record.
We had a total eclipse of the team.
Then the sky above Velenje turned red.
And then the moon got eclipsed.
Driving back home our hearts were absolutely not eclipsed. Our hearts were flying – like kites.
Now, it’s thanks time.
First, to our personal sponsor, Trend company and Rok, for the perfect paper from which the kids made hundreds of kites!
Then to the City of Velenje, Festival Velenje, Pika’s Festival, the Embassy of Sweden in Slovenia, all the organizers, sponsors, and supporters.
To Dunja, the lady of the house, to Gal and to Tanja, for a fantastic dinner and a really pleasant evening that ended too soon …
Big thanks to Barbara the biggest boss, to Staša, Ana and Matej, to Klavdija and Tjaša, and to Mateja the boss.
Huge thanks – for real, we couldn’t have done it without you! – go to Zoja, Brina, and Nina, and to Tjaša, Ula, and Paskal. Because of you we are now completely out of kite making supplies. Chapeau!
But our biggest thanks must go to the kids of Velenje, to all the bright eyes that lit up when the kite they made themselves rose into the wind. You are amazing, and we are honoured to be able to spend two fantastic kite making and kite flying days with you!
Pippi, Velenje … we hope to see you again next year, and Srečno! ⚒️ 🪁
Hello
Great Job.
What do I have to do, to participate in 2026?
Kind Regards
Axel Kostros
Axel, so nice to hear from you!
Well, you will probably just have to show up – we will be glad to have you there (if, of course, they invite us again) …
We’ll keep in touch, and will inform you as soon as we know more.
Best regards!