Waiting for the sunrise at the end of the world.

I hate mountains.

They are exhausting, and the reward of being moved by the experience is not worth the effort; the cost-performance is terrible.
Even so, I traveled around the mountains of Indonesia.

Mount Merapi, an active volcano. In the darkness before dawn, I aimed for the summit while gasping for air. The footing was slippery with volcanic ash, and when I stopped, exhausted, local children smiled and pulled me along by my outstretched hand, helping me reach the summit somehow.

At the summit, the children shared the cup noodles they had brought. I slurped them down with chilled fingers. The warmth of the steam soaked into my body and tickled my nose. The taste was not just of noodles, but of the kindness I encountered on this mountain. From the rugged mountainside, white volcanic smoke rose quietly, vividly showing me a living Earth.

To get to Mount Bromo, I rode a horse across the Sea of Sand early in the morning. The surroundings were still twinkling with stars and wrapped in silence. Before long, the eastern sky began to brighten, and the Bromo crater revealed itself. What spread out before my eyes was the end of the world.

It was truly 'The end of the world'.

Like a lunar crater after a nuclear blast, the rugged, rocky crater opened its mouth wide in the middle of a landscape of sand that stretched on forever. At the bottom of the caldera sat Mount Batok, another volcano, and beyond it, the volcanic smoke of Mount Semeru was faintly visible. I stood there, simply stunned, feeling the restless surge of the air as if the Earth's energy were condensed there.

Mount Kelimutu on Flores Island is famous for its three-colored lakes.
It is said that the lake surfaces, illuminated by the morning sun, each hold different colors and create a mystical atmosphere. The three lakes, named 'Lake of Old People,' 'Lake of Young Men and Maidens,' and 'Bewitched Lake,' are said to change colors from time to time.
The colors I saw were black, black, and blue—nothing more than plain.

Each of the three mountains showed me a different personality.

When I returned to the guesthouse from Mount Kelimutu, the worst possible ending was waiting for me.

The moment I put my hand into my backpack pocket, a chill ran down my spine. No matter how much I searched, I couldn't find my wallet. There was a reason why this guesthouse was cheaper than the others in the area. It was a thief's den.

As I thought, I hate mountain climbing.

—Ah, once again, I mutter to myself in a strange, foreign land.