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I’m Good at Saying Goodbye
After stacking motorbikes and removing helmets, we shuffled into a dimly lit room and sat on worn couches. We didn't mind the red wine stains or the ripped carpet. We smiled at the woman behind the bar, shook her hand, and tried to remember the Indonesian word for evening greetings. Shisha XL was our…
I Ate Ice Cream at Bali’s Biggest Rubbish Dump
I notice the wildlife before the people. Between the hoards of holy cows and scavengers of the sky, there’s fierce competition for edible waste. I’m ankle deep in rubbish before I notice nimble fingers combing through the dump. This is Suwung, the largest official landfill site in Bali—a 44-hectare cleared plot of land. Once a…
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.…
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…
One of the Girls
It’s quiet outside, a little too quiet. There are meant to be 17 other people here but I haven’t seen any signs of life. Tired, culture-shocked, and utterly starving, I get my first ever meal in Canggu delivered to my villa’s door: a veggie burger with chips, an order akin to that of a seven-year-old…
Cold Water and Sliding Doors
I’m halfway through my month-long escape in Bali and my weeks have begun forming a pattern. Monday morning, wake up early, yoga, green tea. Tuesday morning, wake up early, journal, green tea. By the time Wednesday rolls around, I’m dead out of wholesomeness and ready to party. This week is no different, as I prepare…
The Problem with Assimilation
“The problem with Muslims is that they don’t assimilate,” announced the Australian owner of a Balinese sports bar. The red-nosed sexagenarian was drunk on his own stock and the admiration of his fellows, swinging off a barstool in the joint he’d made his own. “They don’t assimilate and they don’t respect our way of…
An Ode To My Scooter
Lingering incense from daily offerings wafted over the villa; the smell of Balinese air and fresh street food filled my nostrils. A breath felt how I would imagine dirt-flavoured candy floss to taste – instantly melting, topped with a spritz of motor oil and a dash of bug spray. A muffled chorus of squealing pigs…

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.