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.

I had just finished my daily assignments covering the Olympic Games here in Athens. That's when my computer screen started shaking. In fact, my whole desk sort of did a little shimmy.

I looked at my co-worker Sheila.

She looked at me.

I looked at Ed, the editor.

He looked at me.

“Did we just have an earthquake?” I asked.

Sheila allowed as to how she thought she had felt something.

Ed allowed as to how he had been shaking his leg and had probably just kicked Sheila’s desk.

“Then how could Janice have felt it?”

Ed began to test the strength of the floor by pounding it to see if I could feel the movement 10 feet away.

I couldn’t.

It had to be a quake.

Peering out the window, I didn’t see people fleeing into the streets and heard no wailing of sirens, so we all sort of shrugged our shoulders, swapped stories about past earthquakes we’d been in and then went back to work.

Within minutes, however, the entire press center was a-buzzin’.

Word had crossed the newswire that a 4.5-point quake had hit Greece and everyone back in the States was wondering if we were ok.

Athens sits in a seismic zone, and was hit by a much larger quake in 1999 which killed about 60 people, so there was a legitimate concern. In fact, earthquakes are part of the reason why the International Olympic Committee had taken out a $170 million insurance policy in case the Athens Games had to be called off.

But we weren't thinking of any of that as we shouted back and forth across our modular walls to people in other offices and compared stories over the din of ringing phones.

I sent an amused instant message to my editor at the Monitor, Deborah. She, however, did not see the humor and my phone rang almost instantly as she worried about my well-being.

Bless her.

A reporter from Reuters said he didn’t feel a thing.

The folks at Fox News wondered why I cared at all, “That little thing?”

In one of the odder housing setups here, some of the reporters are living in rooms in a hospital - a maternity hospital. They were happy to report that the duty nurse who monitors their comings and goings said that there didn’t seem to be more pregnant women flocking in to give birth.

I scoped out the Olympic complex next door, then drove around town past various other Olympic sites. It seemed the stadium was still there.

That building way up on the hill that they call the Acropolis already had a few chunks off of it, so it’s hard to tell if it was affected.

But, I was able to personally verify that buildings are still standing, athletes are still competing and all is right at the Athens 2004 Olympics.

I have found the Olympics crowds. They are at the beach.

Monday, I decided to do some exploring at another Olympic area – the coastal zone of Faliro.

Faliro is down on the water near the Port of Piraeus. There are three big stadiums there, and it's where events like beach volleyball, handball and taekwondo are taking place.

But it's also where there is a sponsors' plaza where people can come and be a part of the Olympics without buying a ticket. They can listen to music, play games, watch a laser show, and – best of all for some (like me) – trade pins.

Coca-Cola has sponsored an official pin-trading plaza since the 1988 Olympics in Calgary, Canada, and for each new Olympics the company comes up with a new concept for its area.

The one constant is that there is always a set of Coke pins which sport the number of that particular day in respect to how many days the Games have been underway. In other words, the “pin of the day.”

Sets of these "p.o.d.'s" are quite coveted by traders for two reasons. First, because they have the sponsor logo on them, and any pin with a sponsor logo makes it more valuable.

Secondly, it has the date on it, and that ups the ante on its trading value as well, because it was made specifically for that date of those Games.

I was there to meet up with Christine Mavromichalis, who is the Coca-Cola venue manager. Because many of the Olympic venues have had sparse attendance, we were wondering if the sponsors at the vendor plaza were having the same issue.

Apparently not.

Imagine my surprise when I showed up on the plaza to find myself staring at a giant, red structure with a long line of people streaming into its mouth like hungry little ants. To make sure people could find their trading area easily, the company made the whole installation one big Coke bottle.

I had to thread my way through the crowds to try and find Christine, and hadn’t even gotten past the lip of the bottle before someone descended upon me to scope out the pins I had around my neck. I’d left the ones I wanted to keep at home, and he wasn’t interested in what I had on display, so he moved on.

Fair enough.

While I waited on Christine, I watched company marketing in action: girls dressed in red dresses with the white Coca-Cola swirl on them thrust these big red paper hands upon people entering the bottle.

