The troll bridge


This is likely to be my last travel post as I’m packing up my suitcase and heading home tomorrow. I’m looking forward to real, fresh fruit and vegetables and of course seeing my beloved puppy. Never fear though, as I’ve just finished Floundering by Romy Ash so shall be following this post very shortly (I hope) with a review.

Amid the freestanding cacti and RV salesyards is the Bookman Event Center, home (for the last three days at least) to over 200 derby girls, plus officials and fanatics from around the world. The VRDL All Stars, cream of the Australian crop, have only hours ago skated into 5th place for the tournament, and based on their outstanding performance over the last three days are now ranked 13th in the world (according to Flat Track Stats).

I’ve drifted in and out of the center, watching the VRDL bouts and a few others here and there, but am very much a wanderer among the players and hardcore fans screaming around me.

On the first day I walked to the venue on a terrain made not really for walking. It is only fifteen minutes, if that, from the hotel, but the paths (when there are paths) often lead to a dead end or whittle off into shrubbery and rocks. Although the walk was short, as I approached a bridge that reeked of urine with blankets and broken bottles stuffed on top of the sloping walls, I felt a little like a billygoat approaching a troll.

Trip trap. Trip trap.

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