On Olympic opening night the glossy, polished streets of
Beijing are swarming with proud residents, pushy
photographers, and a million officials who do not quite know
what to do with themselves.
Evenings in the city have begun to thrill with excitement and
quiver with anticipation.
People gather to talk, eat and watch the gigantic screens
projecting the last days of the torch relay, which are set up
in parks, shopping centres and busy thoroughfares.
Among the throng, more than 300,000 security personal are
keeping watch, and flashing police cars roam the streets in
convoys, though what they are looking for is hard to tell.
As the days have dwindled towards the longed-for opening
there is hope - and optimism - on the streets that these
Olympics will be the success the Chinese leadership, and the
people, dearly want them to be.
Leading up to the opening, predictions of gloom and mishap
were widespread.
For a while it seemed China could do no right, and every day
the media would report another shortcoming: pollution levels
unfit for athletes, incompetent taxi drivers who do not speak
English, structural issues with the Birds Nest, problems with
the water, and of course the usual medley of media
censorship, exploitation of workers, Tibet, Darfur and Burma.
In a country of one billion people, trouble is never hard to
find.
The tides turned somewhat in May when an earthquake measuring
8.0 on the Richter scale struck Sichuan province in Western
China, killing more than 70,000 people.
The Government's response was swift and efficient, and
praised widely by humanitarian groups, especially in contrast
to the junta's lethargic and inept handling of Cyclone
Nargis' destruction in Burma. The communist country has spent
$US40 billion ($NZ57.8 billion) on the games, the most that
has ever been spent on them.
Across Beijing their efforts gleam for all to see; the newly
extended airport (now the biggest in the world) and subway
system have gone into action. Chinese residents are also in
on the effort.
Authorities have requested people to stop spitting, to line
up in an orderly fashion, and to avoid asking foreigners
personal questions about their age, love life and salaries.
It is advisable to not wear more than three colours at once,
and to not tuck your T-shirt up to reveal your tummy as some
Chinese men do to stay cool.
The Beijing Catering Trade Association has ordered all 112
designated Olympic restaurants to take dog meat off the menu,
as it is feared this custom may offend Westerners.
Many Beijing residents seem happy to comply - especially the
younger generation - and are appreciative that their
government is attempting to "civilise" them, as one young
woman said to me in Tiananmen Square.
But for their efforts, their "development", they want praise
where it is due, and are angry that foreigners only want to
write of "bad things" in China.
Other countries are jealous, this young woman told me.
Jealous of China's progress and success.
The hazy, polluted skies of Beijing - one of the chief
criticisms of China hosting the Olympics - have steadily
begun to clear this week, and a top WHO official (World
Health Organisation) said he has been "extremely
dissatisfied" with the media for exaggerating the current
state of pollution, and that grey skies are not an accurate
representation of the severity of the pollution.
In Beijing more than 70,000 volunteers are at work, and you
cannot walk down the street without offers of help beating
down from all sides.
Policemen and women and volunteers watch to see that you are
finding your way all right, crossing the road safely, and
using chopsticks that are clean.
Last night, in Ditan Park, in the centre of the city, a
thousand people squeezed together on the ground with picnic
rugs and bites to eat, to sit through nearly four hours of
the Opening ceremony, never seeming to tire for a moment.
The Chinese people clapped and cheered for the most
unexpected countries; Turkmenistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Germany,
France and the United States - though when George Bush
flickered on to the screen the crowd mainly booed.
Walking home just minutes before the night's thrilling end,
fireworks burst into the sky, and people poured out of
restaurants and homes - startled babies blinking at the
glowing spectacle.
Chefs still rolling dumplings jumped up and down as police
and military men tried in vain to keep the crowds from
claiming the roads - but it was impossible.
"China! China!" they shouted together.
- Eleanor Ainge Roy is a freelance journalist and studies
history and politics at the University of Otago.
