Candi Borobudur

I woke at about 3:45, (yesterday) packed my things and put them aside ready for checkout. I was on the road by 4:20am. Took the main road as there wasn't much traffic and it had better lighting.

It was an easy ride sticking to the main road, but still took over an hour to get there.

The sun was already visible when I arrived and the gate was closed, I needed to be there earlier if I wanted to join the sunrise tour.

While I was waiting I got hoodwinked into following a local guy up the hill to a so-called viewing area. If you have the opportunity, Dont do it. It's a scam. You can't see a Damned thing from the hill!

Gave the guy the slip and went straight back to the entry gate, it had just opened.

Finally I am at Borobudur. It is just as I'd imagined. I was totally impressed. It's an awe inspiring monument to the Buddha, to nature, man's creativity and the elusive, divine middle path.

I went hoping for some kind of spiritual awakening, or connection. I needed desperately for something to happen. What happened, was nothing spectacular... just me being engulfed by the sheer magnitude of something so great. It is Great!

After about half an hour the number of people climbing over the site had increased considerably. Mostly school groups and a few families. Nearly everyone wanted a photo with the Bule. They were all very polite, some a bit shy to ask but all curious to talk with a foreigner. It was a weird experience.

The instruction is that visitors should walk around the monument three times in a clockwise direction. I don't think the kids were into that. There was a single monk fulfilling the clockwise prayers for us all.

My experience of this place was of great appreciation. The power it emitted was enormous. I sensed it wasn't a mystical power but power of the educational variety. The whole thing seemed like an instruction manual. Designed to teach people balance over ideology, mysticism, religion or any other non tangible belief. 

Really I don't know what it means. It's a giant pile of carved rocks. But being there certainly gave me a deep feeling of connection to whatever creative spirit motivates humans to reach for the heavens.

First time to Yogya

I've just returned to Bali after spending three days (2 nights) in Yogyakarta.

This was my first time on the island of Java. There are other places I've thought of going, but Yogya, had one big draw card. Borobudur!

Essentially I have always wanted to visit the 9th century Buddhist temple Borubudur. Realising that time is slipping through my fingers and my life has seemed a bit of a pointless and failed experiment, I figured there is no time like now for turning tables and resetting broken patterns. So I booked a ticket and I went.

After a few days in Bali, and settling into the meeting routine at Sanur packed my stuff, got a ride to the airport and flew to Yogya. It was pretty easy to catch a bus from the airport. 

Bus A1 took me to stop 3 on Jl Malioboro for rp3,500. (Less than AUD $0.40) The busses are crazy. An elevated platform, about two feet off the ground. Bus has a sliding door to match a similar door on the platform. The driver regularly pulled away from the platform before everyone had fully boarded, people had to literally jump on the bus.

I got off the bus about 1.5 km from my accommodation. Snooze guesthouse. As I walked a local becak rider offered me a ride and so I arrived at my lodging in style. It was a motorized cart. Slow and comfortable.

Snooze is inside the boundary of the Kraton, which is essentially an area defined by a giant wall surrounding the Sultains palace. The streets in this area are quiet and leafy full of well maintained colonial and more traditional housing. 

The hostel was quiet, friendly and comfortable. A good base for two days.

Malioboro street was busy on the day I arrived. Apparently it was some kind of national day. Jl Malioboro is full of t-shirt vendors, kaki lima, horses with carts and becak. 

On day 2 I wasn't able to arrange a dawn visit to Borobudur so I went walking and met an older man who wanted to chat and practice his English. He said the was a school teacher. We talked a while and he showed me around the Kraton. I asked if I could buy him a coffee and he said yes. He knew a good place with the best coffee in town... We walked on, through a maze of ancient streets.

Eventually we arrived at the coffee shop. It was a lewak coffee place. I was in a tight spot, couldn't back out without causing offense or embarrassment. I bought two coffee lewak and pretended it was nothing special at all. Cost me rp 240,0000! I'm not even going to translate that to dollars! 

Since the hostel couldn't send the shuttle to Borobudur for a single visitor I decided to hire a scooter.

Was daunted at first but soon found my confidence. Rode out to Borobudur in the afternoon for a practice run. Got lost a bit but found my way, with help from Google navigation.

It is still Here

Stepping away from the bitumen car park, I walked toward the blue shade of the scrub.

It engulfed me.

A scrappy woodland, regrowth over disturbed ground before the arrival of weedy grass. Land taken back by the native. Resettled, reinstated, reestablished, alive.

By the time trees are behind me, the whole atmosphere has changed.

The road is close but the air diffused by wood and leaves. 

Sound, smell, temperature. In every way this place excludes and expels the grim state of town. To the drivers who rush by in their air conditioned boxes at speed, it's just a messy bit of scrub pending development. To the people of the land it is terra firma, safe haven, home.

Inside this open space my senses are become attuned to the natural order, space rhythm. A 3 dimensional space, but actually 4. Clean, it renews and cleans the spirit.

I hear dry leaves rustle as small lizards attack each other in an ongoing battle for territory, breeding and hunting rights.

