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A Gay Atheist Goes To Church
I’m an atheist. It’s never normally hard for me to admit that. But last time I settled myself in a city overseas, while looking for community, I found myself in a circle of Christian men that made me their prey. Personally, I’ve always found church a bit hard to swallow. Perhaps it is the remnants…
High Way to Hell
There is a fine line between discomfort and danger in the context of travel. Discomfort is that sexy stretching of one’s personal parameters in pursuit of a broader lens on life. Danger is being reckless, indulgent and getting too stoned on a night train in India. I can’t remember the exact moment my brain ascended…
Sin Palabras: Speechless in the Chilean Desert
Photo by Jens Johnsson Camping in the Atacama Desert with a group of Chilean hippies was always going to present something of a communication challenge. With my bare-bones Spanish, I had needed help just to translate the invitation. It offered a position volunteering at a weekend gathering of ceremony and traditional medicine called Vive Piuke Mapu, 150…
I Hitchhiked Around Albania
I sit in the back seat of an old Mercedes-Benz that smells like cheap tobacco and think about what I should say to the mystery man behind the wheel. Squished next to me and buried under our backpacks are Noam and Ziv, two Israeli girls I met in a hostel in Sarandë. Our driver and…
Here Is Good
I stare out the plane window at the twinkling lights in the darkness below. That’s Japan down there. Hitting the ground feels like victory: a life’s dream of coming here fulfilled in the matter of seconds. With a big smile despite my tired eyes, I step out of the arrival gate and drink in the…
Drunk on Homesickness
Seven months into a student exchange in Europe, and I’d only seen two Australians. One was guy who had little interest in reminiscing about our favourite meat pie flavours. “Mine’s bacon and cheese!” I offered. He said he didn’t care. The other was a girl whom, upon hearing her Sydney accent, I became so overwhelmed…

Astray is 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.