They started closing the roads off near the Olympic Complex at about 4:30pm Sunday. What had been a tangle of taxis and buses became all but deserted as people prepared for the end of the Olympic Marathon, which in turn, ended the Athens 2004 Games.

As far as I was concerned, all was right with the world. I had a ticket to the Closing Ceremony.

In all of my Olympic comings and goings, I’d never seen an Opening or Closing in person, and this year I had not even made it inside the stadium.

It was worth the wait. I entered to see the stadium floor had been transformed from an athletic field to one covered in a field of wheat and bathed in golden light.

Like a Greek dance, the Ceremony started slowly and then moved very quickly.

Punctuated with fireworks, the theme was entirely Greek, with performers dressed in costumes from throughout the country dancing and harvesting the wheat before athletes took the field for a final farewell.

My ticket put me in the media section at the opposite end of the stadium from the caldera and the Olympic flame. As luck would have it, I was also on the front row over an entrance for the participants and could peer over the rail to see who was waiting in the wings.

Beijing will host the 2008 Olympics, and Chinese performers had a part in the ceremony before the torch dipped down one more time to allow a small child to help extinguish the flame.

Reverence gave way to celebration as the stadium erupted into a huge concert by well-known Greek singers. The stadium was rocking.

Most of us outsiders had no clue what was being sung or who was singing it, but it didn’t matter.

We were dancing, the athletes were dancing. No one seemed to care what country you were from. We were all Olympians for a few minutes.

Eventually, of course, it had to end and as people filed out of the stadium, many of the media folks in our section started heading towards the field.

Well, why not? We joined them.

Soon we were down on the stadium floor along with everyone else. People were hugging and celebrating and we were right there in the middle of them.

We gathered some of the plastic wheat sheaves that were still scattered on the floor and made our way out. People began begging us for a piece of wheat. I’m still not sure what was so significant about that wheat, but some people were desperate to have a piece of it. We happily began dispensing the mementos and the ensuing joy for some people was unbelievable.

By the time we made it back to the Media Press Center, our armload of wheat was down to two pieces.

An impromptu party had broken out on the roof of the Press Center but we stayed only a while before heading downtown for one more look at the ancient stadium.

Still lit from the afternoon’s Marathon, it was beautiful. In stark contrast to the crowds at the new stadium, the old one stood as a quiet testimony of the endurance of the Olympic spirit.

The President of the International Olympic Committee Jacques Rogges pronounced during Sunday’s Closing that these had been “Dream Games.”

I couldn’t agree more.

There is a malady that has taken hold here of many members of the news media, which we have named the Olympic Fatigue Syndrome.

The symptoms: bleary eyes, interrupted thought process, forgetfulness and more frequent calls to loved ones back home. In the case of men, the illness is also often accompanied by several days beard growth.

For the last 16 days of the Games, we have all been starting early and finishing late. Days filled with competitions, controversies and chasing stories have even taken their toll. One of my officemates from National Public Radio has actually pulled three all-nighters.

I had an invitation to my first Olympic Party last night, the much-coveted Sports Illustrated party where all the athletes congregate.

I was just too exhausted to go. It started at 10:30pm. I was still at work. Then came the big choice.

Party? Or Sleep?

I chose sleep. I still had to get through another day.

It’s funny what a good night’s sleep will do, and today dawned a new day for us all. It is our final day of the Games of the 28th Olympiad and there is a distinct change in the atmosphere. Smiles are back on the faces of the people in the halls. Energy that was waning seems somehow renewed with the end in sight.

The usually bustling security checkpoint at the Main Press Center was today deserted at 8:30 a.m. when I arrived, as people pace themselves for tonight’s closing ceremony.

For all the apprehension we had at the beginning, things have gone well and have been remarkably easy for us. The transportation functioned well, information was easy to get, and the venues – although many were built hastily and at the last minute – were beautiful.

The thing I have missed most is that sort of celebration fever that usually takes over an Olympic city where everyone gets excited about the Games. It just didn’t happen here.

