As I’m writing this, it’s the 1st day of September and also a Monday. I read a few people say that this means something – a fresh beginning. I didn’t pay much attention to them (sorry) until I realised this was the day Mairéad and I would be going to see Mount Bromo in East Java, at sunrise.
We had to leave our hostel at 1:30am so I obviously didn’t sleep – I sometimes don’t even go to bed when I need to be up for 6am because unfortunately that’s how I’m wired when I have no schedule, see “everything good happens after 2am”.
Leggings and trainers on, with a jumper and jacket packed for the first time in 6 months, I felt light on my feet. I was wide awake in the minibus – window open, a strong wind further messing up my still-drying hair.
I don’t remember what time it was when we transferred into a jeep. Mairéad and I were squeezed into the front for this part of the journey, looking out into the pitch-black. At one point Mairéad’s door flung open, so good job we were going snail-speed when it did. It was a bumpy journey. We drove further and further up a hill, until our driver parked and told us to keep walking up.
We passed stands of food, souvenirs, and people trying to get us to use their toilets for a small fee – which I actually really appreciated at that moment. The affect of the altitude kicked in so we took it slowly, and I started to make out the shapes of mountains. What struck me though, was the sky. I saw more stars than I’d seen in so long – I could identify where constellations were without someone else pointing them out, which was a first for me. The clusters had me completely mesmerised as I dodged past jeeps and bikes calling “taxi bike” to us, hoping we couldn’t hack the hill.
There were so many tall daisies around. I love that about travelling – you can research something like a Mount Bromo sunrise tour, but how likely is it that you’ll learn there are hundreds of perfect daisies paving the way to the viewpoint? Fumbling through the dark, we found a spot on a ledge with nobody in front of us. When we looked straight ahead, we could see the sun starting to rise – the famous volcano to our right.
Photo credit for most of the photos in this post goes to
– who’s taller than me so gets better angles and – I don’t know why I’m beating around the bush, she’s just a better photographer than me.
We couldn’t believe our eyes. The red and orange in the sky was its own kind of poem – a verse following on from the stars. A volcano erupted, and I watched, stunned, as the fumes formed patterns. I’d never seen volcanoes before today.
There was another eruption. People’s fingertips snapped their photos. I know people go on about touristy places being busy but as a tourist who’s very part of the problem, I keep my mouth shut. As long as nobody’s pushing me, I choose to see something beautiful in the crowd. And honestly, it was beautiful – everyone sounded so happy. Gasping, smiling, selfie-taking – but photos didn’t overrule the moment. I could still take in the reality of what was happening – trying to make sure the memory made a permanent imprint somewhere in my mind.
Mairéad and I had brought along our penguins for the trip. They’re special, because when spent a weekend in Manchester back in 2023 – before I went to work in Lapland for 6 weeks – Mairéad presented me with a Christmas gift on the train. A fluffy penguin stuffed toy, because penguins are my favourite. Now, I’d got her quite a few gifts to unwrap while I was away – a calendar of sorts – but there was only one I hadn’t wrapped up, knowing I wanted her to have it straightaway.
A penguin, identical to the one she was holding. I pulled it out my bag, laughing in disbelief. Swapping our penguins over – one ready to get on a plane to Belfast, and the other coming with me to Finland – we decided that this was soul-mate level stuff (thank you WHSmith).
So, now we carry these penguins around with us travelling. We haven’t always remembered to snap pictures of them at viewpoints, but this time we did.
Sun risen, we made our way back down to meet our driver. We kept stopping to take more photos along the way. I normally see golden hour before sunset – not so much in the mornings – so I felt delighted by all the pastel colours. The colours of all the jeeps also made me happy – I hadn’t been able to make them out properly when we’d arrived in the dark.
We drove up towards the crater of Mount Bromo – sincerely, it felt like being in a film. Surreal, cinematic. We got out the jeep, ready to walk across the sea of sand in stunning surroundings – air warm, sun shining, the sky so blue.
Men holding horses with dyed manes tried to get us to pay for rides up to the top. I felt a lot of sympathy for the horses. We kept hiking upwards – as I reached the 250 steep steps, I was grateful for the little rest-stops along the way. I could pretend I was stopping for the views, when really I just needed to catch my breath. But to get to the top and look into it was incredible.
I couldn’t get over the beauty of it all.
So then we started descending to make sure we met our driver for 8am – how was it only 8am??? – and then we drove back to our hostel, changing back into our minivan along the way. I was writing in my phone’s Notes app about how happy and alive I felt, my Spotify offline back-up mode mostly playing nostalgic Taylor Swift songs. I was excited to come back and write this post and maybe watch some more Love is Blind UK. The room in the hostel we’re staying in doesn't have a lot, but to my surprise it does have a TV with Netflix.
Unsurprisingly though, when we arrived at 10am – after getting Mairéad to send her photos to me because I knew she’d likely fall asleep for a while – I also completely passed out. So I’m currently writing this at 5:30pm, in the dark, because Mairéad’s still asleep and I don’t want to wake her up yet (we only have one big light).
I don’t normally document my experiences like this in real-time, especially not so in-depth, but I guess I’m caught up in the idea of new beginnings (despite the fact that I spent 6 hours of the day asleep). As a September Virgo, this is supposed to be “my” month. Often, in reality, that actually means self-doubt and questioning my entire life up until this point, but I want to change that this year.
Because if I were to question my choices this year, I’d be questioning all the happiness I’ve felt. I’d be questioning all the things I’ve learnt. I’d be questioning the first year I’ve known exactly how much money I’m earning vs. spending, and managing financial responsibility alongside travel experiences. For full transparency, the tour I just described to you cost me £27 (not including a tip).
Today was another day I felt really grateful to be alive – and unfortunately, across the world, I don’t know how normal that feeling is. I know it certainly didn’t used to be normal to me. So regardless of what anyone has to say about my choices in life, it would be an injustice of me to even consider giving in to their judgements/expectations – questioning all of this. I owe it to myself to be proud of where I am, and who I am. In so many ways, this is what I dreamed my life could be. No, better – I never dreamt about a morning like today’s… I didn’t even know it was possible.
Wherever you are, and whatever you’re doing – whether it’s the 1st September 2025, or you’re reading this 3 years from now in the middle of May – I hope life is being good to you.
And if today didn’t feel like a new beginning, tomorrow still could. Or the next day. Or the next. Or the next…
And new beginnings can be whatever you want them to be.
Thank you again
for always being our photographer 💜
Wow, these photos are so beautiful! As a fellow September Virgo, I really relate to the feeling of September 1st being a new beginning. I’m also an Emily and write about queerness, so I think we have a few things in common! Love your writing, have just subscribed ☺️
The photos are stunning! What an amazing part of the world. Added to my list :)