The Closing...

Every four years, history repeats itself. A city that spent seven years preparing for two weeks in the world's spotlight comes down from its Olympic high.

Beijing is like that now. The Birds Nest, the Water Cube and the dozens of other sparkling, new venues are empty. The flame has been put out (and passed on to London) and all of the nations' flags are folded and put away. The vendors' tents have been collapsed, carts hauled away and leftover merchandise boxed up. Around town, the streets seem emptier. The Silk Market salespeople sit idle on stools instead of grabbing at hordes of tourists. The bars at Sanlitun close at 2 instead of 6 a.m. The two huge warehouse-cum-nightclubs (the Heineken House and the Bud Club) where gold-medal winners, journalists, coaches and hangers-on partied nightly have vacated their property for good. All the train stations, highways and airports were packed as tens of thousands of visitors tried to get back home or get to their next destination as quickly as possible.

It's too early to tell if the $43 billion the Chinese government spent to host the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games paid off. Certainly, they're going to take a monetary loss (not surprising, considering they spent more than the five previous Games combined), but that's not necessarily what marks a host city's success. Time will tell if these past 16 days will remembered as a huge triumph (Sydney) or a monumental failure (Montreal).

Watching the torch go out from the bar at the St. Regis - yes, I roll like that - made me a little sad to see the Olympics end. I've had a fabulous experience here at the Games. I've gotten to sit ringside and watch the best amateur boxers pound the crap out of each other. I saw ping-pong in the country that calls it its national sport. I watched gold-medal judo matches, beach volleyball and USA basketball live. My commute to work involved walking through the Olympic Green twice daily, hearing the hum of the the masses and seeing the smiles all around. And I got to work in the Birds Nest, standing at the finish line and interviewing athletes. The top experience for me had to be watching all three of Usain Bolt's world records (the men's 100m, 200m and 4x100m relay) live, in person, and then talking to the guy after. Yes, I'm bragging, but how cool is that? I still can't get over it.

Neither can China. I think the country is in post-Olympic denial right now. They've been re-airing the highlights from all 51 of their gold medal winners and also just showed the entire Opening Ceremony, including the March of nations, unedited, this morning. The Chinese waited too long to host for it to be over in 16 days. We'll have to wait and see what happens when they come down off the collective high; will there be a national depression or a recession? The stock markets look like it - Shanghai's is the worst-peformer world wide and the recent inflation is starting to cause problems locally.

There is one success I'm proud to report, however small: I now love the Olympics. This is coming from a guy that hadn't watched any Opening Ceremony in 12 years and didn't watch a single minute of either Athens' or Torino's respective Games. But having been here and watched athletes go all-out for the mere love of the game, to break down crying as their nation's banner soared to the heavens and to chant "Jai Yo" (Let's go!) with thousands of happy Chinese has given me a new appreciation for what the Olympics mean. For two weeks, nations set aside their differences, pushed away language barriers and joined, universally, in sport. It wasn't just to see who could come away with the most medals, it was a chance to work together for something - to do something higher, faster or stronger than ever before. It was beautiful.

My favorite quote of the Games came from a Canadian 800m runner who finished fourth in the final round, just missing out on the podium.

"I'm not upset," he gasped in the mixed zone, 20 yards from the finish line. "I gave everything I had. Everything. It's all on the track."

That's what the Games are all about and I got to see that, firsthand, on a daily basis. You can't ask for more than that.

See you in Vancouver.

On the First Olympic Week of My Life...

We're not going to win the medal count.
It's a fact, USA - our domination of the Summer Games has come to a close. China already has twice the number of golds we do and are halfway to its goal of 119 medals. We're gonna lose. And it sucks.

But at least we have someone to cheer against.
If you look on the bright side, now we have competition and someone that I can boo internally while watching from the sidelines (I won't externally because, well, I like living too much).

Athletes are machines.
Television does not do these super-human competitors justice. They have ceased to be everyday people, have become machines honed for one thing and do that one thing faster, higher, harder and better than everyone else.