Apparently these hands are meant for you to take to events and wave about, but I found most people giving each other high fives with them and posing for pictures.

I declined my pair of red hands, saying I needed my hands free for note taking and pin trading.

There were pins everywhere, pins to look at, pins to buy, pins to trade.

There was even a pin trading computer game and of course, the winner wins a pin.

The crowds were packed in around tables where official traders from literally all over the world bartered their wares. Two thousand of them had applied online through Coca-Cola's website to get approval to trade inside the bottle. About 500 were accepted and they take turns at two-hour shifts during the Games.

Some of the guys I recognized from the pin trading area near the Main Press Center. Each person literally has thousands of pins, and like me, the ones they aren’t willing to part with, they don’t bring.

I made a few small trades, but my main quarry was one that only Coke could offer, the p.o.d..This year, they are designed so that each would honor a past Olympics.

For my Day 10 visit, I scored the Munich Games of 1972, which thrilled me because they were probably the first Olympics I really remember watching. And it was a pin that opened like a door… even better!

Clutching my prize in my hand, I sauntered out the back end of the bottle and into the night. I quickly tucked my pin in my purse, so no one would be tempted to try and trade me for it, because this is one I’m keeping.

Some of the best things to come out of the Olympics (besides the records and the medals) are the photographic images.

At any given event, there is usually an army of photographers watching every move of the athletes. Often, the clicking of their shutters is so loud that you hear it above the noise of the competition.

Some are there to get a shot of the event, but there is a select group that is out there to get THE SHOT of the event.

It’s not always the winner their cameras are trained on. They are instead after something that will capture the artistry of the athlete… the “Kodak Picture of the Day.”

Kodak has a huge facility set up in the basement of the Main Press Center in Athens, to help service the more than 1190 photographers working for various publications. The company also has six of its own guys charged with the mission to go out and bring back the one image out of all the thousands taken in a day that will be printed as a poster and called the “Picture of the Day” or P.O.D. as we, who await its arrival, have come to call it.

Once in a while the honor goes to a photographer from the Getty Images photo service, but all are the sort of shots that you look at, shake your head and ask, “How’d they do that?

Our daily AroundtheRings.com newsletter is featuring the P.O.D. on the cover each day. It wasn’t necessarily planned that way, but Kodak is printing our publication during the Olympics, and we asked for a shot from the Opening Ceremony the first day of the Games, and after that, the routine just sort of happened.

Kodak chooses the P.O.D and makes daily posters of it, which have become coveted mementos of the Games.

Being a real lover of photography, the ability to be a part of this aspect of the Olympics has been an amazing experience.

The photos have a sharpness and composition that make them true art. They have ranged from a North Korean table tennis player, to the gold medal-winning, Italian, individual saber fencing champ. From a close-up shot of a Slovakian kayaker on his gold medal quest, to a Japanese pole vaulter.

Each morning, the Kodak photographers meet with Richard Connolly, the facility head, and plot out what would be the best option. Which sport will provide the best image?

Then they scatter to their assigned locations.

Every day, around 5 p.m., I’m like a kid on Christmas morning when I head down to the basement. What will be today’s gift?

Sometimes, the picture gets chosen early on, and it’s waiting on me. Sometimes, I’m the one doing the waiting – often late into the evening. I think Rich gets a kick out of keeping me in suspense.

We format the whole publication around the cover, and we can’t finish until we have the P.O.D.

“So, Rich, what do we have today?”

“How’d you like the men’s 100 meter race?”

“Sounds great!”

“Good, it should be over about 11:30 tonight.”

“Hmm, I’m thinking there had to be some great pictures of sailing from this morning.”

Before the Games finish, I think I'll tell our designer, Xenia to drop one of MY pictures into a dummy cover page, give it to Rich and tell him we chose our own P.O.D.

I’m thinking the look on his face would definitely be a Kodak moment.

You've seen them on TV, you've read the quotes that come from them, but attending an Olympic News Conference is a gold medal event in and of itself.

First of all, you need a ticket to get in.

Ok, well not a real ticket, but if the presser (that’s media speak) is at an Olympic Venue, which 99.99 percent of them are, you have to have an official media accreditation to get in.

