Olympic Blog 4
On Tuesday of this week, our last full day at the games, we had no event tickets in hand and no particular sights to see: only a volunteer shift at the University of Saskatchewan reception in the giant white globe at the Saskatchewan pavilion. And almost as if the city predicted our imminent departure, the clouds rolled into Vancouver to cast a blanket of grey over the Olympics.
Truthfully, the Vancouver mood had sobered slightly after the record crowds out and about during the weekend. By the time we headed downtown, the crowds had thinned significantly. For lack of any particular plan, we lined-up at the art gallery downtown that had been expropriated by the Province of BC for its own pavilion. We entered after a very short wait in line. After a quick look around, went to the most lovely museum café that featured gourmet sandwiches, salads, quiche, drinks and deserts for the lowest prices we had encountered during our entire trip, complimented by the most serene physical atmosphere and calming smooth jazz. It was perfectly wonderful. If it wasn’t for the flashes of colourful team-inspired clothing sported by other patrons, it could have been a charming afternoon lunch at the Vancouver gallery on any given February afternoon: the Olympics had finally left us for just a few moments.
We proceeded to work our shift at the University of Saskatchewan reception, which was a warm and intimate affair within the Saskatchewan globe. During the course of the reception, the Canadian men managed to win their game against Germany, and Ashley McIver proceeded to win gold in women’s ski cross. Spirits were a little higher once more, but well below the manic character of the weekend’s public: the Olympic spirit in Vancouver had become a calm, measured optimism. We left the Saskatchewan reception, with our host, my brother, and wandered into the main pavilion, which, by all accounts, is an authentic Saskatchewan experience, much akin to attending a cabaret at the town hall in (insert town name here) Saskatchewan. It was warm with people, loud with voices, sported lots of green and smelled of stale Pilsner: it was very homey.
After meeting with Saskatchewan friends and watching small children dance to exhaustion, we headed out, into the False Creek area, arguably the centre of Olympic activities in the city, to see what more we could squeeze out of a Tuesday evening, our last night at the games.
Of course, the evening wouldn’t be complete without a last ode to the Olympic influence, so as we made our way to the Sky Train Station, we stopped at McDonald’s 24-hour Olympic-themed store for a round of Olympic nuggets, which we feasted-upon while watching the day’s highlights. As our Olympic experience faded into the night, the almost-bread purchased earlier that day was the furthest thing from our hearts and minds, as was the sour attitude of the bearded clerk who sold it to me.
The next morning, we headed back to Saskatchewan via the Canada line train, a flight to Calgary and another to Saskatoon. The further we went, the more the concerns of every-day life crept into our consciousness. The car was cold, the front floor was dirty, the mail was piled-up and we needed groceries. Didn’t the world know the Olympics was on? During our short escape to Vancouver, we fashioned our existence around the games — they were everywhere. Every newspaper story, every SkyTrain advertisement, every passer-by and every web-streamed moment reminded you of the Olympics in your midst. Even the Olympic nay-sayers were nay-saying about the Olympics: it was surreal.
While returning to “real life” presents a bit of a mental challenge, the television and the web continue to provide a consistent portal to all things Olympic: we can wean ourselves from the experience gradually. In retrospect, its shocking how much emotion we invest in a relatively anonymous collection of athletes, most of whom grace our living rooms only once every four years. Yet, the majority of us, without reservation, will hitch our emotional sleighs to anyone bearing our country’s colours. Why? I suppose that philosophers, sociologists and psychologists will all have answers, but frankly, I don’t care. It felt good to be there (except for my tired, tire feet). It feels good to watch from here. And it feels good to share that irrational, bi-annual emotional investment with friends, Canadians and all humans. Aside from a modest handful of detractors, the world cares about sport and country, and that’s just fine. Shouldn’t the world have at least one thing we can all feel good about?
Friday, February 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Devin's Diary: Day Five
This morning, we let the highs and lows of the Olympic weekend drift away as we explored the parks and stores around Commercial Drive just east of downtown. It was a stunningly warm and sunny day and there appeared to be as many locals on the streets as there were Olympic visitors. The atmosphere presented a surprising blend of life-as-usual for the locals combined with casual acceptance of the continuing spectacle all around them. While not everyone here intended to celebrate the Olympics, there remains a positive energy throughout the local pubs and coffee shops. If we aren’t setting Olympic sporting records, there has developed a common sense throughout the City that we are setting the standard for Olympic celebration.