The first time I stepped on the practice track in Chaoyang, I was floored. There isn't an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen. I thought spandex would tear from the strain of containing the bulging muscles. The sheer fluidity of how they move around the track is like poetry in motion. Incidentally, I was watching the Nigerian, Cuban, Honduran and Malawian teams, too - and they're probably not going to win three track & field medals combined. So you can imagine what it's like standing next to the American athletes.

Long-distance runners are skeletons.
I've run one marathon and two halfs in the past 18 months or so, so I've seen some skinny competitors (Mostly at the start, before they start jogging twice as fast as I can sprint). But I have never seen three dozen, 5-foot 3-inch, walking, talking skeletons until I covered the women's marathon. Those girls had waists the size of my thigh and the tallest of them maybe equaled my height.

On the 100m sprint:
It will take me longer than 9.69 seconds to write this paragraph. And I didn't even slow up to celebrate at the end.

I heart my press pass.
Not only do I get free entrance to most of the attractions around town, as well as complimentary use of the city's subway and bus system, but it gets me other places, too. Like if I want to get into the press area while a spectator at an event, carrying a beer and dressed in a t-shirt. Or if I decide to skip lines and use the VIP entrance at the Olympic Green's sponors' exhibit halls. Perhaps if I wanted free beer at Club Bud or a gift every time I visited the Yashow Clothing Market, I could just whip it out. It gets me access beyond security points that require special passes, all because the Chinese are afraid of offending western press. People stare at it at the subway and kids tug on it. Oh, I'm keeping that thing.

If you're going to be a language translator, you'd better know how to speak the language.
So, the Chinese powers that be, in all their infinite wisdom, decided not to bring in official translators to work for the media at the event centers. Instead, they took on local student volunteers to do the work, most of whom have around two years of education in a language. They're all quite good speakers - for people that have studied for two years, that is.

Example: We're at a test press conference, where fake athletes will be answering questions from English-speaking journalists in Spanish and Korean. Our intrepid language staff will then translate the answers. The Spanish "athlete" delivers a three-minute answer to a question. We all wait, with baited breath, for the translation to come through our earpieces after he's finished speaking. There are 30 seconds of silence, some shuffling of papers and then a slight cough.

"Don't know."

Then more silence. We turn around and look into the translator's booth. There, looking completely befuddled, is a smiling Chinese student. Let's just say that language services here hasn't gotten better since.

When you're dressed the same as everyone else, you do what you can to stand out.
Even if that includes wearing a 1990s, Limp Bizkit-style bucket hat, with the brim flipped up and dark sunglasses. Yup, that was me yesterday. It'll be me tomorrow. And it'll be me through the rest of the competition... Oh yes, pictures will follow.

After a week of watching preliminary rounds, I want to box.
And if that fails, I can always race walk.

Settling down in China...

So, I feel like I've been really down on Beijing in my first two city-related posts. A lot of that had to do with just sort of getting a wave of culture-shock upon arrival... so I wanted to write and say that I'm doing fine now.

The one thing you can say about the Beijing Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games (BOCOG - the overseeing group for all-things Beijing Olympics) is that it has been nothing but welcoming from Day 1. The longer I stay here, the more I realize the extent of what it's done to make us feel at home.

For example, we have air conditioning in our residences and private bathrooms. That's nearly unheard of... even on the campus we're staying, most of the students have to walk to camping-style, communal bathrooms.

They decorated the hallways of our building with pastoral pictures of forests, mountains and log cabins. Just like the good, ol' USofA (or so they were thinking). It's endearing.

We were given a 3-day, all-expenses paid tour to Beijing's top sights - the Great Wall, the Ming Tombs, the Summer Palace. And we were also shown a couple areas the local government is especially proud of: a state-of-the-art waste water treatment plant and a planned village, which is where the "future of China" lies. While the latter two aren't necessarily what I'd take visitors to New Hampshire to, the fact that the people were so proud to show off their achievements to a horde of Western volunteers was definitely touching.

