Borobudur

I sit quietly in a big, green valley in a country called Indonesia. All around me are tall, rumbling mountains called volcanoes, but I am not like them. I am a mountain made of dark, heavy stone, carved by human hands. I have many levels, like giant steps leading up to the sky. At my very top are big, round stone bells with holes in them. If you peek inside each bell, you will see a peaceful statue of the Buddha sitting quietly. I have watched the sun rise and set over this valley for more than a thousand years. I am covered in pictures that tell wonderful stories of kindness, courage, and wisdom. Can you guess what I am. I am Borobudur, a temple of a thousand tales.

I was built a very, very long time ago. It all started around the 8th century. The kind people of the Sailendra Dynasty wanted to build a special place that could teach everyone stories about being wise and caring. For about 75 years, thousands of people worked together to create me. Clever builders stacked and placed my heavy stones just right. Talented artists used their tools to carve stories right into my walls. I have more than two thousand pictures carved in stone. These are called story panels. Walking alongside my walls is like reading a giant stone book. Each picture tells a part of a story, showing people how to live with a good heart. They wanted me to be a guide, a place where anyone could come and learn how to be a better person, just by looking at my walls. Every single stone was placed with care and love.

For hundreds of years, I stood proudly, and many people came to visit me. But then, things started to change. The big volcanoes nearby rumbled and puffed out ash that fell like gray snow. The bright green jungle grew wild and thick all around me. Big leafy vines wrapped around my stone walls, and I was slowly covered by a blanket of leaves and dirt. I fell into a long, quiet sleep, and soon, people forgot I was even here. It was like I had disappeared. Then one day, many years later in 1814, a man from England named Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles heard stories about a great lost temple hidden in the jungle. He sent a team of people to find me. They worked very carefully, clearing away all the dirt and cutting the vines. I could finally see the bright sun and feel the warm air again.

Being woken up was just the beginning. I was old and wobbly, and some of my stones had tumbled down. Many years later, friends from all over the world came together to help fix me. They wanted to make me strong and beautiful again for everyone to enjoy. It was a very big job. This amazing project was finally finished on February 23rd, 1983. Today, I am strong and safe, and I welcome visitors from everywhere. Families and friends climb my steps to watch the golden sunrise from my top levels. They walk along my walls, learning from my stone stories, and feel the peace that surrounds me. I am a special place that reminds everyone that beautiful things, and the stories they tell, can last for a very long time. And I show that stories of kindness are always worth sharing with the world.