As with any scheduled event, you must go through the equivalent of a ticket taker to gain entry to the building. A security person scans you, checks your badge, and makes sure you are legit before you enter.

Then you make your way to the assigned venue, and take your seats in the stands while the photographers jockey for the best position to catch the athletes.

There are big venues and small venues, like this one where some 500 media types surrounded the Australian swim team.

You can watch from up close, or from far away.

Some pressers are well attended, others are not.

Early on in the Games, it seemed everyone was trying to get on the schedule to get some publicity. The various conference rooms were booked back to back with a plethora of organizing committees, sports teams, or government officials.

Now, they’ve slacked off to largely the daily briefing, and the trotting out of various medalists to meet the press.

I attended one of the early sessions for the US swimmers, including the much-touted medal winner Michael Phelps, and plunked myself down in a front row seat.

While we waited, I saw the manager walk down the line of the empty tables and check all the water bottles to make sure their seals had not been broken.

The volunteer who had just placed them there was a bit offended and whispered, “They are all new.”

To which the coach replied, “I’m sorry, it’s my job to make sure that they are.”

In the wake of all the brouhaha over athletes taking performance drugs, she was making sure that no one pulled a fast one on her team and tampered with their water. I wouldn’t have even though of such a thing, but she obviously had, just in case someone else had thought of it as well.

I was feeling quite comfortable in my big ticket seat, and just about the time I’d settled in for my view of the spectacle, the doors opened and the photographers stampeded in.

The photogs who cover news conferences are not usually the same ones who cover the actual sporting event, but that doesn’t mean a presser is less competitive.

As they descended upon the stage, I was crushed by the hoard. Their cameras were bigger, they won.

I took my few happy snaps, and the headed to the safety of the cheap seats.

At the next Olympics, I’ll start training earlier for the photo competition.

It’s hard to go to an Olympics and just watch objectively.

Of course you are going to root, root, root for the home team.

But unlike other sports competitions where people come wearing their favorite team’s logos, at the Olympics, it's all about the flags.

It's not enough to wear simply the colors of your country's flag. True Olympic fans come dressed literally in the flag itself.

And by being dressed in the flag, that means anything goes - from flag shirts and hats to bandanas, shorts or skirts, backpacks and purses.

Then, there is the “Super Fan” option, which seems to be the most popular. With this, the flag adorns the fan's shoulders like a cape, creating a nice flowing effect behind the enthusiast as he or she parades around.

The more obvious your flag, the better. And yes, silly displays work as well. The whole point is, of course, to eliminate any question as to which team you are pulling for.

Blame it on the security concerns associated with the Athens games, but the few fans who did show up in the early days last week, started things out in a somewhat subdued manner.

There were few flags to be seen, except within the stands themselves. They appeared magically from pockets and backpacks to be waved around as the various teams began their competition. Then they would disappear just as quickly after the team finished.

It was as if the fans were checking each other out to see who would do what first.

Now, as we enter the big second week and medals are being handed out left and right, (32 medal ceremonies today alone), it's as if the fans have started competing with one another on just how rabid they can be in support of their home country.

In some cases, that even means dressing in traditional costumes of their homeland, which, of course, takes some planning ahead.

We spotted one group of Hungarians down in the Plaka area near the Acropolis who went all out in this respect. They did, however, show their ability to be flexible and broke out in a hearty, somewhat broken rendition of “Waltzing Matilda” when they spotted an Australian flag.

Yes, you see and hear it all here, sports fans.

For those who didn’t plan ahead, there are last-minute options available. Face painting is quite popular and offers an easy solution for those who forgot to pack their flags. There are several stands set up to accommodate the flagless.

While the artists tend to try and just put a small flag on your cheek, I have seen some fans who have had their whole faces painted.

This is an option I’d recommend against.

It’s quite hot in Athens right now and it doesn’t take long in this heat for the colors to be sliding off your face and down your neck.

Which probably is not the best way to show your colors.

It doesn’t matter where you go to eat in a city that’s hosting the Olympics, you can consider it international dining.

Just listen in to the conversations at the tables around you and you’ll hear any number of languages being spoken. And if you can decipher what they’re saying, there are any number of stories being told.