All the while, we've been inundated with food... over 100 specially prepared Peking ducks one night for the 350+ volunteers, watermelon (a delicacy here) for dessert each night, dish after dish after dish stacked onto lazy susans... the spread has been immense and I'm hoping my waistband won't be the same in the end. I've come to find out that the number one way to show visitors welcome in Asia is the feed them into a coma.

But the most welcome has been shown by the people of Beijing. The entire city is behind the Olympics. It's not just the people we've been introduced to by BOCOG, either. Rather, everywhere you look, people are wearing Games swag, taking pictures of the beautiful stadiums and smiling happily when you tell them you're here to work for the ONS.

There are a handful of Chinese volunteers that have been assigned the task of being ambassadors to our group, as well. One, in particular, has gone above and beyond to make sure the loud, crazy, non-Mandarin speaking Americans feel welcomed in Beijing.

Cindy rocks. She's a grad student at the Communications University of China (the CUC), where we're staying. While she's been learning English for only two years, she's already fluent. On every bus ride, Cindy has been sitting up front, ready to answer questions or chat about life in China in a friendly, outgoing manner. She's already organized impromtu Ping-Pong-Cho sessions, invited a half-dozen of her friends and schooled each one of us at the ping-pong tables.

I just try to think that if a group of 35 foreigners came to my school for two months, would I have done the same? Honestly, it's not likely...

So while Beijing may not have the natural beauty of some other world-class cities, its citizens have already demonstrated (on the individual level) that some of the country's most beautiful people live there.

Thanks BOCOG and thanks Beijing.

Cindy (left) and fellow-volunteer, Li

Touching down in Beijing...

Well, I've been in Beijing for under 12 hours (and spent seven of those asleep) and there's already some culture shock going around in my head.

I think it first happened when I hit the seat of my taxi. Now, in Japan, I took quite a few taxis. With three or four of us traveling at a time, it was often cheaper and/or more convenient to hail a cab versus taking the subway. There, the cars glide up alongside the curb and the drivers pop open a side door for you (they open and close automatically). The seats are covered with soft, white, lace-like cloth that's invariably spotless and might even have been ironed that morning. Most cabbies there will wear a military style uniform or, at the very least, wear a jacket and tie. It's almost like taking a car service back in the States. Quite nice; I definitely got used to a superior level of service.

Let's just say that my first experience with a taxi in Beijing was the complete, utter opposite. If I had to describe it in one sentence, I'd say I was back in NYC all over again.

The cab itself was dinged up and old. There was a whitish cloth on the seats, but it was torn and spotted in places and I doubted it had ever been washed - nevermind ironed. My driver had no uniform, didn't help with the bags and I had to (gasp) open my own door. I tried to communicate the directions and handed him my address (written in Mandarin). In response, he just grunted and we sped off - hopefully in the right direction.

Almost as soon as we were in motion, the driver clicked on his radio and began barking Chinese into it. The only time he stopped doing that during the entire ride was when he switched to barking Chinese into his cell phone. Also, for our entire trip, he chain smoked. From my vantage point in the backseat, I could barely make out his silloutte in the smokey haze... I guess they were right about Beijing's pollution.

We sped through the streets, cutting people off - him yelling and me digging through the cushions for non-existent seatbelts. Finally, after him stopping to ask directions a couple times, we arrived at the right building - me shaken slightly, but in one piece overall. There, he uncermoniously handed me my backpack (upside down) and sped off, puffs of cigarette smoke coming from his windows.

I stood there on the sidewalk with my bags and watched him go.

I had arrived in Beijing.

Going to China with a banjo on my knee...

Okay, so with less than four months to go before the Olympic flame is lit in Beijing (assuming protesters aren't able to steal/extinguish/smother/light bowls from it) it's time to start talking China.

Notice I say China and not Chinese. My Mandarin is woeful at this point, but I have learned how to ask for food, the toilet and tell a taxi driver he's an idiot, so I've got that going for me.

