|
|||||||
|
|||||||
|
|||||||
mm |
|
||||||
Baby Moslem girl Batiks, batiks, so many batiks
Prambanan Hindu Temple |
YOGYAKARTA, JAVA My goal in Yogya was to take a batik class from Dr. Hadjir. I located him early in the day and learned the class ran from 12:30 - 5:00. That allowed me several hours to roam (and sweat profusely). I did buy one batik. I wanted it as a pattern for my class. My batik class was harder than I ever imagined. Those tools didn't seem to work with my fingers. Either the wax wouldn't run or it globbed, but here was progress by the end of the day. However, I spent most of my time on an abstract. I made it clear that I didn't like doing abstracts. He gave me cotton to design my own art work. Normal students never tried anything so complicated, but Dr. Hadjir never told me that when I showed him my design. Just before I finished, the artist whose work I copied passed by. He said it took him five days to do one but he worked on ten at a time. One batik was enough for me. Yogya, as the city is called, was a tourist trap. I couldn't walk anywhere without being stopped. There were two major groups of offenders -- bicycle taxi drivers and batik merchants. For sanity purposes, I took to being deaf, walking on, or bluntly saying I had no interest in batiks. PRAMBANAN HINDU TEMPLE I visited the Prambanan Hindu temple complex, constructed in the mid-ninth century, on my own without a tour. It reminded me of a mini-Angkor Wat. What I enjoyed most was not the ruins but a group of Moslem school girls who wanted to be photographed with me. Then, I photographed them. Had I taken the tour, I would have gone to a batik and silver shop. Instead, I took a tricycle ride to Candi (temple) Sewu, a Buddhist complex a stone's throw away. Okay, a three kilometer throw. Then, I went on to the Phaosan Temples. These were finally free to enter but getting there past rice fields was the best part. |
||||||
MARTIN | |||||||
Copyright
1998 by Phillip Martin All rights reserved.
.. |