We finished today with a quick drink at the Saskatchewan pavilion followed by an evening of watching ice-dance on a heated patio in Yaletown with a handful of other fans. While the atmosphere in Yaletown was not crazy-wild like Friday and Saturday evening, it was still vibrant and there remained a notable contingent of dedicated Olympic celebrants throughout the regions bars, restaurants and streets. It was a truly sanguine and satisfying way to watch a graceful young Canadian couple clutch the first gold medal in a European-dominated sport. While the others sitting on the patio were strangers to us, we were all united by the desire to see our young couple skate their best. As we sat, drank, ate, cheered and high-fived our patio neighbours tonight, it became clear that Canada’s medal count is not the only, and is perhaps the least appropariate measure of success for these games.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
We finished today with a quick drink at the Saskatchewan pavilion followed by an evening of watching ice-dance on a heated patio in Yaletown with a handful of other fans. While the atmosphere in Yaletown was not crazy-wild like Friday and Saturday evening, it was still vibrant and there remained a notable contingent of dedicated Olympic celebrants throughout the regions bars, restaurants and streets. It was a truly sanguine and satisfying way to watch a graceful young Canadian couple clutch the first gold medal in a European-dominated sport. While the others sitting on the patio were strangers to us, we were all united by the desire to see our young couple skate their best. As we sat, drank, ate, cheered and high-fived our patio neighbours tonight, it became clear that Canada’s medal count is not the only, and is perhaps the least appropariate measure of success for these games.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
Devin's Diary: Day Four
Our fourth and fifth days in Vancouver presented a much more relaxed Olympic experience. While Sunday was billed by the Canadian media as “super-Sunday” for the medal potential the day presented coupled with the dynamite trio of men’s hockey match-ups, the evening ended in disappointment and this morning felt like a collective Olympic hangover in Vancouver, when, perhaps, our ambitions might have exceeded our reach.
On Sunday evening, we took the new Bombardier-sponsored light rail car to Granville Island where a more subdued group of Olympic tourists and local families took Sunday strolls around the brick-lined streets in the Sunday afternoon sun. The Bombardier line ran for, perhaps, a grand total of one kilometre from the Canada Line to the Island. The wait to catch the train, coupled with the time it took to load, unload and travel oh-so-slowly along the temporary track likely exceeded the time it took to cover the same distance by foot. Yet, we, like tens of thousands of others donning Canadian colours, just followed the crowd… and the crowd was clearly waiting for the train. If nothing else, these games have proved the compelling strength of Canadian’s complacent acceptance of being regulated, directed and generally controlled. Gates, fences, barricades, pylons, police tape and traffic directors (all of which line the streets of the city) eventually strip you of the need to think or navigate – you just follow the crowd, line-up and wait for something to happen. We should really consider displaying a little more dissention, especially when being frisked at the entrance to the curling rink… our complacency is at an all-time high, simply because they make it so easy to be complacent here.
We went from Granville back out to the Olympic Centre (curling) to watch the undefeated Canadian women take-on the Chinese. While the venue waited for the curling to commence, the men’s Canada-U.S.A game was played on the big screens in the venue. It’s as if the unfortunate result of the hockey game, which concluded just minutes before the start of the curling game, spilled onto sheet B in the Olympic Centre, jinxing the previously undefeated Canadian women.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
On Sunday evening, we took the new Bombardier-sponsored light rail car to Granville Island where a more subdued group of Olympic tourists and local families took Sunday strolls around the brick-lined streets in the Sunday afternoon sun. The Bombardier line ran for, perhaps, a grand total of one kilometre from the Canada Line to the Island. The wait to catch the train, coupled with the time it took to load, unload and travel oh-so-slowly along the temporary track likely exceeded the time it took to cover the same distance by foot. Yet, we, like tens of thousands of others donning Canadian colours, just followed the crowd… and the crowd was clearly waiting for the train. If nothing else, these games have proved the compelling strength of Canadian’s complacent acceptance of being regulated, directed and generally controlled. Gates, fences, barricades, pylons, police tape and traffic directors (all of which line the streets of the city) eventually strip you of the need to think or navigate – you just follow the crowd, line-up and wait for something to happen. We should really consider displaying a little more dissention, especially when being frisked at the entrance to the curling rink… our complacency is at an all-time high, simply because they make it so easy to be complacent here.
