One last climb up Borabudur- I had admittedly been racing past the famous stone reliefs for a couple of days, unable to figure out exactly how they represented the stories and tenets of Buddhism even with a map. These thousands of panels are integral to the whole instructive spiritual significance of the temple, but I confess I've found them a bit...dull. Last night I was lazing about in my room and discovered a continuous-loop video which brought the panels to life a bit; I was anxious to go bak up and pick out a few key scenes I felt I cold identify. Again, it was not to be. 7:30 is alarmingly early for me- but the hordes of tour buses were already there. Today's school children were armed not only with an assignment to interview foreigners for practice, but also with laminated instruction cards, checklists of questions, and speeches about Borobudur. Before I reached the first level, I'd been interviewed and photographed a few times, and halfway around I met a group with the lamitated cards. They were adorable. They asked questions, recited some information, and asked, "Do you like dancing?" and I said, "Nope." And they laughed and said, "Yes, yes, you do!" And I said, "I like to watch dancing." And they insisted on teaching me some Indonesian dance steps- actually, quite elegant and beautiful, Bali-style. By that time I'd already wilted in the sun and my time was up. Slipping back down the stairs and heading towards the hotel, I started to hear an alarming sound of frantic flippety-flopping feet- Miss! Miss! - and the crowd got bigger, and I feared a Beatles-style mob. I was photographed about a dozen more times and had kids with leaflets following me as I backed away slowly, saying "Thank you! You speak very good English! My time is up...." And by 8:30 a.m., I was spent.
The rest of the day: a dizzying array of temples and world heritage sites. I am so, so grateful- my hostel asked what I wanted to see and put together a tour for me and sent a driver. For $15 I got 8 hours with a private guide, and he was a really good storyteller so I got all kinds of information about Indonesia, and everything else. Adi will be one of the highlighs of my trip- he told me about his family, and his home in Sulawesi, and his wife who works in the rice fields, and how he learned English working at the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta- he was finally let go because so few Americans visit here these days. He was actually working in Bali in 2002 when the bombs went off- he was headed to pick someone up in Kuta Beach where the explosion happened, when he got a call on his cell phone to turn around, fast.
So- Adi drove me first to the two smaller temples which form a straight line to Borobudur. If you were making a pilgrimage, you'd start at Mendut, where the stone carvings tell stories of the foolishness of animals- meant to remind us of the contradictions within ourselves. Inside there's a huge, graceful Buddha with dangling feet. Next you'd make your way down a hill to cross a smal river, then up and down again to cross another; then you'd stop and rest at Pawan temple, very small and simple. Then you'd begin the final climb to Borobudur. By car all of these temples are in a straight east/west line within about 2 miles; on foot, with two rivers to cross, it would have been a much more significant effort.
After the temples: 45 minute drive to Prambanan, a huge Hinu temple complex. We had to drive across the foothills of Mt. Merapi, an active volcano, to get there, and through the rice fields in the countryside. Prambanan, for sure, is spectacular; three large temples to Bramah, Shivah, and Vishnu, and many smaller temples all around. Unfortunately I got the rock star treatment there, too- I could not go more than a few steps in any direction without photographs and stares and giggles. On the grounds there are also three Buddhist temples, mostly ruins, one of them huge. Then on to a place called Ratu Boko: I have no idea what I was looking at there, as it was kind of a bonus and I was totally unprepared and all the signs were in Indonesian, but it was also huge. It was a giant complex containing, I think, a palace throne room, sacred pools, women's quarters, a temple, and several other structures. Pretty much all that was left was foundations- I still need to go back and study up on what I saw. By that stage of the game I was a little hot and tired and had temple fatigue; at some point I wandered through a patch of something with sticky seeds, so my long black skirt was covered from the knee down in little cling-ons; generally disheveled and hot.
Was sorely tempted to stay in for the evening after that, but Yogyakarta (Jogja for short) is a funky, gritty little city, and knowing I was not likely to pass through again, decided to venture out alone. Adi drove me down to the main drag, Malioboro Street, to a crazy little side alley known as a backpacker's street. It looked like the kind of street that would have opium dens. Adi warned me to stay from a few buildings which housed "ladies of the night." The hostel owner had assured me it was perfectly safe to be out alone at night; Adi was less convinced. He gave me about 20 instructions- passport locked up? Money safe? You don't talk to anybody long. You need something, some cab, you tell the restaurant people for you, ok? Adi is exactly 2 years older than I am- but I appreciated the fatherly wisdon.
Dinner was unremarkable, but the ride home was fun. I had instructions, typed in Indonesian with a map, to give to the bike rickshaw guy I found on the street; I assumed that would be sufficient, but didn't take into account that the driver might not be able to read. Anyway, with a few stops along the way to assure him that no, we were not yet anywhere near my destination, I got a nice ride down the "Champs Elysees" of Jogja, with the Sultan's Palace all lit up in the distance, and the crazy, loud conglomeration of people crusing by using every possible form of transportation all around us.
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