Discovering Mystical Borobudur

Discovering Mystical Borobudur - Maarten Schafer

March 06, 2026

We arrived at Borobudur just after sunrise. The sky was still gray, the jungle around us damp from the night before. Our guide, Pak Wayan, greeted us at the gate with a wide smile.

"Good morning, are you ready for a climb through time?"

"Only if there's coffee at the top," I replied.

He laughed. "Maybe enlightenment first, then coffee."

We followed him past the groups waiting at the usual starting point. Instead of beginning at the base, he took a sharp left and led us toward a empty stairway.

“Most visitors start on the ground floor,” he explained, “but it is already busy there. We go directly to level three. You can thank me later when you see the photos.”

Level three was quiet, almost still. The view opened up over the lush green jungle surrounding the temple. Mist was rising from the trees, and only a few other early risers had made it up here.

Borobudur is massive—built in the 9th century, made entirely of volcanic stone, layered like a wedding cake. Each level represents a step in Buddhist cosmology: from the world of desire at the base to enlightenment at the top.

Pak Wayan pointed to the intricate stone reliefs along the walls.

“These panels tell stories,” he said. “This one is about the birth of Buddha. And this… is a scene from his first sermon.”

Anouk leaned in for a better look. “They carved all of this by hand?”

He nodded. “Thousands of stones. And no glue. Gravity. That’s what holds Borobudur together. And maybe some prayers.”

We continued climbing. At each level, Pak Wayan shared more stories—the kings who commissioned it, the volcanic eruptions that buried it, and the British officer who rediscovered it 1000 years later.

At the top level, we stood among the famous bell-shaped stupas. Each one held a statue of Buddha inside, visible through diamond-shaped openings in the stone.

“Touch the Buddha through the hole and make a wish,” Pak Wayan said.

“Do you grant the wishes too?” I asked, holding out my phone.

“Only if you give me five stars on TripAdvisor,” he shot back, and then graciously offered to take some photos of us.

Anouk and I posed awkwardly, laughed, adjusted our hair, and then stood still as he took ten photos from slightly different angles. Social media is serious business.

“Now your story can be shared with your friends and family,” he said, handing back the phone.