The scent of dry wood, leaves and clean earth enters me and compliments my essence. 

Old bones from campfire feasts and roadside carnage are lightly dispersed, bleached white and crumbling occasionally crack under foot. Scraps of metal protrude from derelict earth mounds, an old settlers dump reclaimed.

Cycads show a brilliant spread of green spiky foliage, their fronds shade sprouting seeds that defy the baking earth and sprout bravely on bare ground. 

Stringy bark trees maybe 40years old are the foundation of this place, because of them we call it woodland. They stand tall and straight always watching, sheltering all with a loose canopy of grey and green. Vines occasionally sprout and encircle their trunks.

A dark figure emerges from the cover of low brush, funny I didn't see him coming before he was quite close. A young man, thick curly hair, fresh and clean looking, dressed for town, not at all like the people who sleep rough in the bush.

He moved silently across the dry twigs and leaves toward me, his eyes fixed intently on mine. Clear sharp eyes, in polluted by sleepless nights or smoky fires, no sign of the scourge of ganja or grog.

With a flick of his wrist from a couple of meters away he asks without speaking "Whats up?".

I return the sign and he signals the unmistakable "got a smoke?" With his hand.

"Nah sorry mate" I reply verbally and clumsy. He looks into my eyes, deeply, shrugs and walks on past me.

I turn to see where he is going but he is gone. Vanished. A peculiar meeting in the trees. To Yolngu there is never a chance meeting. He must have been somebody. What did he want? What was he doing?

I looked around some more. Whatever else there may have been here before, everything I saw and felt told me the spirit of the land is alive in this place.

Looking down I saw a stalk of fragile pink and white flowers. I walked slowly back to the car. Stepped out of the cocoon of life and back into The World.

Welcome Visitor

Yesterday in the morning when I returned from my ride Sam let out an excited exclamation...
WoW! Look at that!

A Great Egret had landed in our yard.

Amazing, beautiful bird! 
I don't know what drew him to our yard but it's existence is a blessing.

On my ride this morning a butterfly (Varied Eggfly I think) brushed through my hair... later along the dark forest track an Emerald Dove rand ahead of me looking for an exit through the thick brush. It's wings matching the new growth on vine forest trees.

With all the sham and destruction on this earth today, I felt a brief reprieve, a momentary connection to the vanishing treasures of the earth.  My heart grasps at the moments hoping sanctuary can exist.

 

There are beautiful creatures living on the fringes of our domain, sadly the fringes at every point in every location are under an unrelenting assault. Fire, flood, land clearing, poison... They are being consumed, quickly now the ball is rolling.

Rolling on

No work today. Instead I took a bit of a ride to test my new saddle and see how much my ankle could bear.

School group riding on the jety

A low tide allowed me to get a different perspective on Nightcliff Jetty.

Later after sunset I went for a moonlight ride around the neighborhood and a little beyond.

There are so many special aspects to night riding, especially during a full moon.

The wind and air temperature are less, no chance of sunburn, the scent of blossoms can be really intense. Sometimes bats will fly overhead or right toward you, can be daunting when it's a fruit bat. 

Tonight the air was thick with the perfume of Moria bushes and rotting mango.

Results: I prefer the new saddle to my old one but not ideal for the angle I sit.

My left foot is still recovering and not ready for big miles yet.

Back on two wheels

Ten days ago I rolled my ankle pretty severely and have been off my bike the whole time. 

I'm not sure exactly what I did to it but the pain has been pretty strong. I've needed to keep my foot up most of the time. Had bruising from my ankle to my toes and even in the arch...

Riding has been my happy place for such a long time, it's my meditation and my exercise, solitary, time out with just the right amount of sociability (as I pass other travelers). I have been relying on it for my sanity, but found I was chasing the feeling of 'Bliss'. I'd taken the whole thing beyond a healthy discipline and had become dependant on it for a kind of high.

Riding the cool of dawn (or in the evening) with some great music to listen to. Less traffic, no noise, starlight, moon, bats silently flitting by, the occasional curlew calling. It's magic!

Ha! So who's it hurting anyway?

Nobody! Except I wasn't prepared to be incapacitated for more than a week. 

I really struggled not being able to ride.

Tonight I finally rode my bike home from work and the sensation was exquisite! Nearly a full moon, tail wind no clouds. The bike practically rolled the whole way home with no effort at all. It felt like perfection.

Song of the night: Shallow - Lady Gaga. 

Frilled Dragon

I recently read a poem called Frilly.

A metaphorical excursion into the being of the lizard and the nature of the author. 

They say emotions come from our lizard brain. 

The most fundamental and primitive core, beyond intellect, beyond reason.

But as humans our thoughts must surely stimulate the chemistry that triggers reptilian response. 

Fears can be invented or nurtured with narrative. Likewise we can take encouragement and model ourselves from the gifts of others.

Even a lizard has something to teach.

Now is the time that dragons are seen. Their colours are splendid and they puff themselves up. Ending months of hiding, they come down to the ground fearless and proud.

(Photos taken today at Rapid Creek N.T.)

45

You must play this 45 @ 45 

:)