About five nights ago, I wrapped up early enough to get away from the Olympic complex and go downtown Athens. The place had finally started picking up. I even ran into Australian swimmers Sarah Ryan, Alice Mills and Leisel Jones roaming around near the Acropolis.

Competition is over for most of the athletes, and they can finally enjoy themselves. Tonight will be that time for me. Rumor has it, there could be a ticket to closing ceremonies with my name on it.

Packing began yesterday with solid fervor and office floors throughout the Main Press Center were filled with stacks of this and that as people sort through what would be shipped home, what would be given away and what would be thrown away.

Volunteers are going home with armloads of gifts from the companies they have been working with. People are finally taking down those pictures of their families and pets which have been tacked to office walls or posted on refrigerators.

In the ultimate example of high-tech homesickness, I spied one guy with a webcam on his laptop, roaming the halls using wireless Internet and explaining to his young daughter that this was where he had been for the last three weeks. She wanted to know when he would be home.

Soon, very soon.

They are everywhere ... and I mean everywhere. On the streets. In the airport. In the Metro. Driving cars or buses. At the press facilities. And of course in the Olympic venues.

Just about everywhere you look, you see them.

In their distinctive blue pants or shorts and white polo shirts with brightly colored sleeves with the Athens 2004 emblem on their backs. And, oh yes, that award winning Olympic smile.

They are the Olympic Volunteers. Forty-Five thousand strong.


Five thousand come from other countries. The rest are home-grown Greeks and darned proud of it ... and of the Games being held in their homeland.

The Athens 2004 folks are all too happy to tell you that 160 thousand people applied for those positions and those accepted are the best of the best.

For a very long time, the volunteers outnumbered the fans in the Olympic complex, but as things picked up, so did their spirits and the ones we see daily around here are downright perky in their zeal to help us out and make our lives easier.

When the key to my office didn’t work, one of the girls had a new one cut at the key maker next to her house.

The day I was feeling sick early on, a mere doctor wouldn’t do. Six or seven of them got together, one called a friend who called a friend, who called a specialist and despite my protestations that I would be ok, I was whisked into an appointment. (I was at least able to convince them that I did not need an ambulance for an earache.)

We’ve become like a big family at the Main Press Center and the Olympic venues. “Our Volunteers” as we call them, have familiar faces and familiar smiles.

A friendly lot, they may not always able to answer your questions, and are often unable to understand the language you’re speaking, but they have been ever enthusiastic as to their desire to help you in any way possible.

They, like us, have settled into the routine about the time it’s all wrapping up.

It’s almost uncanny how weeks after you had a minor introduction they will remember your name and where they met you.

Those I met on my first day here seven weeks ago at the airport still remember me. I wonder if that was part of their training?


Where once the big thing to exchange was pins, people have now begun trading addresses and phone numbers. They even have their own website: www.athens2004volunteer.com where they can share thoughts and stay in touch.

Less than two days to go and we’re all getting nostalgic.

A good chuck of us media types have, for the most part, covered other Olympics and we have come in from throughout the world.

For many of the volunteers, this is their world and has been since they were accepted into the volunteer program. This will likely be their only Olympics. They have thrown themselves into it whole-heartedly to make the most of it.

And they have succeeded.

I’m sure there are rules for driving in Athens, and when I figure out just what they are, I’ll let you know.

I’ve spent a lot of time in traffic in Athens in the last month, both as the driver and the drivee.

There is something to be said about flying past historical landmarks at the speed of light. The first time I did it, I was in the back of a taxi, clutching the door handle and frantically trying to remember if I’d updated my will.

After about the 20th or 30th time, it becomes passé.

Driving in Athens is definitely an adventure.

When I graduated to the driver seat, my attitude shifted and while I still don’t have time to truly appreciate the landmarks whizzing past me, I’m in awe of my surroundings. I just shake my head in amazement that I’m actually in Athens and driving through history – past and present.

Oh, look, there’s the Olympic Complex!

Over there – parliament with it's special Honor Guards!

Ho-hum, there is the Temple of Zeus!

