One of Those Moments of Reflection

Whether you are an avid traveler scouring the globe or just enjoy a holiday whenever you can, you might find yourself stumbling upon one of those moments when words and pictures can't describe how you feel. I always imaged these moments in time would come only when experiencing a form of nature, so magnificent and captivating that it's unimaginable to grasp the timescale a landscape has taken to develop and how fortunate you are to have witnessed it in such a stage of its existence. I picture floating on a cormorant fisherman's raft, meandering along the Li river in Southern China surrounded by the jagged alienesque hills of Guilin. I speculate that I'd experience that same stunning aura if I'd hiked 12,000 feet up the Andes mountain chain, the air getting thinner, expecting to reach a conical summit only to be met with Salar de Uyuni, a 4,000+ square mile expanse of salt flat, shimmering mirage like in the burning South American sun. I expect nature to be the only one to leave me in a state of awe, for nature has had the time to develop a landscape so beautiful without the hindrance of man. However, I have only experienced this state of true reflection once, not in the presence of a purely natural scene, but at Borobudur Temple, Indonesia.

Jakarta's train station. The largest mosque in SE Asia in the
background and the women only carriage of the train

From our second home in Jakarta, West Java, we drove to the train station early one morning before the sun had risen. After purchasing return tickets for 350,000 rupiah (or 25GBP at the time) we were awaiting our 6am carriage to Yogyakarta, Central Java, Indonesia's previous capital city. We'd bought seats in the executive cabin of the train as, by British standards anyway, 25GBP is extremely cheap for a 336 mile, 8 hour train journey, return! When you consider that a train journey from my home in Sheffield to London is half that distance and, bought only a few days in advance, a one way ticket costs 50GBP I was extremely happy with the price. Anyway, the train consisted of around eight or nine carriages on arrival, one executive, one business and the rest standard, except for the last carriage which was reserved for women passengers only, as is the norm on Indonesia's trains. This isn't a isolated sex orientated division either, as I found that there are also women's parking spaces situated closer to shopping entrances in some malls, as well as the more religious divisions in pray among mosque goers. The compartment we were in was very spacious, plenty of leg room, not the comfiest of seats but able to recline with two arm rests and the added bonus of our own personal food cart which was always available within our cabin. As we chugged slowly through the melee of corrugated tin roofs of shanties and the hectic cries of the city's markets, we started to leave the metropolis of Jakarta behind, the chaotic scenes making way to much more aesthetic looking fields. The landscape gradually became more undulating and unpredictable, traversing rivers and hillsides, crisscrossing rice paddies and small tracts of rain forest. It wasn't quite as dramatic as I'd hoped but then again Java and Bali which I have frequented the most haven't quite lived up to my expectations in regards to natural grandeur and the tropical paradise in which I envisioned, mostly because of the overcrowded roads and the much cultivated land. Nonetheless, it was a whole lot better than being stuck in Jakarta's traffic for three hours travelling no more than six miles! The train journey was, despite its length, pleasant, the only drawback for me being that had I needed to go to the toilet in more urgent circumstances (I'm still not great with some Indonesian food), then the hole in the floor and the lack of toilet paper which constituted a toilet would have no doubt ruined my whole experience.

At Borobudur's base.

We arrived at a very frenetic Yogyakarta train station mid afternoon under a tropical monsoon. Having made our way through the swaths of persistent taxi and tuktuk drivers offering their services we chose a much drier 4x4 to escort us to our hotel, the Royal Ambarrukmo. My first impressions of Jogja, as it is more commonly known throughout Indonesia, was much the same as Jakarta, minus the skyscrapers but much more hilly. It has the same frantic streets, rife with the sound of car horns and shouts from the roadside food stall sellers, the same shabby shacks lining the streets selling everything from electrical goods to refurbished office furniture. The one thing the city didn't have as oppose to Jakarta though was that capital feel. Where investment is obvious to see in the country's capital, Jogja seems to have been left behind, spared of the development which would have seen in progress at an albeit slower rate than Jakarta. I did enjoy my time in the city though, the grand palaces of the ex capital were rather grand among its perfected trimmed lawns, the place oozed history as it has been at the heart of all Java's dynasties throughout its rich history. And perhaps most importantly for me, since I mentioned early about my stomach still struggling to adapt to some Indonesian food, we found a restaurant where I not only enjoyed the atmosphere and food, I can honestly say I had the most amazing curry I have ever eaten. The restaurant was called Gajah Wong, it consisted of three styles of rooms with accompanying music. We choose to eat in the jazz spirited part which had a mixture of authentic Indonesian and Western tastes. Having traveled midweek the restaurant wasn't busy so we sat alone beside a beautiful antique piano as the musician and singer graced us with melodic free-flowing jazz, the whole ambiance wouldn't have been out of place on a Parisian boulevard. After choosing to have a Malay orientated curry we further enjoyed the harmonic music as we awaited our meal. Lidya, a mix of impatience waiting for our meal and the urge to sing, joined the young female vocalist and sang 'Girl from Ipanema'. She absolutely brought the house down! Well, I gave her a standing ovation plus the pianist, singer and one waitress which accumulated the whole room. I think the only regret I had that evening was not taking a picture of the work of art that was my meal. I'm from Yorkshire, England, where we enjoy a good hearty meal, I don't need a fancy picture perfect plate or a gourmet styled tiny morsel of fancy, hard to pronounce, cuisine, I just need a good heartwarming dish, and plenty of it! However, for the first time, I got both. My plate consisted of a mildly spiced Malay curry with boneless chicken breast, a wicker basket of sticky Indonesian rice, the most crisp and vibrant side salad, diced and fashioned into an array of shapes which was fascinating it itself, half a dozen dips and aromatic sauces, a large stack of chapati and the most bizarre concoction of banana spiced chutney. It was one of those dishes where you know you are full but just can't stop eating. I haven't been back to Yogyakarta since but even if it wasn't from the attraction of seeing Prambanan or a return visit to Borobudur, I would truthfully go back just so I could order this curry again. If they did deliveries to England I would be on the phone straight away!

