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Drawing by Julie Seyler.
2:53 in the morning. Who else is up?
Mid-Night Crisis: Sleepless
24 Thursday Oct 2013
Author Archives: WS50
Indonesia, Part 3: Temples; Shopping
22 Tuesday Oct 2013
Buying shadow puppets. All photos by Julie Seyler.
BY JULIE SEYLER
One thing you can count on when you travel are the touts that mass you as you emerge from the tourist sight-du-jour. Be it the Colosseum in Rome, the Pyramids in Egypt, or, as had recently happened to me, the temples in Central Java – the pitch and plea is identical. With near-perfect English, you are beseeched with, “How much you want to pay for that?” and “Here this is for you!” as something is shoved in your face.
I love the whole process! I am just the person these marketers of local wares are looking for, because I am a tchotchke collector. I can’t get enough of the wooden masks, puppets and other paraphanelia that are stockpiled in the outdoor stalls. I was thrilled when we made our way out of Candi, Mendut where Buddha sits with such serene majesty,
and were bombarded with offers to buy “stuff.” There was an explosion of possibilities: the wooden shadow puppets known as wayang klitik used in shadow puppet shows, the topeng masks, miniature bronze Buddhas and countless Batik sarongs. Had I not been with Lingga, our wonderful tour guide, and Steve, I could have spent hours going up and down the stalls looking at the minor variations of the exact same things, and never getting exasperated. But I was not alone. I had two pairs of eyes trained on me in utter disbelief that I could possibly derive such pleasure from paying too much for the Indonesian equivalent of a souvenir of the Statue of Liberty. In any case, “window” shopping was not an option. Prambanan, a whole other temple complex, beckoned:
Prambanan was built around the same time as Borobudur, but its structure is completely different. Instead of one large temple designed as a mandalic maze, there are separate temples, ranging as high as 157 feet, with interior chambers designed to house a statue of a Hindu god:
Durga, Shiva’s wife, in Shiva’s Temple.
The three largest temples are dedicated to the gods Shiva (“The Destroyer”), Vishnu (“The Preserver”), and Brahma (“The Creator”); the smaller temples to other deities. As in Borobudur, the stone blocks that comprise the temple are masterfully chiseled to tell a story, this time of Lord Rama, the hero of the great Indian epic The Ramayana and the natural world around him where monkeys may sit contemplatively under a tree:
We scaled and circumnavigated the six temples in Prambanan, following the protocol of walking from east to west, and even though we had begun the day at 4:30 a.m. with Borobudur, and had seen three other temples before even arriving at Prambanan, there were more to visit. I could see that Steve, who for some crazy reason does not share my passion for shopping and temples, was becoming glassy-eyed. Visions of the hotel pool and a cold beer danced in his head:
I could not be that easily dissuaded. I mean, here we were in Indonesia. When was the next time we would get to see the ruins of Sewu and Candi Kalasan? We reached a compromise and chose one: Kalasan, the oldest on the Prambanan plain:
It cannot be entered, but the facade is peopled with what seemed like dozens of ornately carved Kala heads. These bug-eyed creatures are found on all of the temples, but the ones gracing the porticos here were especially exquisite: 
Then it really was time to end temple viewing.
The next day started with the hotel staff in Yogyakarta singing Happy Birthday because I was now 58. It ended with Beef Rendang and a Bintang beer in Denpasar, Bali:
Check out the double layer cake with chocolate icing and a candle.
In between there was a rickshaw ride to visit the Sultan’s Palace,
Balustrade of outdoor pavilion of the Sultan’s Palace.
a live musical performance of the traditional Indonsian orchestra known as the gamelan, where the instruments may look familiar like xylophones, or unfamiliar, like hanging frying pans and covered cooking pots:
And an excursion to the market with a final stop at a shop that makes gamelan instruments by hand:
The next day we took off for Flores Island. It was time to begin the journey to see the Komodo dragons.
Indonesia, Part 2: Borobudur
17 Thursday Oct 2013
Posted in Travel
I am a temple fiend. I was converted in 1999, when I arrived in Khajuraho, India, and laid eyes on the 100-meter-tall monuments dedicated to the belief that Tantric worship leads to a higher power. The passion was solidified when I climbed up the steps of Angkor Wat in Cambodia in 2003. I was determined that one day I would visit Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in the world. It is located on the Indonesian island of Java, and was built between the 8th and 11th centuries AD, thereby falling on the same timeline as Angkor and Khanjuharo. And like those two sites, Borobudur is designated a World Heritage Sight.
Corner view of Borobudur looking east.
