At dawn, as the morning sun burns away the fog, the volcanoes of central Java appear out of the mists. To the west rise the giants Sumbing and Sundoro. Northward broods Ungaran. To the south loom Telomoyo and Merbabu, and, lurking behind these, the smouldering Merapi.
From my vantage on the wide veranda of the Losari Coffee Plantation Resort and Spa, the forests of central Java emerge lush and green. I hear the roar of cicadas and see swallows swoop and dive above the treetops. In the bright light, the volcanoes that surround me appear surprisingly benign. They resemble giant Buddhas -- mute, patiently waiting for the universe to unfold.
This small corner of the planet is a vortex of antiquity and power. Only a few kilometres southeast of here lies Sangiran village, where one-million-year-old fossil remains of "Java men" have been excavated. Near the city of Yogyakarta, an hour's drive or less to the west of Sangiran, is the sprawling mandala stupa Borobudur, which many Buddhists regard as the navel of the cosmos. And near Yogyakarta, there is the low hill called Bukit Tidar, the "nail" driven into Java's midpoint that is said to fix the great island to the centre of the Earth. I imagine the whole of Java spinning round this hub, the towering volcanoes wheeling, and I feel a little dizzy.
With a fresh cup of Losari-grown coffee I settle into a lounge chair and absorb this panorama. Seeking a quiet week free of the noise and chaos of Jakarta, I boarded a one-hour flight to Yogyakarta and then rented a car and driver for the two-hour journey north to Losari, located in the heartland of Javanese history and culture.
Losari is a Javanese word that means "essence of the trees." At the edge of the small highland village of the same name, the plantation sprawls across 22 hectares of lush hillside. Its delicious robusta coffee benefits from the coolness of the 900-metre elevation. Attached to the plantation is a luxury hotel and spa that, while providing every modern amenity, also echoes the traditional style of Java. Guests are welcomed to villas that are transplanted and restored family homes -- in some cases, the homes of Javanese royalty.
On foot, I set out from the reception pavilion, an old railway station restored and installed in front of Losari's main gate. A narrow path draws me past a small secluded mosque and directly into the coffee fields. The low bushes with their Christmas-red cherries -- coffee, I remember, is a fruit -- occupy seemingly every corner of the property. On this day, the beans are still unripe and not yet ready for harvest.
Along the path, I bump into Eko Yulianto, a local horticulturist and traditional herbalist. Hearing that my raucous Jakarta sendoff has left me with a mild hangover, Yulianto leads me along to his jamu stand and its trays of remedies: turmeric, cardamom, chili peppers, and various types of ginger root. He concocts a tall glass of a bitter yellowish drink heavy with ginger and other spices that instantly makes me feel better. Later, after an afternoon that passes too quickly, I relax in an armchair and enjoy the tinkling gamelan sounds that drift up the slope.
The next morning I launch out, before dawn, to make the short drive to one of Java's most neglected yet most spectacular sites.
Gedung Songo, which means "nine buildings," lies in the foothills of the volcano Ungaran, about 20 kilometres north of Losari. On the ridges flanking a wide natural amphitheatre, this delicate necklace of small Hindu temples was erected during the eighth century. These shrines, set near bubbling hot springs, were dedicated to Shiva and Vishnu. Only five buildings survive in good condition.
I hike the easy path up the slope. Banks of cold grey fog roll over the mountain and tumble into the valley. The bowl of land is well terraced, but few plots are being cultivated and the landscape has a lonely, haunted look. One by one, the temples drift into view. The monuments were long ago looted of their ornaments but I am pleased to find images of a yoni (a Hindu symbol of femininity), a barong (knife), and the god Ganesha. The sun comes out and brightens the hibiscus, the tall pines, the rose gardens.
