us back down the mountain and home
to Hong Kong.
Temples we could have visited the
following day include the haunting
shrines of the Dieng Plateau northwest
of Borobudur; jewel-like Pawon; the
ancient Hindu complex of Prambanan
– famous for its outdoor theatre; and
many more. Instead, we took the local
mode of transport –
andong
(a horse-
drawn cart) – to the atmospheric
morning markets. After browsing at
length, we declined the deep-fried
water buffalo skin in favour of another
picnic lunch in a garden overlooking
the dramatic convergence of two
chocolate brown rivers.
We saved the best for last, and
on our final morning in Central
Java, we were eager to experience
Borobudur’s fabled sunrise. I found
myself filled with anticipation as we
walked through the park-like grounds
of Borobudur in the pre-dawn hush
(despite carrying the rather large
toy lion from Amanjiwo that our
two-year-old son had demanded
accompany us). At first glimpse, the
temple is unprepossessing, but as
we ascended its steep stone steps to
the fifth terrace and its monumental
stupa, its grandeur was revealed. We
were not the first to reach the top, but
there was no jostling to find a good
vantage point. As the sun painted the
sky a vivid pink and lit the unseeing
eyes of the imposing Buddha statues,
its first rays gilded the reliefs lining
every wall. History sprang to life in
the figures going about their daily
business – carved in stone well over
1,000 years ago.
I would have liked to walk every
terrace and examine the incredible
reliefs hand in hand with Time, but
toddlers need breakfast… now. And as
we picnicked on Dagi Hill overlooking
Borobudur in the valley below, my
children gleefully squeezing paint on
their clothes, I smiled at the sunlight
dappling my babies’ heads – a smile
worthy of a Buddha with all the time
in the world.
Photography above: Laura Miller
January 2015
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