A good cup in Java

YOGYAKARTA, Indonesia – Flying east across the Java Sea on the way to Bali, everyone on our side of the plane cranes to get a better look: an angry-looking plume is rising above the cone of Mt. Merapi. It is a majestic thing, and watching its slow fuming should make any thoughtful observer living close by consider packing up and moving far, far away.

But we are headed for one of the world’s greatest resort locations – Bali – 250 miles east after leaving Yogyakarta, and our thoughts soon turn to more meditative matters.

Contemplating the majestic and the infinite is something visitors might do when visiting Yogyakarta, site of some of the world’s largest Buddhist temples. We came at a time when Indonesia’s Hindus had just observed Nyepi – the famed day of silence, in which everyone is expected to abandon their activities, work and chores, and only the sounds of insects and dogs fill the streets. It is a day of cleansing to celebrate the spring equinox and start the new year – which commences the following day, or Ngembak Geni.

Today, Mt. Merapi is still steaming, and even though it has settled down a bit since last week’s scare, you never can tell with volcanoes, as anyone in the Philippines knows. But Java, the island we are landing on, has a long history of Buddhist calm in the face of imminent disaster. Mostly Muslim, Yogyakarta (also "Jogjakarta" or "Jogja" for short) is in fact the only province in Indonesia still formally run by a sultan. We know, because we visited his palace, though he was not around to greet us.

Built in 1756, the Sultan’s Palace or kraton is a little rundown in the way of post-colonial palaces. The British and the Dutch had their chance at running things, and in 1755 the Dutch East India Company designated Yogyakarta as the Sultanate of Mataram.

The descendants of this line continued down through Indonesia’s independence in 1945, and Jogja – which translates to "no war" – still remained a sultanate even after President Suharto’s hold on power ebbed. Today, it’s basically a place for the sultan’s staff to live, though the present Sultan Damak – who has no male offspring – still holds court here on occasion. His younger brother, it is said, will become the next sultan. Unlike earlier days of royalty, the sultans often use their power now as regional governors, trading a more majestic function for an actual voice in government.

We pass a large cage that looks like it once held birds; but no, our guide informs us this was a baby cage. Typically, items like fruit or money were placed inside the cage along with toys. If the baby picked up the fruit, he or she would become clever; if the money, then they would become rich.

A portrait hall presents us with our first glimpse of Yogyakarta’s first sultan, Hamengkubuwono I. We quickly learn that, no, those aren’t Vulcan clip-on ears he was wearing: the pointy tips were a Buddhist touch meant to suggest wisdom.

From Hindu to Buddhist to Muslim to Colonial, a large ceremonial hall at the center of the palace grounds shows just how eclectic Indonesia’s past was: accoutrements include stained-glass windows and chandeliers from the Netherlands, while the floors are lined with Italian marble. The rest is a bewildering mix of batik touches: colorful geometric patterns and ornamental weaves.

Batik, we later learn, is not only a painstaking Indonesian art form involving intricate patterns, handmade dyes and wax: it is also meant to represent nature’s forms in a purely abstract manner, since Islam forbids realistic depictions of people and animals.

A large gamelan sits near the ceremonial hall, and we learn this musical instrument has been around at least 500 years. In truth, there is really only one gamelan tune, and by the end of our trip, we’ve become very familiar with it as played by various gamelan orchestras. It’s relaxing and oddly familiar to watch these aged players kick back and jam on the gamelan. At least musicians will always find employment here.

Another cultural treasure of Yogyakarta is the coffee. Everyone who’s ever craved a "cup of java" probably guessed that some of the world’s best beans originate from this island. The night before, we had tracked down a representative cup at nearby Café Excelso – the coffee was fine, mellow and a little winey, but it was the rich aroma that sold us. We enjoyed it so much we ended up buying three bags of beans – one each of Sulawesi, Celebes and Sumatra. Those names are probably familiar to Starbucks denizens, but trust me: a 200 ml bag bought in Java will cost you less than a Frappuccino does in Manila.

Less than an hour from the sultan’s palace, we approach Borobudur. This is billed as the largest Buddhist monument in the world, built some 1,200 years ago with 60,000 cubic meters of volcanic rock. Its recent restoration (which took 70 years) labored to preserve not only the 2,600 carved narrative panels and stone decorations, but to avoid using non-original materials (such as concrete) to keep it standing. It’s a fantastic site, though it seems a little anachronistic among its modern, carefully landscaped surroundings.

Sitting atop a newly mown lawn, the six-level Borobudur temple suggests the key levels of Buddhist attainment. It is located at the exact center of the island of Java, 800 kilometers from each border.

Tourist and school groups now make the climb up these stairs to gaze far across Java to the surrounding seas and volcanoes. Nearby, a photographer and local fashion model find it a perfectly iconic spot for a magazine spread. On top of the temple, schoolchildren line up and gaze out to infinity.

Borobudur itself means 10 levels or steps to nirvana. Built around 780 A.D., the temple is said to mark a point in the Buddha’s young life when, after traveling the world, he stopped to rest and meditate under a nearby ficus tree. Buddha was 29 when enlightenment came to him here, and the site tells his story.

Briefly, the Buddhists believe there are four worlds: nirvana, heaven, hell and earth. How you are born – whether rich, poor, prince, king, or criminal – and how you live determines where you will spend your next incarnation. The 500 carved images of Buddha resting in his stupas here attest to his escape from the cycle, or chains of life. The large bell-shaped objects decorating the top layer of this temple also represent those chains: Buddha sits inside, and the window-like openings in the bell represent how, for Buddhists, there are 1,000 ways to break free of those chains. Thus, there are 1,000 Buddhist sects worldwide.

We were taken to another nearby site, Mendut Temple, which contained what was said to be the largest statue of Buddha in Indonesia. People leave their offerings here, flowers and coins and such, but curiously, we were not taken to another Buddhist temple in Yogyakarta – Prambanam. This site – at least in photos I’ve seen – seems very impressive, and it was a shame not to be able to visit this third major temple of Yogyakarta to which Buddhists make a yearly pilgrimage. Really, it would be like going to Florence and seeing Michelangelo’s "David," but failing to see nearby St. Peter’s Basilica. But anyway, we are all but pedestrian pilgrims here, trying to make sense of what is around us. It was fun, if only for a day, to gaze out across Java from atop Borobudur and place ourselves in a contemplative Buddhist mindset. From here, even Mt. Merapi’s rumblings seemed a universe away.