On Monday September 30, 2013 I was there in time to catch the sunrise, except that, that morning clouds dominated. It did not matter. The pure majesty of this testament to nirvana exerts its power regardless of weather. I mean, check this guy out:
The temple consists of a network of over two million stones fitted together to tell stories and teach morals. It spans 15,000 square feet, and towers up to the sky on nine different platforms, each of which gets slightly smaller as you ascend. As you walk east to west, the panels may reveal the biography of Prince Siddhartha from his mother’s dream of how he was conceived to how he learned the lessons that became the tenets of Buddhism:
From the story of Buddha, Level 3.
Under the Bodhi tree.
Or there may be a series of pictorial depictions of “modern” life in 900 AD in central Java:
Horse and carriage.
There are various theories as to who built Borobudur, and why it was built. But from the minimal knowledge I gleaned, the inherent raison d’etre for its existence sprung from an inherent spirituality. Borobudur is a three dimensional representation of the path we must follow to reach nirvana. An architectural roadmap to Buddhism.
The first level contains friezes of what happens when one is dissolute and selfish vs. honorable and charitable:
See how sad and pinched they are?
Another lower level contains scenes of desire:
There are more sinuous curves at this lower level than higher above.
But by the time you have entered Level 3, you are ready to be introduced to the prophecy of the man who was born as Prince Siddhartha and died as the Buddha:
This level, as well as Levels 2, 4, 5, and 6, are built in a square formation. Each platform contains rows of cross-legged, seated Buddhas in near identical poses. Four hundred and thirty two Buddhas decorate the four facades of these six lower levels, and depending if you are facing north, south, east, or west, the Buddha’s right hand changes position in accordance with a spiritual teaching. In the east, the right hand clasps the knee. In the south, Buddha’s palm is turned up to the sky. In the west, the Buddhas are meditating. And in the north, the palm is extended out. (Even though our guide Lingga was wonderfully informative, I had to buy the book to find out more.):
East-facing Buddhas.
South-facing Buddha.
North-facing Buddha.
West-facing Buddhas.
Then the whole layout changes. Instead of corners, the path turns circular. There are no sharp edges as one moves closer and closer to nirvana in Levels 7, 8 and 9:
Pictorial depiction of Borobudur showing 6 square levels and 3 circular.
In these three levels, the Buddhas are no longer exposed – they are enclosed in 72 separate lattice belled stupas:
Stupas.
So we walked round and round, and I tried to absorb as much as I could, but it would take many many visits to fully comprehend all that is Borobudur.
And then it was time to say goodbye, and eat breakfast, and move on to more temples:
Indonesia, Part 1: Kalimantan
15 Tuesday Oct 2013
The Sekonyer River. Kalimantan. All photos by Julie Seyler.
To get to Indonesia from New York City takes about 24 hours door to door. It is a small sacrifice because this country, which is composed of over 17,000 islands, delivers everything from Komodo dragons to golf courses; fine art museums to volcano treks; the cleanest of seas; the nicest of people. In a little over two weeks, Steve and I managed to cram in five different destinations on four islands.
The first destination was Kalimantan in Indonesian Borneo, and a boat ride up the Sekonyer River through Tanjung Puting National Park to Camp Leakey to see the orangutans:
Camp Leakey was established by Birute Galdikas in 1971 to protect and rehabilitate orangutans that were being poached and killed for a profit. Today they thrive!
The viewing conditions are somewhat staged by the preset 10:00 and 2:00 feeding times, when bunches of bananas are dropped on 12-foot high viewing platforms. Slowly, on cue, the orangutans emerge from their hidden haunts, and the performance of their dining process commences:
Feeding platform for the orangutans.
But, the predictability does not in any manner diminish the fascination of watching these grand primates, and their endlessly expressive faces, change from anger to docility as they play with their buddies, entertain themselves, and protect their young ones:
They are the great ape most like us, and to the extent we are a culture that loves selfies, the orangutans present different, but familiar images of who we are at our core: moody, playful, hungry and protective:
- Playing.
- Eating.
- Protecting.
And of course, the excursion into the rainforest was not just about the orangutans. There were so many other things to take in: luscious vegetation in every shape, variety and texture that hugged the meandering curves in the river, plants shaped as pitchers, and trees so dependent on each other they grew into each other:
Pitcher plants. Tanjung Puting National Park. Kalimantan.
Tree on tree.
There were long-tailed macaques, and probocis monkeys with Cyrano de Bererac noses, huddled in groups in the tree tops, swinging from limb to limb, solitary gibbons and wild boar:
-
Check out the nose.
A long tail.
A gibbon watching us watching him.
A wild boar crosses the road.