The big news is... well, I'm going.

I know I posted about this before, but there actually was no final confirmation from BOCOG until a couple weeks ago. However, we've received the go-ahead and their processing our visas now.

(Excuse me while I do a huge fist-pump and rip off my shirt, FIFA-style.)

This blog's going to China! Fo' realsies.

Along with receiving my "yes-you're-coming-and-we-realize-we've-told-you-that-before" final invitation, I also now know where I'm going to be stationed...

*drum roll*

The National Stadium - more commonly known as The Birds' Nest (See above: It looks like a nest).

In addition hosting all of the track & field events, the Nest also will be the home of the Opening and Closing ceremonies. I've received some communication that seems to indicate that possibly I could be invited to potentially watch one or both of those events (ie: believe it when it happens). While, I'm not getting excited about being able to streak across the field wearing naught but an American flag when the U.S. team marches in, it could happen. And that rocks.

My role as a member of the Olympic News Service will be at the bottom rung of the ladder - Flash Quotes Reporter. It'll be my job to interview the athletes after their events, grab a few sound bites, write them down and send them to the central office. Not a glamorous job by any means, but I really could care less about that. I'll get to be practically on the sidelines at the Games, that's what counts.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Now that I know it's happening for real, I don't know what to think really. Guess it's time for another fist pump...

*FIST PUMP*

All aboard the panda express...

I've hesitated to talk about this, in case I would jinx anything or would be accused of counting my chickens before they hatched (I'd much rather be considered a "counter of cells before they've split"), but it looks like thing are in place to take your favorite blog to Beijing.

Yes, I am slated to go to the 2008 Olympic Summer Games in Beijing, China as part of the Olympic News Service. All together now...

"Bahm dahm da-dum dum dum dum.
Bum ba-da dum ba-da dum da-dum dum dum dummmm"

If you don't think I wasted 10 minutes making sure I had the right number of "dums" in that , then you don't know Mike.

It took a while for all this to come together, for a number of reasons that I won't bore you with here. In the end, though, my college was one of five schools selected to send grad students/upperclassmen to the Olympics to help with the news coverage. And that's the extent of what I know about the program. Everything else has been given to us in the vaguest of terms, because, basically, the ONS has never done this before. So, here's what I know...

- I'll be in China
- probably for two months
- they think I have a place to stay (at the Communications University of China) and maybe someone will even feed me
- we'll be covering the Games, but there is no information on what venues/sports or even in what capacity we'll be working in

And that's about it. But, screw it, who cares? My next travel adventure has begun and I'm pretty pumped about it.

I know next to nothing about China. For example, if you had asked me yesterday which city housed Tiananmen Square, I couldn't have told you. The only words I know in Mandarin are "been-fau-tong," which means "marshmallow" and "meso-hoh-nee," which directly translated is "I have sex you long time for money." So, yeah, that's wicked helpful. The only info I have on China in my apartment is my bread machine and coffee maker (both have "Made in.." status). Discounting my weekly visit to my main guilty pleasure, Panda Express, I have almost no interaction with anything China-related. Oh, except for those wonderfully vague fortune cookies I always add "in bed" to (since I'm still mentally in junior high).

Turns out, I'm your typical, politically incorrect, American traveler after all.

I'm going into this thing completely blind. BUT I think this does provide a great blogging opportunity... when I learn something, I'll share it with you. So, as I learn Mandarin, you'll learn Mandarin. As I find out the rules of ping-pong, you'll find out the rules of ping-pong. And, if I find out they do have Panda Express in China, I'll post a picture of me eating some of that delectable orange chicken.

Yum, yum.


------
HOLY CRAP

After I wrote this, I looked up the nutrition information for the Panda. Orange chicken has 500 calories and 27 whopping grams of fat per serving. Both are 200% more than the next-worst menu item (discounting the pork dishes, which are so disgusting that even the homeless turn them down).

No wonder that stuff tastes so good. Just call me Mikey McFatFat.