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Story
A Universal Language
Stickiness glues every inch of my clothes to me. Blaring sun blinds me from all directions. Wine fumes leave no room for fresh air on this street. A bead of sweat slides down my face to land on my upper lip. It tastes slightly of stale wine. I turn a corner and can finally see…
November 5, 2019
Japan Story
Too Big in Japan
I can feel my face turning a warm, visibly peachy colour as those uncomfortable, familiar prickles run up my neck, around my ears, even to the end of my nose. The little old lady is huddled over something on the bench with her back to me. I've been standing here for over a minute and…
November 1, 2019
Story USA
A Tornado in Wisconsin
The universe is constantly giving you signs, and if you pay attention, you just might see them. Sometimes, you might see them even if you’re not paying attention. On the second day of my American motorcycle criss-crossing, I saw the latter kind. I was cruising along thinking about why I’d staked so much – my…
May 24, 2019
Story
Polgahawela Junction
“Excuse me! Sir! What station is this?” the traveller yelled from the half-open carriage window. “Jaffna!” the stationmaster yelled back in a thick accent. “If you want to get off, must go now.” “When will the train get to Thandikulam?” “Thandikulam? Thandikulam has passed madam!” “Then where does this train line end?” “Kankesanturai.” The man’s…
April 8, 2019
Story
Why I Only Lasted Five Days in Sri Lanka
“You are a woman. And you are from...” the first man said. “Norway,” I said to correct what I assumed to be his assumption of my origin. I had done this before, because most people do not grasp how an Indonesian-Norwegian traveller can be travelling. This was not this day and trip’s problem though. “Yes,…
March 28, 2019

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.