But this vista, and these animals, which have been part of the earth for millions of years, are at risk for demolition and destruction. It should not be surprising that the battle for preserving the world’s natural heritage is not confined to the debate over the Keystone Pipeline. In Borneo, the ever expanding palm oil estates are winning over conservation efforts and the Sekonyer River – once pitch black and clear – is now more dank and muddy – a perpetual reminder of the pollution from upriver mining:
Off the main “road” of the Sekonyer River. Tanjung Puting National Park. Kalimantan.
View of Sekonyer River and Tanjung Puting Park from plane.
So I was left with one thought: Don’t let these guys down, and made a donation to the Orangutan Foundation:
Compassion.
A smile.
Cyrano de Bergerac.
Grooming.
The Saturday Blog: Barbells
12 Saturday Oct 2013
Posted in Art
It’s Saturday. Avoid all heavy lifting.
I’m a Scammed Artist
10 Thursday Oct 2013
“Twisted 2: Josie & David’s Lovers.”
Hello from Bali. Steve and I fly home on Saturday, October 12. We arrive Sunday morning around 7:00, and the post–vacation routine commences. The mail is retrieved; the bills are sorted; the bags are unpacked. And the dirty laundry is washed. That first night home, you go to sleep with a different feeling because the illusion of being an unemployed vagabond without a money care in the world is replaced with the dread of obligations that have stockpiled on your desk over the past two weeks. The unfettered bliss of suspended reality is dashed to smithereens in about 24 hours. So, in anticipation that real life is about to descend, I shall tell you the tale from August (which is still on my mind), of Kimberly Collier.
On August 17, I received an email from Kimberly Collier:
Hello,
My name is Kimberly Collier. I am interested in purchasing an artwork from you. Kindly write back with your webpage so that I can view more of your recent works.
Thanks.
Kimberly
That was cool. She had seen some samples of my work on the website Artsicle. I sent her the link to my personal website, julieseyler.com, and the next morning, I found this message waiting in my Inbox:
Hi Julie,
Thank you for the email. I am interested in making an immediate purchase of the work “twisted 2: josie & david’s lovers oil 52” x 30””. Can I have a detailed information about the work, its availability and pricing? As soon as we reach a concrete agreement on pricing, I can instruct my p.a to process a cashiers check to you for the payment of the work so that my mover can have it picked up along with my properties that are to be moved to Munich.
I await your email soonest.
Regards,
Kimberly.
This was even cooler, so I sent her the requested information, and received a reply:
Hi Julie,
Thank you for the mail. I am ok with the price of the work but I want you to deduct the shipping charges from the cost as my mover will take care of the pick up and delivering to my new resident in Munich. He has other properties to pick up for me so he would get the work along with other boxes. But before then, your cash must be at hand. Can you provide me with your full name as you want it appeared on the check, your full address which includes(street name, house number, city, state and zip code) to ensure safe delivery and your working phone number where my mover can easily reach you at. As soon as I get these details, I will fwd it to my p.a so that he can go ahead with the issuance of the check to you after you must arrived back on Saturday, August 24.
I happy to have this piece purchased as it would look good on the walls of my guest room.
Thanks.
Kimberly
But there were a few logistical problems in getting the painting to Ms. Collier. I was down at the beach in Allenhurst. The painting was in a warehouse in Union. And the keys to the warehouse were in Manhattan. Even if we did get it, I could not get it home because it would never fit in the roadster, and the schedule for the next seven days was crazy. Somehow, we had to get the painting back to New York City that Sunday.
Steve had his van, but he preferred keeping it in New Jersey, rather than dealing with parking in the city. But after numerous back and forths (and back and forths), the only option was to drive the van back to Manhattan, then back to Union to pick up the painting, then back to Manhattan. Two trips in, and one trip out, of the Lincoln Tunnel in a period of three hours on a Sunday afternoon in August is not anyone’s idea of fun. Plus, I kept fretting that Kimberly Collier would change her mind. Steve, always my supporter, said, “Don’t worry. Of course she wants the painting.”
Monday morning I e-mailed Kimberly Collier that I had the painting, and we could start making arrangements for her to send the money, and pick it up.
Two hours later, I received this email from Artsicle:
On Saturday, a variety of you received an email via the new messaging system from “Kimberly Collier” requesting more information about your work. Sadly, this is part of a known scam involving fake cashiers checks. I recommend you do not respond to this request – or simply delete the email chain if you already have.
What a bummer. But after talking to the people at Artsicle, it was confirmed that the scammers really do want the art – they just want it for free. To me, that was better than being taken just for the money.
In retrospect, there were lots of little hints this was a scam. No one pays for anything without knowing the return policy.
You Can Dress Me Up Like a Lobster Timbale (or a Sea Urchin on Pedigreed Pea) …
09 Wednesday Oct 2013
Posted in Food
Lobster timbale at Le Bernardin.
