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Where Air is Water
I wish I had taken ballet as a kid. The pirouettes I force myself into, avoiding seemingly inevitable collisions with scooters and cars, on roads that have no sidewalks to speak of and drains wider than a cat is long, would make my grandmother proud. Add to that the scrapes on my hand and pride…
Stamps With a Story
Tracing the intricate calligraphy, an old Japanese man smiles and looks over at his granddaughter. He downs the last of his long neck Asahi Super Dry and lets out a boisterous laugh. “I can’t believe you’ve taken up a pastime beloved by elderly Japanese men,” he chuckles. I am sitting with my friend Yayoi in…
A Christian Walks Into a Strip Club
Bare breasts are in my face, the stripper’s top hanging loosely from the bar stool next to me. I feel like I’ve descended into hell. The room is bathed in a red glow, like fire is enveloping the place, while disco balls spin delicately from above, illuminating men who watch the main stage with fervent…
This Train is Bound for Tomorrow
On a late-night train, there was a girl. I faintly recall a scarf, round cheeks and bangs long enough that they caught on her eyelashes. Her hands fluttered to the cadence of her voice. Her leg was warm against mine. I don’t remember her name. One of the senior girls from Osaka University’s karate club…
Finding Love in Lisbon
Following a few blissful weeks of drinking more cheap spirit mixers than water and eating nothing but pastries from some of Europe’s finest bakeries and hostel breakfast tables, I’ve come down with an inevitable bout of sore throat and laziness. I’m sitting in the hostel common room playing Jenga while the sun beams onto Lisbon’s…
The Fiestas of San Fermin
The Running of the Bulls is what put the sleepy Spanish town of Pamplona on the map, but this pub dare gone way too far is merely the pointy end of a larger fiesta held there annually. Ernest Hemingway, Pamplona’s favourite backpacker, wrote of San Fermín in ‘The Sun Also Rises’. He said that by…
How I Decided
It's a Sunday afternoon. I'm home in Milan rolling in bed after my Saturday night shift. I receive a message: it's my best friend Tommy, who lives in Australia. He's texting me and Ivan, who lives in Berlin. 15:36 – Asia on the 6th of January? I answer instinctively. Yes, I wish. Same, says Ivan.…
A Gringo Goes to Salvador’s Carnival
When you hear 'Ziriguidum', you’re required to put both hands on your knees and bend down like you’re addressing an imaginary, ground-borne squirrel. Once you’re in that position – knees bent 45 north, waist 45 south – you extend your right arm to full, then the fingers on your right hand totally, as if hand-gesturing to…
A Lonely Planet Surprise in India
My stay in Rajasthan’s Royal City of Udaipur was intended to be a Lonely Planet special: accommodation, eating and sightseeing all planned out by an expert travel writer. But, as is relatively common knowledge, Lonely Planet mostly tends to be a collection of drab instructions written by someone whose idea of a shoestring budget is…
I Bought a $1500 Sailboat in Florida
It was a Friday afternoon in Florida; I had a couple of beers in me and a vague idea of a good deal and an adventure. "This is the kind of challenge I´ve been looking for," was how I reassured myself as I handed over the first cash instalment. I didn't even know how to…

Astray is a storytelling project centred on travel, community, identity and liberation.

We’re based out of Lenapehoking / New York City: the homeland of the Lenape. Specifically, we’re in Manhattan: a name that comes from Mannahatta, meaning “island of many hills”. As grateful guests in this city, we recognize the strength and resilience of the Lenape, and extend our reverence to all Indigenous peoples everywhere. This acknowledgement comes from our commitment to working against the ongoing legacies of settler colonialism.