Page 122 of My Five Daddies

We leave the city limits and pass on into the country. I know Polovia is mainly a rural place, with only a few big cities. Maldin is the biggest by far, though there are a couple other larger ones as well. The countryside is exactly that, a countryside, and not at all the suburbs that I’m used to. There are farms and more farms, and it’s like we’re in a whole newworld.

“We mostly grow wheat,” Nolan says as we zip past another field. “Also corn and a few other exports. But we’re known for our wheat and bread products, so the farmers invest inthat.”

“You’re the breadbasket of central Europe,” Icomment.

He shrugs a little bit. “That’s right. Except I want to modernize, you know? I don’t want to be a bread country anymore. I want to be a techcountry.”

“That’s a hard thing to do, isn’tit?”

He nods his head slowly. “Yes, but it’s possible. Other countries like us have done it. Like Bellestan, forexample.”

“I haven’t even heard of thatcountry.”

He gives me a little grin. “Not many people have, but it’s a good example to follow.” He suddenly points out the left window. “Check thatout.”

I turn my head and watch as a field full of horses and cows appears next to a corn field. I can’t help but laugh at the big lazy brown cows and the beautiful, sleek horses. They’re so different from what I’m used to inMaldin.

“This is the real Polovia,” Nolan says. “Farms as far as the eye can see, and villages where people are born, live, and die for generations. I bet there are farmers that have never left their farmland for more than a day ortwo.”

“I can’t believe a place like that still exists,” Isay.

“It does, but it’s gotten better. We have universal healthcare. Everyone is taken care of, no matter what. We have a social safety net that rivals anything in Europe, and people are mostly happy. Our enemies want to endthat.”

I can’t imagine anyone wanting to change this countryside. As we drive, I see more and more the beauty that is Polovia. There’s almost nothing like this back home, where big businesses have already gotten rid of all the small farmers and any natural beauty. Polovia looks untouched, like it has been for the last million years. And here, people still own their ownbusinesses.

“Take a look at this.” Nolan starts to slow down before slowly pulling off theroad.

“What are you doing?” I ask him. It doesn’t look like there’s anywhere for us to go. Trees line either side of thepavement.

But a few more feet and a small gap in the trees opens up. It’s a simple dirt road, and Nolan pulls the car downit.

“I bet you don’t have anything like this back in America,” hesays.

“Not really,” Iadmit.

We drive down the dirt road, enough for one car at best, with enormous, ancient trees surrounding us on both sides. I roll down my window and I want to reach out and grab the trees, but I know that would be stupid. Instead, I breathe the deep, musky smell of theforest.

Nolan grins at me. “This is a national park,” he says. “Well, we call them royal parks here, but it’s the same thing as your Americanparks.”

“It’s protected land,” Isay.

“Very ancient,” he answers, staring straight ahead. “Some of the oldest parts of our country can trace their origins to thisforest.”

“What’s itcalled?”

“Bellendarf,” hesays.

“Ugly word.” I make aface.

He laughs. “Maybe to your unrefined ears,” he says. “But to me, it’s the most beautiful word in the world.” He cranes his neck, looking ahead. “There wego.”

I watch as we pull slowly into an enormous clearing. It’s at least two football fields in size, and in the middle of it, is a strange stone structure. Nolan parks the car and shuts down theengine.

“Come on,” he says, gettingout.

“Wait, what isthis?”

“The reason this forest is a park.” He walks forwards and I have to hustle to get out of the car and catchup.

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