Nature in the City
Alisha Gucker

The smell of garbage baking in the sun fills my nose as I walk down a Denspasar sidewalk. There is a rush of traffic, horns honking and Vespas weaving in and out. The roads, the buildings, the sidewalks create a world of cement. Then, in the middle of the sidewalk is a huge, beautiful, ancient Banyan tree. The leaves droop, cool and lush. They are deep green and rich, unlike the spiky bright green palm trees. I see wisdom and age. As the tree towers over this life, this bustling city that has grown up around it, I can understand why the Balinese consider it holy. I understand why it is protected.

Looking down I can see where the concrete cracks as roots push their way through. Here is a battle; the city grows around the tree and the tree grows right back. Each element wars against the other.

The Banyan offers shade and shelter from the oppressive heat. Hidden underneath it, the city fades. The smell of garbage dissipates. The noise of traffic dies. The wrinkled roots and trunk, built up for centuries, remind me of an old man, patiently watching the world change. He stands tall and firm, taller then all the buildings. He is proud. He is ancient. He is holy and protected. He is everything the city is not.

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