… but you should not take someone like me, whose favorite food is sourdough pretzels with aged cheddar cheese, to haute cuisine restaurants. The appreciation factor for sea urchin on a pedigreed pea with lemon zest is not going to fly high. Nonetheless, for years I have tried to be more of a gourmand rather than someone who is a repetitive orderer of spaghetti with tomatoes and basil. I am, by my own admission, boring to dine with. Plus I think people with refined palettes are more sensual than the plebe that goes for sirloin. On the other hand, one could make a good argument that nothing is sexier than a rare steak.
Steak, albeit not rare enough for some.
Anyway, this summer I had a chance to dine at Le Bernardin, one of the premier restaurants in Manhattan – or so say the pundits of the food world: Le Bernardin. To a great degree, the dishes live up to their reputation (charred octopus, Alaskan King Crab “Crabouillabaisse,” and lobster timbale appetizers), but to me, a reveler of simple grilled fish, I was slightly underwhelmed by my Dover Sole, where the restaurant tagged on an $18 supplement to the $130 prix fixe. It arrived seared and tough – as in dried out – although the “Brown-Butter Tamarind Vinaigrette,” as it was described, sang rapturously. Nonetheless, the balance of the experience left me more convinced than ever that the best restaurants are not on any media lists.
Happy Birthday (to Me!) from Indonesia
01 Tuesday Oct 2013
Posted in Travel
Tags
Bali, Birthday, Java, Julie Seyler, The Write Side of 50, Travel, Yogyakarta
No matter where I am, I clink on my birthday (October 2012 in New York).
I turned 58 today in Yogyakarta, Java. According to my trip itinerary we shall be flying at 7:55 a.m. back to Bali, where we travel to Pemuteran in the far north of the island for a couple of days of snorkeling. We may see a waterfall, and a temple or two, along the way, and hopefully will stop at a market to go souvenir shopping – one of my favorite things to do. I am a complete tourist, and adore shopping for tchotchkes that I would not see back at home. (Although these days we live in such a global world, everything seems to be available online.)
So my birthday is a travel day, and that’s fine. I will be doing something that I don’t usually do on my birthday – like driving in Indonesia. And will definitely do something I always do – celebrate.
The Saturday Blog: Old
28 Saturday Sep 2013
Old tiles.
Old signs.
Old man.
Things to cherish before they slip away. Or are torn away. Or pass away.
Private Planes Bring Clearer Skies
25 Wednesday Sep 2013
We over-50s came of age just at the time when air travel was becoming dominant. We saw the decline and fall of the dominance of rail and steamship travel.
I can remember when I was a kid, we went to bon voyage parties aboard the cruise ships my grandparents were taking to Italy. I can remember my school friends taking the train to Miami. But by the end of the 1960s, it was all air travel.
Back in those pre-terrorism-mentality days, people who were meeting a flight could go right to the gate. Needless to say, there was no searching of passengers, and their carry-ons, although simple metal detectors were brought in after people began hijacking planes to Cuba.
Anyway, people our age grew up with air travel. It wasn’t special like it was for our parents. It was just transportation, faster than the train or steamship. And that speed meant that getting there quickly took a priority over enjoying the sights along the way. While trains had big, glass-enclosed touring cars so that you could see the countryside, airliners climbed to 40,000 feet, and showed you the tops of clouds.
But air travel doesn’t have to be this get-there-quick-with-the-shades-drawn-while-we-watch-a-movie-and-eat experience. It’s possible for air travel to be just as leisurely, and scenic, as train travel – you just have to know someone who has their own plane. 
Fortunately, I have a friend my age who learned how to fly his own plane after he reached the right side of 50. Brian lives in upstate New York, and flies his plane all over the East Coast. Sometimes he flies down to a small airport in New Jersey, and visits with me and my wife (we were all college classmates together). And sometimes we drive to where he is and he takes us up for a scenic view.
Recently, we drove to Cape Cod to meet Brian and his 92-year-old mom. Brian had his plane at the Provincetown Airport, and he took my wife and me up for a leisurely tour of the end of Cape Cod. We were high enough to get the Google Earth perspective of the Cape, but close enough to the ground to see the details of houses and shoreline below us. It was marvelous.
While we were out flying, there were some hot air balloons in the distance and it occurred to me that that is another way to get a leisurely air view. It’s travel where the trip is all the fun, and you get there when you get there. That type of travel is more and more appealing to me all the time. My wife and I will be taking a Mediterranean cruise next month, and I look forward to just sitting on my balcony and watching the world go by. I don’t know whether that means I’m getting old, or just that I have come to appreciate taking the time to stop and smell the roses. I like to think it’s the latter.
The Write Side of 59 