I began the new year of 2023 not with a resolution, but with an impromptu resolve to go to Yogyakarta (also called Jogjakarta, and fashionably so!), given the harrowing itinerary…a long, late evening train trip, then another to the airport, then a long morning floating around and fretting till it was time for my flight, then a late evening arrival at Jogja, then trying to salvage the day chasing the sunset at a nearby beach, then crashing in order to awaken at the crack of dawn for a two hour bike ride to Borobudur. Welcome to central Java, Indonesia!
I think I first chanced upon Borobudur in middle school, reading a fast-paced thriller that was part of our compulsory reading (I believe that book was ‘Tiger Gold’ by Nigel Grimshaw, but researching it on Google has not made me any wiser!), and since then I have always had it on the top rungs of my wish list. When a friend visited there a few years back and shared the pictures, that wish was rekindled, and this time around I finally had the opportunity to make it there.
So, the first glimpse I had of this massive complex as I entered the walkway leading up to the hill where the temple sits filled me with wonderment. So impatient was I to reach there that I skipped all the plaques by the wayside describing the history and restoration of this archeological marvel; to my relief I found some brief but useful details right outside the main structure where I managed to catch my breath and much needed rest on one of the many tree-shaded benches, after my fast-paced jaunt up the long path.
Post pandemic, unfortunately, the upper echelons of the temple complex—from where all the iconic photographs used for ‘marketing’ this attraction are usually shot—are closed to the public. All that is allowed now is a circumambulation of the sprawling premises, but this itself is truly rewarding, given the sweeping stretches of verdant slopes that surround this magical spot. Indonesia has had a tragic track record of being pulverized by natural disasters like tsunamis and volcanic eruptions, and it is perhaps one of a few countries in the world where even the poorest is a millionaire (when one starts converting to the local currency), hence it is amazing that heritage places such as this one are still equipped with the basic infrastructure needed to maintain that cash cow called the tourist. Also endearing are the local folk, and quite a handful of young girls almost mobbed me and other visitors to ‘test their English’ as part of their school curriculum (with plenty of giggles, and selfies, of course!).
A tad disappointed though I was, I tried to soak up the vibes emanating from ancient history, myth and legend, and soon enough the gargoyles dotting the length and breadth of the architecture seemed to be speaking to me, transporting me to another time and place, and it was only reluctantly that I took my leave and made it back just in time for the pre-arranged pick up by the driver of my hired bike (the Asian equivalent of Uber, called Grab in these parts, has a very economical and efficient motorbike ride service).
On the way out, there was a small albeit enriching museum experience for whatever little I had missed at the principal venue, plus free water and washroom (the one at the main gates charges a hefty couple of thousand bucks in local money for a single use). The museum is more like a work in progress, with half excavated statues still being transported to the main area for restoration. A section showcasing the ‘gamelan’ or traditional orchestra is available for tourists to try out, with plenty of landscaped gardens and gazebos all around the premises.
The entire distance covered on foot here could easily be a kilometer or more, and under a scorching sun could get very exhausting indeed, but so what! I had not only re-visited my childhood but had the distinct privilege of viewing the largest Buddhist architectural legacy and also one of the ‘Seven Wonders of the World..’