We went from Granville back out to the Olympic Centre (curling) to watch the undefeated Canadian women take-on the Chinese. While the venue waited for the curling to commence, the men’s Canada-U.S.A game was played on the big screens in the venue. It’s as if the unfortunate result of the hockey game, which concluded just minutes before the start of the curling game, spilled onto sheet B in the Olympic Centre, jinxing the previously undefeated Canadian women.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Devin's Diary: Day Three
The peculiarities of the Olympics shone through today in grand fashion. Early this morning, we began our journey via a bus along East Hastings to Granville station where we caught the Canada Line to the King George stop and walked a serene 1.1 km through a lovely Vancouver residential neighbourhood to the curling venue, Vancouver Olympic Centre. The monolithic security barrier at the gates of the Olympic Centre highlights the odd juxtaposition of international airport-calibre security against the serene suburban backdrop so typically familiar to Canadians. A string of pre-recorded celebrity voices (including Matt Dillon AND Newfoundland Premier Danny Williams) played over the loudspeakers while we waited to be scanned and frisked by the blued coated volunteers.
Again, the fans inside the venue were friendly, respectful and sprightly – permitting each other alternate opportunities to cheer and chant for their respective countries without interruption, while the unaligned Canadian fans continued to assist every lonely fan to cheer for his country. Something should be said for both the lack of advertising within Olympic venues and the seamless product placement within them. Normally, within a sports venue, the boards, walls and ceilings are draped in corporate logos: at the Olympics, the venues are tastefully decorated with solely the VANOC colours and images of the games. However, when its time to buy refreshments, Moslon, Coke and Visa are seamlessly and suddenly integrated to encompass your every stare, purchase and action. It’s a strangely comfortable way to be subjected to advertising which carries the games… perhaps a little too comfortable. Is it coincidence I’ve recently been craving a Coke Classic?
And when Morgan Freeman tells you that Visa is the only card accepted at the Olympic games, he’s not kidding: you can even leave your debit card at home – Freeman said VISA!
While we went to a Victory Ceremony at BC Place this evening and watched a live feed of John Montgomery receiving his gold medal in Whistler, the real Olympic magic happened for us afterward. As we walked along the shore of False Creek from BC Place toward the Skytrain, the lights and sounds of the provincial pavilions echoed off the water, while the lights danced on the ripples. The Saskatchewan globe, carrying projections of prairie images was a distinctive marker in the night sky. And all along the False Creek shore, what began as the spontaneous activity of a few people, has resulted in thousands of fan-built inukshuks lining the water. It is astounding. Every rock is part of a human-built structure: small, large and extra-large with feathers: it was stunning. A true spontaneous unique eruption of Olympic spirit that could never be planned, organized or replicated, that involved everyone who wanted to build or watch… no Visa required.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
Again, the fans inside the venue were friendly, respectful and sprightly – permitting each other alternate opportunities to cheer and chant for their respective countries without interruption, while the unaligned Canadian fans continued to assist every lonely fan to cheer for his country. Something should be said for both the lack of advertising within Olympic venues and the seamless product placement within them. Normally, within a sports venue, the boards, walls and ceilings are draped in corporate logos: at the Olympics, the venues are tastefully decorated with solely the VANOC colours and images of the games. However, when its time to buy refreshments, Moslon, Coke and Visa are seamlessly and suddenly integrated to encompass your every stare, purchase and action. It’s a strangely comfortable way to be subjected to advertising which carries the games… perhaps a little too comfortable. Is it coincidence I’ve recently been craving a Coke Classic?
And when Morgan Freeman tells you that Visa is the only card accepted at the Olympic games, he’s not kidding: you can even leave your debit card at home – Freeman said VISA!
While we went to a Victory Ceremony at BC Place this evening and watched a live feed of John Montgomery receiving his gold medal in Whistler, the real Olympic magic happened for us afterward. As we walked along the shore of False Creek from BC Place toward the Skytrain, the lights and sounds of the provincial pavilions echoed off the water, while the lights danced on the ripples. The Saskatchewan globe, carrying projections of prairie images was a distinctive marker in the night sky. And all along the False Creek shore, what began as the spontaneous activity of a few people, has resulted in thousands of fan-built inukshuks lining the water. It is astounding. Every rock is part of a human-built structure: small, large and extra-large with feathers: it was stunning. A true spontaneous unique eruption of Olympic spirit that could never be planned, organized or replicated, that involved everyone who wanted to build or watch… no Visa required.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
Devin's Diary: Day Two
Sometimes, a quick morning run down by Commercial Drive takes a little longer than you might expect. Today, we received a friendly reminder that while most people have come to Vancouver in the spirit of the games, there remains a group of people willing to prey upon inattentive tourists like us. Sometime within a 20 minute time frame a shifty character managed to lift Maeghan’s iPhone, and eventually made contact with me on my phone requesting a ransom. When we assumed the Vancouver City Police would be relatively helpless to assist, we were overwhelmed by the rapid response of two plain-clothes officers in the area who took my place in the arranged meeting with the extortionist, which eventually lead to an arrest of a guy who fled from the scene leaving Maeghan’s iPhone and a can of pepper spray in his wake. Frankly, we were more shocked by the rapid, efficient and ultimately successful efforts of the Vancouver City Police than we were by the boldness of the extortionist: Vancouver Police deserve gold in our minds!
