A Hundred Balloons at Dawn

Before the sun came up, the sky over the valley began to fill with balloons. First one, then ten, then more than a hundred, all climbing together through the soft blue light. Polly flew between them and could hardly believe her eyes. She is a small green parrot with a red-orange head, blue wing feathers, yellow feet and little round glasses.

Below her stood towers of pale stone, tall and thin like chimneys built by giants. The towers themselves were made by wind and rain, but the doors and windows in them were cut by people. Long ago, whole families carved their homes inside the soft rock. This place is called Göreme, in the heart of Cappadocia.

Polly landed on the rim of a large basket, high above the valley. A pilot stood at the controls with his passengers around him, and he smiled when he saw her. "You are early, little friend," he said. "Did you see our little balloon go up? Every morning we send a small one first, to read the wind."

The sun rose over the far hills. One by one the balloons turned gold, and the stone towers below them glowed the colour of honey. Polly looked at the pilot, and then up at the great burner above his head. Seven days, she decided. Seven days to learn how these things fly.