Since the games got under way, most of my meals have come with golden arches attached because McDonald’s is the only thing fast and easy at the Main Press Center. But when we can escape the MPC, our refuge of choice is a place called Vageli’s, a souvlaki stand down in the Plaka section of Athens near the Acropolis.

We discovered it by accident early on in our five-week long (and counting) stay here.

Owner Vageli Constantine is a Greek, raised in Australia. My co-worker, Anthony “Adonis” Stavrinos is also Aussie-Greek. And when they struck up a conversation, it turns out Anthony’s mom and Vageli grew up together.

What are the odds?

From then on, Vageli’s has become our version of “Cheers.”
Just don’t call me “Norma.”

The food is good and cheap and the world stops by while you eat.

On any given day, it can be filled with locals or resemble a United Nations conference with the diversity of people there.

The entire shop is smaller than my kitchen back home. The tables and chairs actually take up parking spaces on the street, which is a perfectly acceptable thing to do in Greece, apparently.

As Vageli’s Olympic crowds have grown, so has his space on the street.

Vageli’s champion gyro maker Yanni is a master to watch. You could almost set his technique to music as he quickly assembles it all on a pita and then gives the paper wrap a final twist to hold it all together.

A lot of other Aussie-Greeks have adopted the place, including a couple of the dancers who took part in opening ceremonies and will be a part of closing, as well.

Maria Karabelas is from Melbourne and is quite proud of both her motherlands. Prior to the ceremony, she had been coy about her role, but she was not the least bit shy about telling us what happened after.

Maria and her friend Efy were part of a group of performers dressed as marble statues.

It seems that Maria’s exit from the field took her right through the VIP section of the stadium and as she was walking along in decked out in full statue regalia, she spied former President George H.W. Bush.

Still riding high on her excitement from the ceremony and being the friendly, enthusiastic person she is, she bolted right for him, with her hand extended and shouted, “Hi! I’m Australian!”

Of course, the Secret Service agents watching it didn’t see the international relations value in this behavior. I’m also sure it would have been tough to explain to the 43rd president of the US that his father, the 41st president, was attacked at the Olympics by a crazed statue.

They unceremoniously grabbed Maria, who in turn shrugged them off.

Acting every bit the offended lady she was, she looked at the chagrined agents and declared, “Leave me alone, I’m Australian.”

Well, this seemed good enough for the former Prez. He told the rather surprised bodyguards, “Leave her alone, she's Australian.” He then proceeded to invite Maria to join him to watch the rest of the show.

And there she sat for the remainder of the evening.

Her audience at Vageli’s suggested that perhaps it was Maria’s outfit more than her nationality that won her the prized viewing spot next to Mr. Bush, but either way it worked.

We were all disappointed we don’t have a picture of the two of them in the stands, but think that’s probably the one thing the Secret Service guys were able to control.
That is, of course, unless there had been a photographer around who was Australian.

Invigorated by my successful viewing of the swimming competition Tuesday night and fortified with sunscreen, I decided that I could not admit defeat in my quest to gain entry to the ancient stadium of Panantheneiko.

The bright, white marble seemed to taunt me each time I saw it, and that horseshoe shape was beginning to look like a smug smile aimed directly at me, so I plotted my strategy.

I drove by a few times in the morning, eying it carefully. Checking the schedule (what a concept!), I nonchalantly parked across the street and gauged the length of the line from a spot beside yet another statue of a Greek athlete, wearing yet another wilted olive wreath around its neck.

I’m sure it was lovely when it was first placed there, but in this heat that could have been the day before and it would have looked the same.

I casually strolled by the ticket line and then pounced.

This time, I would not be denied!

I explained to the volunteer overseeing the line that I wanted to attend the event that had already started.

The words were like magic. I was taken immediately to the head of the line, where I plopped down my 10 Euros and was duly rewarded with a ticket.

Victory!

I proudly marched to the security area and was quickly scanned through.

At last, I was in!

But my bluster gave way almost immediately to humility as I took in my surroundings. Instead of heading straight to my seat, I had to stop and take it all in.

It was truly beautiful.

All of that white marble gave off a new aura, one of history and majesty and it was something to be viewed and enjoyed.

The archery competition was at the far end of the stadium, so there was a quiet that added to the moment.