As a result of the extortion fiasco, we missed an early afternoon curling match we were slated to attend, but it turns out Kevin Martins managed to end that game early with a monster score. Instead, we headed downtown to the heart of the Olympic action around False Creek into Yaletown, Robson Streets and Granville Street. The Saskatchewan pavilion was, once again, lined-up for a distance. The Metro (free paper) this morning reported that the Saskatchewan pavilion was one of the hot spots in town, which was confirmed by one of the fine Vancouver City Police constables we dealt with who advised he had heard the Saskatchewan pavilion was the place to be.
The roaming crowds from Yaletown to Granville and Robson were intense and high spirited. On this un-seasonally warm Friday night, it seemed like every residential tower within eyeshot must have emptied its human occupants onto the streets of Vancouver to flood the town with positive human energy. Perhaps, the most peculiar experience of the day (aside from the cell phone extortion), was our sojourn into The Olympic Superstore, the secure store-within-a-store carved out of the main floor of the Hudson Bay Company on Granville and Georgia. The Superstore had the sidewalk and half the adjacent street down one entire block fenced-off to house two lines managed by a team of security guards who metered people into the temple of official merchandise like Hollywood royalty into the latest club. It was, perhaps, more intense inside the store than it was outside on Granville with the drunken hooligans. Racks of official Canada hoodies hardly cleared the storage room doors before people ravaged the rolling racks like starving scavengers, causing the tireless Bay employees to beg for order with limited success.
It was an odd day, but a memorable one. Tomorrow, we’ll try something different by starting our day with a 9:00am curling match: surely the extortionists and the hooligans are still in bed at 9:00am. And good stuff John Montgomery – a prairie boy wins gold!
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
As a result of the extortion fiasco, we missed an early afternoon curling match we were slated to attend, but it turns out Kevin Martins managed to end that game early with a monster score. Instead, we headed downtown to the heart of the Olympic action around False Creek into Yaletown, Robson Streets and Granville Street. The Saskatchewan pavilion was, once again, lined-up for a distance. The Metro (free paper) this morning reported that the Saskatchewan pavilion was one of the hot spots in town, which was confirmed by one of the fine Vancouver City Police constables we dealt with who advised he had heard the Saskatchewan pavilion was the place to be.
The roaming crowds from Yaletown to Granville and Robson were intense and high spirited. On this un-seasonally warm Friday night, it seemed like every residential tower within eyeshot must have emptied its human occupants onto the streets of Vancouver to flood the town with positive human energy. Perhaps, the most peculiar experience of the day (aside from the cell phone extortion), was our sojourn into The Olympic Superstore, the secure store-within-a-store carved out of the main floor of the Hudson Bay Company on Granville and Georgia. The Superstore had the sidewalk and half the adjacent street down one entire block fenced-off to house two lines managed by a team of security guards who metered people into the temple of official merchandise like Hollywood royalty into the latest club. It was, perhaps, more intense inside the store than it was outside on Granville with the drunken hooligans. Racks of official Canada hoodies hardly cleared the storage room doors before people ravaged the rolling racks like starving scavengers, causing the tireless Bay employees to beg for order with limited success.
It was an odd day, but a memorable one. Tomorrow, we’ll try something different by starting our day with a 9:00am curling match: surely the extortionists and the hooligans are still in bed at 9:00am. And good stuff John Montgomery – a prairie boy wins gold!
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
Devin's Diary: Day One
As we stuffed the final items of red and white clothing into our bags on the evening prior to our 6:00 am flight from Saskatoon to Vancouver, the Olympia Ice Resurfacer (the poor Canadian-made cousin to the prestigious California-built Zamboni) at the Richmond Olympic Oval had broken for the second time in two days and the media was already reporting that a Zamboni was on its way from the Calgary Oval to finish the job. In light of the warm weather, snow and security setbacks, it was one more public-relations setback Vancouver didn’t need. If we believed the majority of the media reports respecting the dysfunction or the facilities and the cranky demeanor of the locals who, by most accounts, carried a distaste for the game, we might never have stepped onto our flight. But following our first full day in Vancouver, we can only say there is more positive energy coursing through these coastal streets than we ever expected.