But as amazed as I am at these surroundings, it is part of everyday life for Athenians.

To attempt to learn driving laws here, I watched my taxi drivers - which was a big mistake.

While I admit I have somewhat adopted the driving posture of whoever gets there first - wins, there are a few practices that I’m likely not to emulate:

1. It doesn’t matter which direction you go on a one-way street, because, hey, you are only going one way.

2. Red lights are a suggestion, not a requirement.

3. If a police officer waves a ticket book at you to stop, it’s acceptable to wave back and keep going.

And on a motorcycle, it’s perfectly OK to wear your helmet on your arm instead of your head.

Sidewalks are for parking, streets are for walking.

Want to stop and have a coffee and can’t find a place to park? Just leave the car in the middle of the street while you sit in a café and watch the ensuing chaos. Everyone else does.

Some Greeks approach driving as a contact sport.

Fortunately for me, they have created the much ballyhooed “Olympic Lanes” as a haven for everyone else.
These lanes are sacred. And for drivers who normally don’t seem to care about rules, they are unbelievably revered.

The Olympic Lanes are the inside lanes of the avenues connecting all of the Olympic venues. They are recognized by a distinct orange line separating them from the others, decorated with the Olympic rings and carefully watched by Greek police officers.

Cars and buses which have Olympic passes are allowed to whiz past the other two lanes of traffic.
The bad thing about those lanes is that the policemen watching over them tend to step off the curb with no notice and throw up their white gloved hand for you to stop. But in typical Greek fashion, if you don’t stop, as long as you don’t hit him, it’s OK.

Blue and white police lights in your rear view mirror are OK, red, white and blue lights are not.

I prefer neither and as long as I’m driving like a Greek, I’ll try to keep it that way.

It’s one thing to be in Athens during the Olympics. It’s another to actually see an event in person.

Contrary to popular belief, every journalist here does not actually get to witness the competitions first hand. In fact, for some, the only view they have of the stadium or arenas is from the roof of the Main Press Center.

Seeing an event, while physically sitting in the stands is sort of icing on the cake for many reporters. Who has time to make the journey and fight the crowds?

We have deadlines to meet.

Most of us see the sporting events themselves from large and small screen televisions in a building about a quarter mile from the nearest venue.

There are 28 sports included in the Olympic Games, covering 37 disciplines. A total of 301 medal ceremonies taking place, with a total of 2,983 medals being awarded.

That’s a lot of events over the 16-day period.

But, many of us are here to cover not the actual results, but the stories around them. These are the personal stories of the athletes and the people involved; the stories about the business of the Olympics themselves, and the so-called “color” or scene setting stories.

Those stories require a little more set up work, making of phone calls, doing interviews, chasing down rumors. Things you can’t always do at a stadium or sporting hall.

The MPC is a 24 operation and any given hour of the day, you can find reporters from around the world filing stories.

Since the game schedule starts early in the morning and goes late, some people are putting in some horrendous hours.

To make things a bit easier on us, the Athens Organizing Committee provides support staff to help – including managing the daily data flood. Schedules, results, biographies of athletes, and just about any statistic imaginable are available through a computer system.

There are terminals set up throughout the building and in the main media workroom, as well as in the workrooms at the various venues, so whatever information you need is at your fingertips when you need it.

And there is a small, invaluable army of volunteers who do a loop throughout the building delivering results from an event almost as soon as it is over.

For those who don’t have an office, there is an entire wall of cubbyholes in the Press room where the results are available to be picked up.

Of course there are food operations to keep us fed, but there are also a few other little amenities.

The MPC has a bank, a travel agency, a small store for incidentals, and a post office.

Best of all? Massages.

Yes, you read correctly.

A local massage group has set up in one of the lobbies, and provides free 15-minute sessions to those suffering from Olympic-sized stress or from carrying tons of equipment back and forth.

About the only things missing from the MPC are a laundry service and beds, although some people have brought sleeping bags, and some couches can be transformed, as needed.

And as the days go on, believe me, they are needed.