Brume in Bromo

Travel Story by Michelle Ong

Bromo, Indonesia

A small village, Cemoro Lawang, graces a small slope and overlooks Bromo, Mount Semeru at a distance, Mount Batok and Mount Pananjakan. The people who reside here are predominantly Hindu, small offerings left on the ground reminiscent of Bali. Life here follows a relaxed pace, some hotels and tour companies comprise the larger buildings and a few shops selling hats, scarves, gloves and basic necessities.

On the area heading towards Mount Pananjakan, farms stretch out growing corn, cabbage and various other crops, the rich volcanic soil aiding the lush vegetation. Trees similar to poplars grace both sides of the meandering road, and with the mountainous backdrop, images of Germany come to mind.

Here tour companies provide transport to the surrounding attractions by jeep or horse. Buses from Probolinggo drop passengers off who are immediately beset by those working in the tourism industry, demanding to know where they are staying or going.

Small groups of musicians also find their home here, but aren't as aggressively peddling for change like those in the cities. Instead, they belt out ballads and popular radio songs on the steps in front of warungs,

playing for their own pleasure and to pass the time.

The sea of black sand surrounding Bromo and Mount Batok sprouts desert grass and fuchsia and ruby flowers, creating an image of a meadow within a desert. White sand dunes stretch out to the left of Bromo, while the right shows pea-green vegetation that shimmers like a sea at a distance. I heard that the vegetation budding from the sea of sand was a rarity and did not occur during the dry season.

Near Bromo sits a closed Hindu temple, strangely out of place on such a beautifully desolate landscape. At a closer look, the temple seems quite new, very polished but only enclosing a few statues.

At the base of Bromo, small groups of people wait. Some offer horseback rides; others sell snacks and coffee brewed over an open fire. Up the slopes of Bromo and a flight of extremely tiring stairs leads to the lip of the ever-smoking crater. Sulphur fumes bombard the nose and a few men immediately ask you to buy bouquets of flowers to throw as offerings into the crater. Every September an offering ceremony takes place, where people throw in their most precious belongings into the crater. I had arrived at the lip of the crater, wheezing like an old man and immediately sat at the only stone bench available. A flower seller sat beside me and waited until I had caught my breath before he asked if I wanted to buy a bouquet. My friend and I both shook our heads. He and other vendors would comically return every fifteen minutes to see whether we had changed our minds. Even so, the price of the bouquets was quite steep.

From the top of Bromo, a fog approaches and covers the top, completely obscuring the surrounding view. The earth no longer exists and we're transported to the moon.

After a quick stroll down, I enjoyed a short respite on the steps of the temple, watching jeeps and every once in a while a horse passes by. Massive clouds of fog rolled across the sea of sand, completely submerging the opposite side where Cemoro Lawang alights, painting an image of sweet desolation. At 2:30 the next morning, we commenced a two hour climb up Mount Pananjakan – an excellent place to view the sunrise at around 4:45 a.m. Walking towards the base, the farms bordering the road are completely wrapped in fog, giving a ghostly feel to the walk. We stopped at the first viewpoint to avoid missing the sunrise while climbing. No one else joined us and we watched twinkling headlights of jeeps climb up a distant road to the summit. We relished a peach and rose-tinted sunrise, the clouds near Mount Semeru turning a coral hue. Below us, marshmallows cover the valley, the tops of trees peeking through as the sun quickly rises and banishes the fog.

Read more about the author of this story:
Michelle Ong