Lidya at the main stairway of the temple.

We woke up the next morning, me having had lucid dreams of last nights meal, fresh and ready to explore Borobudur. I must admit that previous to my travels to see Lidya in Indonesia, I had never heard of Borobudur before so had no intention of seeing it, it was only through a bit of research via google and searching for images of various cities around Java in which to visit that I stumbled across it. I have always been in awe of ancient architecture, whether it be centuries old British castles and cathedrals, the Roman ruins across Europe or the more commonly known temples of the Egyptians or Mayans, so visiting Borobudur sounded just the sort of thing I'd love to see. As we drove through the central Javan countryside we passed distinctive lava stream beds of past mount Merapi eruptions, a reminder that we were in a setting where nature really did rule. Rising just shy of 3,000m, the volcano was a daunting figure yet its flanks were heavily cultivated as the ash provides nutrient rich soil for agricultural use. As we left Merapi behind to our right we turned towards the ancient temple complex, getting the odd glimpse of its peak figurines among the tropical mishmash of trees. The temple was set in a wonderfully well kept park, giant trees wrapped in creepers and vines with an abundance of tropical flowers adorning the beds beside the lawns. The temple itself emerges as you follow the winding path through the foliage, dwarfing the tropical plants which had only a few minutes ago looked the equivalent of nature's skyscrapers. As the obstructions cleared and it revealed itself in front of our eyes, that's the moment you can take in just how complex and the vast Borobudur really is.

Buddhist figurine looking out towards the mountains.

Built in the 8th and 9th centuries, Borobudur was and still is, 12 centuries later, the largest Buddhist monument ever built. That means, despite the technological advances we've experienced over the passed millennium and how basic everyday commodities such as transport, tools and the non existence of machinery was back then, the people in the time of the Syailendra dynasty responsible for building it have never been surpassed. That is ridiculous! When you consider that we live in an age when mankind is trying to build things bigger and better than ever, when the tallest building in the world gets outdated within a few years, these ingenious people with their rudimentary tools managed to create a temple that still stands in the most magnificent and inhospitable of places today, as the largest of its kind. I'd compare Borobudur to the Egyptian pyramids or the Mayan's in Central America in terms of structure, only of course in a South East Asian way. The temple is built in three tiers, forming a 'square' triangle, encompassing 2,500m square. The three tiers represent the Buddhist philosophy of kamadhatu (the base of the temple), rupadhatu (the mid section) and arupadhatu (top section) of which makes interesting reading but I will spare you the details here. All you need to know is it was constructed perfectly in accordance with Buddhist lore. Atop the pyramidal structure are 72 bell like statues, many more Buddhist figurines and expertly carved platforms and walls. An army of workers must have toiled in tropical disease infested rain forest, through monsoon type weather and the very possible threat from Merapi and other active volcano's in Central Java, to shape the 60,000m3 of stone that comprises the monument. What makes it even more remarkable as mentioned before is all this was done a millennium ago, 300 years before the more famous and popular Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Borobudur has since been reinvigorated by UNESCO as it was abandoned for at least 500 years and subjected to volcanic eruptions and weathering but the fact it has survived is a testament to the dynastic, visions of the king who built it and the Buddhist faith.

Lidya's moment of reflection.

When I scaled the worn steps on that day in 2012, early in the morning before the crowds had arrived, I reached the summit and that's where I experienced my only moment of true reflection. From the bell on the peak of the pyramid you gaze out over rain forest in every direction until you hit the abrupt rising mountains and volcano chain that gave birth to these islands. It's hard to imagine living in a place so wild and unruly, so full of myth and unpredictability. Yet years ago, five centuries before the introduction of Islam to what is now the world's most populous Islamic country, a dynasty began building the world's greatest ever temple to Buddha. It would have been a monumental achievement had they built it on flat grassy plains nearby a river or a stone's through away from the Java sea yet this is constructed on a hill in the middle of the humid heartlands of a tropical island. It's astonishing to think that thousands of tonnes of stone were carved and fashioned into detailed statuettes, huge slabs of identical stone, all of which were carried miles uphill then pieced together like a massive 3D jigsaw in the most inhospitable place imaginable. As I gazed out, looking at the surrounding tranquility of the Javanese landscape, the whole aura of the place just seemed right. Borobudur will stay with me forever and I would not hesitate to return given the opportunity, or for the curry!

For additional information on Borobudur please check on Unesco's website here: whc.unesco.org/en/list/592

Rich