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Summer Romance
Ten years ago, I lived on an island off the coast of Honduras. It was summer when I was there. It was summer almost all the year. The air was hot and buttery; day lasted long into the night. Through the afternoons, men played dominoes in the shade beneath the mango trees. In the evenings,…
Adios, Motherfucker
What’s the most quintessential injury an Aussie can get in Bali? A scooter accident. Okay, what’s the second most? Animal Bite. What’s the third—actually, forget it. Picture this, it’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and you’ve just down a beverage called Adios Motherfucker. Sorry, Adios Motherfu*cker. Can’t forget the oddly placed asterisk; it’s honestly charming.…
The Last Cigarette
Nothing ever changes where I’m from. It’s small-town forgotten suburbia where fuck all happens and everything stays the same. No one knows where they’re going – we just know we want out. We claw at the lip of the sewer lid, only to fall back in, left to sizzle out in a cesspit like a…
A Balinese Quest for Magic Mushrooms
When people say drugs are a gateway, their minds often jump straight to visions of calamity and misfortune. More often than not, drugs provide a gateway to the next adventure. An escapade you would never have possibly found yourself on, had it not been for the quest to alter your reality. In my case, on…
Rush Hour Sucks Everywhere
In Tokyo, rush hour extends to 8pm. Not because of systemic inefficiency, but simply because lots of people work later than 6 o'clock. And I am one of those unlucky folk. When I was back home in Perth -- behind my steering wheel in bumper-to-bumper traffic, dreaming of life in Tokyo and cursing…
How to Travel and Tell No One What Happened
I’m on the streets of Paris. It’s July 14th, Bastille Day. It has been 230 years since the unsettled French populace murdered a bunch of bootlickers and displayed their blood-stained heads on metal spikes. Where the Bastille once stood is now a despondent construction site. Replacing the jeers of angry peasantry is the mechanical beeping…
Santa Claus Coffee in Joyful Minowa
The street bustles with a steady stream of visitors. Every now and again, one individual will pause, examining a store’s goods. Amongst this, Papa Noel stands outside too, his thin long-sleeve top protecting him from the chilly wind that moves through the shopping arcade. In one hand, he clutches a thermos; his other holds a…
Nahum in the snow in Hakuba: taken on a weekend trip during an Astray writing workshop in Japan.
Failure to Launch
The legacy of one William Shakespeare specifically outlined the various separate qualities of a tragedy and a comedy: two stories destined never to interlink, telling tales of diverse passions, whether joyful or dour. On the other hand, the legacy of me, you ask? Well, I managed to break down any visible barrier between the two-story…

Astray is a storytelling project centred on travel, place, culture and identity.

We’re run by a team of writers who mostly live, work and play in nipaluna / Hobart. With reverence, we acknowledge the Tasmanian Aboriginal people as the traditional and ongoing custodians of trouwunna / lutruwita / Tasmania: land that was stolen and never ceded. We pay our respects to Elders past, present and emerging.