From the moment we stepped off the plane, an unceasing chain of VANOC volunteers were on hand to direct us seamlessly to the new Canada Line which whisked us downtown with shocking efficiency. The train wasn’t terribly crowded, the weather was sunny and, frankly, the locals couldn’t be much friendlier. If you showed a mere hint of uncertainty or hesitated even slightly on your path, there was always a friendly local stranger to offer advice. Everyone is willing to take a picture of you with your camera, normally offering before you actually ask, while one gentlemen simple asked if he could take our photo with his camera… a little odd, perhaps, but surely harmless.
The day’s pleasant surprises included a chance encounter with the filming of The Colbert Report, spontaneous eruptions of Oh Canada, and the most congenial crowd imaginable for a Norway-USA men’s hockey game. While there are crowds to navigate, people are surprisingly congenial and compliant with whatever logistical hurdles have been erected by VANOC. The most curious site was the line of people in front of the Saskatchewan pavilion at 10:45 am, 15 minutes prior to opening: what could possibly be so intriguing beyond it’s walls? This was especially curious considering the SK pavilion is flanked by the Quebec pavilion and the Moslon-sponsored Hockey House. While we didn’t make it to the pavilion today, it’s at the top of our agenda following a rousing curling preliminary round tomorrow afternoon… and when, or if, we manage to finally spot a cranky local, I’ll be sure to let you know.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
From the moment we stepped off the plane, an unceasing chain of VANOC volunteers were on hand to direct us seamlessly to the new Canada Line which whisked us downtown with shocking efficiency. The train wasn’t terribly crowded, the weather was sunny and, frankly, the locals couldn’t be much friendlier. If you showed a mere hint of uncertainty or hesitated even slightly on your path, there was always a friendly local stranger to offer advice. Everyone is willing to take a picture of you with your camera, normally offering before you actually ask, while one gentlemen simple asked if he could take our photo with his camera… a little odd, perhaps, but surely harmless.
The day’s pleasant surprises included a chance encounter with the filming of The Colbert Report, spontaneous eruptions of Oh Canada, and the most congenial crowd imaginable for a Norway-USA men’s hockey game. While there are crowds to navigate, people are surprisingly congenial and compliant with whatever logistical hurdles have been erected by VANOC. The most curious site was the line of people in front of the Saskatchewan pavilion at 10:45 am, 15 minutes prior to opening: what could possibly be so intriguing beyond it’s walls? This was especially curious considering the SK pavilion is flanked by the Quebec pavilion and the Moslon-sponsored Hockey House. While we didn’t make it to the pavilion today, it’s at the top of our agenda following a rousing curling preliminary round tomorrow afternoon… and when, or if, we manage to finally spot a cranky local, I’ll be sure to let you know.
Guest post from U of S Alumnus Devin Dubois
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Running the Torch
When Sarah Head ran with the Olympic torch, she did more than complete her 300 m portion of the 2010 trek across Canada – she participated in a tradition she had watched her dad take part in 22 years ago near her hometown of Calgary.
“The ‘88 Olympics were so exciting because I lived there, but mostly I remember my dad running the torch and how special that was to him,” Head said. “He ran up and behind him was an RV with a loudspeaker, saying facts about my dad. At seven, I thought he was famous!”
View photo of Flickr
Now a circulation assistant in the Murray Library at the U of S, Head had her chance to experience the thrill carrying the torch in North Battleford on January 12.
“It was amazing. Running in North Battleford was great because it’s a small town, so everyone was out to watch. It was surreal. People I didn’t even know wanted to take pictures with me. I felt like a celebrity.”
Head was chosen as a torch bearer through a Coca-Cola contest that asked applicants to describe their commitment to sustainable practices. She wrote an essay describing the community garden she contributes to, which is a project of the Nutana Community Association. She has been gardening there for about two years, a practice she describes as “radical.” She said growing her own food is empowering and really good for the community.
Being selected as a winner meant Head got to relive the experience from her fond childhood memory of the torch run – only this time, she was the one holding the flame. “It’s kind of surreal to see something that big and have it impressed upon you as a child, and then get to participate in it.”
Her husband joined her in North Battleford, along with their dog, and her parents made the trip from Alberta to watch her. Her dad even wore his own Olympic jacket from 1988.
“To get to see me run was a big deal. And he was super excited the jacket still fit,” said Head with a laugh.
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