They say that life is measured not by the number of breaths you take, but by the number of moments that take your breath away.
I have been very lucky to have a lot of those moments in my life, some would argue that I’ve had more than most.
The temple of Borobudur in Indonesia is one of those moments.
It’s almost impossible to describe this place. It is well over a thousand years old, and has stood there patiently through the centuries watching as people come and go, it’s many faces never saying anything but seeing everything. And yet somehow, despite it’s soaring stupas and many faced buddhas the structure is not overwhelming. Perhaps the only intimidating thing about it is the slightly disrespectful crowds who shove there way around the main level at the top (which is actually supposed to be circled in silence for meditation, at least that’s what I remember reading). But the structure itself is…peaceful. It feels as if it wants to help you somehow.
The last time I went to Borobudur I was not nearly as experienced with travel as I am now, it was my first time in Indonesia and I had no idea what to expect. At that time I was knocked sideways by the intense Indonesian heat, I remember barely being able to make it to the top. This time I came prepared with a large bottle of water and a proper hat, and was able to climb to the top stupa with – comparative – ease. The view from the top is breathtaking; you feel as if you have stepped into the pages of the past, or the pages of national geographic, looking out over the Indonesian jungle. In some directions there isn’t even a sign of civilization to be seen for what looks like miles.
That said, I found the lower levels more relaxing as there were fewer people traversing them. I could absorb the energy of the place there, I could feel more of what it was trying to give me.
Some places on earth have a pull, Petra is the only other one that I’ve felt like this, a sense that if you just stayed until everyone else had gone, the place would have something to whisper to you, would have something to say.
But this wasn’t the day for me to find out what that was apparently, because crew tours are – like all the other tours – on a tight schedule (um, more on how that worked out in a minute). We made our slow and respectful way back down the temple stairs to ground level and through the shaded pathway back to the bus. Trying unsuccessfully to dodge the hawkers that seemed determined to sell us everything from backpacks to miniature buddhas. We did walk away with one small stupa replica each, for our respective shrines/collections, but at least I managed to doge the backpacks.
Regretfully leaving the temple behind us we loaded back into the bus to head to lunch. I did remember the restaurant, a lovely open air place far away from where any of the other groups ended up (the guests ate at the restaurant on site, we…didn’t). We had the place almost to ourselves and even though it was open air, we relished the small break from the intense heat. But we didn’t have to wait long for that heat to break. I wish I could say I had felt it coming, but I’ve never been one of those people who can detect changes in the weather; so when the first roll of thunder broke through the heavy sky I was caught by surprise. Then it was just a matter of waiting – until the sky opened up and wept refreshing rain that cascaded down off the edges of the roof of the restaurant and enclosed us in a curtain of water.
I wish there was a way I could better describe moments like that, I wish I could find exactly the right words, or that there was a perfect camera, to show what it’s really like to sit in the middle of something like that. What it smells like, what it feels like.
Because what they say is right…it is all about the moments that take your breath away.