Borobudur, about 40 kilometres northwest from Yogyakarta is a sight to behold. Built through the 8th and 9th centuries, Borobudur is the world’s largest Buddhist temple and the most visited site in Indonesia. Impressively elaborate and an engineering marvel, it was constructed in three tiers using locally sourced stone without the use of mortar or cement.

The temple was a major pilgrimage site in use up until the 14-15th centuries when it was abandoned. It is not known why the temple was abandoned although some sources suggest that the influence of Islam during that time and the conversion of the Javanese to Islam was one reason for the decline of Borobudur.

For centuries the temple was lost and abandoned, affected by earthquakes, consumed by the jungle and buried under layers of volcanic ash. It was inaccessible to the Javanese until it was rediscovered in 1814 by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles who was then British Governor of Java. After that archaeological investigations and intensive research by the Javanese and Dutch concentrated on re-establishing Borobudur.

In the 1970’s, a restoration venture using original materials, allowed the Indonesian Government and UNESCO to begin the resurrection of Borobudur. Completion of the project took eight years, and in 1991 Borobudur was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site.

From Yogyakarta we hire a car and a driver for the easy drive to Borobudur.  As we arrive at the entrance to the temple we are accosted by trinket sellers and street traders surging towards us with a stream of questions and paraphernalia: Would you like a hat to buy? Perhaps a book? Look at the post cards, would you like to buy? Would you like a guide, I can be your guide? There is any number of requests bombarding us.

And they follow us as we head towards the temple. One young trinket seller displays miniature ceramic statues of a Javanese couple in their wedding clothes. I show some interest. “Maybe later,” I say as he stays with us, chattering, all the way to the entrance.

At the entrance to the temple, the sheer number of steps required to climb to the first level not to mention the number of other sightseers clambering up the steps feels daunting. I am losing confidence. I’m not sure whether I will make it into the heights of the temple. Tackling those steps means going at my own pace which is slower than the other tourists not to mention stopping to catch my breath every now and then. But, I didn’t come here just be an observer so it’s ever onward.

Fortunately, an easier option appears at the side of the temple where an uphill ramp is accessible to the first level so I decide on that route.  Part way up the ramp I meet an elderly woman walking downhill with her granddaughter who is pushing her wheel chair and holding her walking stick. She is tiny, wizened, dressed in traditional Islamic dress. She stops and holds out her fragile hand, taking my hand in hers. With her granddaughter interpreting she tells me she is 86, asks me where I am from and then proceeds to give me a blessing before shuffling on down the hill with her granddaughter. The significance of the blessing is not lost on me as we stand at the base of one of the greatest Buddhist temples in the world.

I push on up the hill inspired by the elderly lady. By this stage I am puffing but undaunted as I reach the first level of the temple. A rest stop allows for a chance to take in the views across the fertile Kedu plains to the distant Menorah Hills.

Unfortunately, as I head towards the second level, more stairs loom large. They are very steep, narrow, rough cut slabs of stone, unevenly spaced. There are few hand rails and too many people scrambling over the centuries old steps. I push on, launching myself forward to merge with the crowd. I propel myself up those uneven slabs of stone that count for stairs, keeping pace with the overflowing crowd of tourists.

At the second level my legs turn to jelly. I am breathless.  I cannot climb any further. My nerve disappears. Moving at the speed of a snail, reminding myself to breathe, I slowly circumnavigate the second level of the temple, marvelling at the enormous grey stone stupas, touching them to feel the rough texture of the stone, wondering how the engineering of all this was possible.

500 statues of the Buddha are positioned around Borobudur. Approximately 3,000 unique artworks in the form of reliefs cover the walls of the temple complex highlighting the life, teachings and the personal wisdom of Buddha. Around the circular platforms of Borobudur are 72 stupas - a hemispherical structure – each containing a Buddha. I am amazed at the construction of such magnificence

My partner continues to climb to a higher level to take photos as I rest by an ancient intricately carved stone wall, grateful for the chance to quietly experience and contemplate the enormity and beauty of this impressive structure. Unexpectedly, groups of young, dark haired Javanese girls approach, smiling and offering a greeting. Would I be in their selfies they shyly ask as they surround me, linking their arms in mine? Of course, I say, wondering; is it because I am a foreigner, is it my age or is it my hair colour?  

Watching the crowds I notice that climbing around at this level and the upper reaches of the temple are young people, families with children including some middle aged couples. It is a surprise to realise that on this day, at this time, there are no other seniors at this height in the temple, only us.

As spectacular as Borobudur is, UNESCO notes the integrity of Borobudur is not without risks. The considerable pressure from tourism including some minimal damage done by unsupervised visitors, the increased corrosion of the building stone and the possible risk of another volcanic eruption from Mount Merapi similar to what occurred in 2010 leaves the temple vulnerable.

Although the temple is 28 kilometres from the Mount Merapi crater, the 2010 volcanic eruption caused acidic ash to fall on the temple raising fears that the historic site may be severely damaged. However, an extensive restoration project with a significant donation from UNESCO was completed a year later and the temple was restored.

In 1985, 11 bombs were placed inside the stupas of Borobudur, nine of which exploded. Thought to be the work of extremists, it is just fortunate that no one was injured although significant damage was done to the temple requiring further extensive repairs.

We spend our time on Borobudur searching through the many areas of the temple that offer a glimpse into an ancient world. Within these stone walls are the secrets of a dynamic Buddhist community from centuries long past. Intricate details in the reliefs on the stone walls hold stories upon stories of the Buddha’s life, teachings and wisdom so numerous, that after a time they become too much to absorb.

Navigating our way out of the temple is an easier process although the uneven stone steps without handrails are still a challenge. As we exit the temple, the trinket seller who previously showed me the Javanese ceramics comes running. “Hello, hello, I have waited for you. You said maybe later you would buy.”  I am caught off guard. I don’t want the overpriced ceramics. He senses my disinterest. “Please,” he says quietly, “I have a wife and children to feed.” And more than what he said was the look in his eyes, of sadness, of pleading. We negotiate, agree on a price and in the shadow of this majestic Buddhist temple he is happy with the outcome and so are we.

Header image:  © Kravka