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Prick Prick Boom
I was 12 or 13 years old when I had my left arm intentionally broken by racist, highly privileged white kids at the school I was going to. And by broken arm, I mean broken. I was in a cast for three months. Though I’d been bullied for years, at the time, I didn’t even…
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…
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,…

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.