The flagship’s calls into Indonesia always have a different feel to them than any of the other ports we call into. The vast majority of the crew has family here, and for many of them this is the only time they’ll see each other in almost a year, if not more. At last estimate the visitor count for today was over 800 (the crew itself only has just over that many in total!), they had to process the paperwork weeks in advance to avoid a bottleneck.
For those of us who’s families are still residing oceans away, there is always a crew tour in Semarang. Out to the giant Buddhist temple of Borobudur.
Although it’s a recognized UNESCO heritage site, and therefore more of a historic monument than anything, Borobudur is still an active temple for a lot of pilgrims. Therefore, I was pretty sure (especially once a guest reminded me), that it would follow the same rules as other active temples I’ve been lucky enough to visit in other areas; meaning that you’d be required to cover your knees and your shoulders in order to enter. This is no mean trick when the weather is predicted to go into the nineties. This is where the pirate-style trousers I bought way back before my first contract come in very handy. They’re made of a very light material and they breathe easily, but they’re capris, so they reach to just below my knees. That took care of part of it. Respect or not I was not about to wear long sleeves, or even cap sleeves, in the Indonesian heat, so I threw my little shrug into my purse so that I would be able to slid it on if absolutely necessary. Much to my great relief, it wasn’t.
The bus ride out was mostly uneventful. While the motor-coach was a bit of (okay, a total) rattle-trap, it was at least comfortable and blessedly airconditioned. Once we were out of the main city (though the parts we drove through wouldn’t look like a city to most western eyes), the Indonesian jungle blurred by on either side of us. Punctuated by ramshackle buildings with red tile roofs that have been built according to no plan other than ‘where is there space’, and rice fields that shimmered in the morning sun. Apparently only women are allowed to tend the rice fields, because they are the symbol of fertility, and if men tended them instead, the crop wouldn’t be fertile. Interesting what people believe.
At the refreshment stop I was seriously tempted to by a replica Javanese shadow puppet for my best friend back home, but I’m afraid my desire to give a really cool gift was trumped by the lack of space in my suitcases. I did however pick up a hand-fan, which through the course of the day proved to be the best $2 investment I’ve ever made.
You see, I am not built to take the heat. I never have been. Ever since I was a child I’ve had a weak head for the sun. I’m very pale skin, and I’m very nearly a red-head depending on the time of year. As a result I don’t tan, I just burn, or freckle. Coming from a country where our temperatures simply don’t go above ‘comfortable’, the heat had me tipping on the edge of sunstroke all day…so that cheap little hand fan was a godsend.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Borobudur, so I can’t really say whether it met those expectations or not. As a building, in the pure art historical sense, it was incredibly impressive. The relief carving is breathtaking in its detail for one thing, and it’s difficult to imagine how long the massive structure took to construct. Especially without any type of modern machinery.
It didn’t feel like I expected it too though. As beautiful as the building was, it felt…empty. Hundreds of people still make pilgrimages here every year, and yet the structure itself seems to have absorbed none of that. I found that very unusual. As an aside, yes I know the difference between a stupa and a temple, this was a temple with stupa on the top, and it wasn’t just the stupa that felt empty.
That said, my ability to pick up on such things diminishes substantially if my own health isn’t steady, so I imagine that the previously mentioned incipient heat stroke likely didn’t help much.
Just as we were all on the verge of collapse from climbing eight very very steep flights of stairs to the top of the temple, we stumbled back to the bus and collapsed into the bliss of the air conditioning.
Lunch was a buffet affair, during which we had the restaurant almost completely to ourselves. A welcome break from having to fight for a seat in the Lido. Somewhere next door they were rehearsing a shadow-puppet show, and we spent quite some time trying to decipher the discordant music that went along with it. Well, it sounded discordant to us, but we knew nothing about the tradition or the music structure, which was part of what made listening to it interesting.
After lunch we all piled back into the rattletrap bus for the ride home. Most of us immediately fell asleep. I certainly did. But when I opened eyes again it was edging into dark. I looked at my cell phone clock, and then turned to the couple behind me
Hey guys, what time was all aboard?
5:30
Yeah, thought so…I think we missed that
Just by a bit yeah
The glowing numbers on my cell phone were boldly declaring that it was 6pm. Somehow our bus got separate from the rest of the main convoy. How this happened no one is quite sure. The thing is, being part of the convoy slices at least an hour off of travel time. Without it we were doomed to the local traffic congestion. When we got back to the gangway it was clear that we had held the ship; thankfully though this was a ship organized tour, so there was no reprisal. It certainly wasn’t our fault our driver was…a bit thick.
Still, I imagine we’ll hear about it for a few days yet, until everyone finds something else to gossip about.