Air and Cars

THE most reported story in the Olympic Games will be the lack of visibility. Yesterday morning was the first time I realized that my 7th floor room was surrounded by Communist-looking high rises and that the city is ringed with mountains, which explains the haze. Some mornings we can't see to the edge of the hotel property. One of the first clear days in weeks.

The hi def cameras that we point at the $3 Billion stadium from the prototypic robo platform 40M off the ground sees nothing! It's like looking at a diamond ring in a bowl of milk. So, the lazy reporter who can't crack the substantial language barrier can always report on the fact that she can't see across the street! We'll hear this story every day, and it's too bad because the Chinese people are very sweet and deserve to be successful.

I hope they recorded all the beauty shots yesterday and can just play them back as if they were live. This way, a million people can drive their cars again and go back to work. Too bad for the long distance runners, but they must be in love with misery anyway, so they'll be right at home in this air.

I looked under a Strada crane platform yesterday and saw lots of little green frogs, so maybe it's not so polluted here after all?

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The taxi caravan to dinner is a scene from a video game as we all tail gate around the hairpin ramp that'slit up like a pinball game. Driving is a new pursuit here, and we Laowi just want to know where to put in the quarters and see what will happen. The roads have been thinned of the usual traffic to make we for we imported Olympic Officials, so our drivers are the cocks of the walk, blaring their horns at the bicycle trucks full of melons and barking curses at the uniformed tool booth attendants. We carry Chinese characters to convey our destination, and draw clocks to arrange pick up times. Maps weren't legal until fairly recently, and I haven't seen a good one yet.


We were thrilled when our 3 car caravan stopped on the expressway and backed up to the exit we'd just passed. At our venue, Rowing and kayaking, there is a compound with 300 shiney new bicycles that no one's allowed to ride because bicycling is too dangerous.

Olympic guards. In Greece we’d refuse to stop for the police unless they stood up from their plastic coca cola umbrella chairs and motion for us to stop our speeding tiny SKUDAS. (Dude, I’m not stopping unless you get up off your ass!) On we’d go. Not here. We drive past 3 KM of young (army?) guards standing absolutely erect at attention, completely alone in a suburban corn field.