I walked around a bit, taking pictures, before finding a seat. Volunteers steered me away from the base of the stadium and up stairs in the back. Considering that meant I would be climbing up the back to be able to climb down the front, it seemed like just another excuse to see parts of the stadium I had not seen before.

I didn't realize it, but there was even a good view of the Acropolis from the top.

That meant more picture taking and more oooing and ahhing on my part.

The marble was glaringly clean, having been scrubbed down in anticipation of the Olympic crowds. From the size of the crowds, it will likely stay clean for a while.

We were all directed to one area to the right of the competition so that we’d all sit together and not be so spread out. Still the stadium, which holds about 5,000 people, seemed very empty. There were only about three hundred of us there, including the archers and the journalists covering them.

I was able to climb right down to the third row and sit in back of the coaches for a great view of the competition.

It is really a relaxing sport to watch, with polite clapping at the end of each quiver’s shot. I was there for a preliminary round between Juanjuan Zhang of China and Alison Williamson of Great Britain, with Williamson advancing.

While I don’t know much about the sport of archery, I soon found out it has some serious fans. People were taking notes and keeping score, and both women had solid blocks of fans in the stand to cheer them on.

Work beckoned and I couldn’t stay for the whole match, but that was OK. I’d achieved my goal, and the experience was far better than I’d even hoped.

By that time, the sun was high, the crowds at the ticket line were back, and so were the people posing for silly pictures in front of my new friend, the stadium.

This time, when I looked at it, the white marble was smiling with me.

I’d not quite finished pouting about having an unused Archery ticket sitting on my desk, when the Ticket Fairy appeared with two tickets to Tuesday night’s swimming for my coworker Anthony Stavrinos and me.

I was ecstatic.

Swimming has been very popular, and the tickets are the subject of much begging by the media.

I even witnessed a reporter down on his knees in front of the USOC’s offices, pleading for a ticket to one of the earlier meets.

A big advantage of having a Media credential is that with it, comes access to the media buses. At 7 p.m., I walked out the front door of the Main Press Center, and onto my big red chariot to head to the Aquatic Center.

I had no idea what was on the night’s program and at that point didn’t care.

All I knew was that after six weeks in Athens and four days into the Olympics, I was finally going to see an event.

About 10 of us piled off the bus on the back road of OAKA, went through security, through the media workspace, and up to our designated media viewing area.

Of course the best seats go to the paying customers, so we had a better view of the stands where athletes from other sports sit to cheer on their teammates.

But no worries, as it turned out, for as journalists left after various heats to file updates, I kept sliding down the row towards the pool. Imagine my surprise when I ended up with a bird’s eye view of the finish line AND the area where the athletes go to meet the media after they swim.

I was able to watch both the athletes competing, and the media competing for the athletes.

Australia’s Ian Thorpe, known as the “Thorpedo,” finished third in the 100 meter freestyle, but didn’t seem concerned as I listened in while he coolly explained his strategy to the Australian media.

Then I looked up to see the US’s Michael Phelps coming to the pool for the 200 meter butterfly. I couldn’t believe my luck, both of the big swimming stars right before my eyes!

My media objectivity gave way to national pride as the buzzer sounded and the swimmers dove in. A 200m competition means swimmers make four lengths of the pool, and Phelps’ lead grew with each lap. I was holding my breath as he touched the pad and then turned to look at the result screen to see where he was.

Olympic Gold!! And a record of 1:54.04 seconds!

Less than a second separated him from Takashi Yamamoto of Japan, who took silver. Stephen Parry of Great Britain was third. The crowd in the stands fully appreciated the drama of it all, and celebrated the moment with rousing cheers.

Then there were a few women’s preliminary races, and soon women in Greek traditional costumes came out at the far end of the pool with medals and wreaths in hand.

The three winners took their podiums, and Princess Anne of Great Britain, herself a former Olympian rider presented the medals. Then of course, the US national anthem played, and the Stars and Stripes were raised along with some goose bumps on my arms. The medals podium was really far away, so the big screen TV was my best view, but my perch in the media seating once again proved to be a good one.

When the winners made their victory walk and Phelps stopped to speak to the cameras, he was just below me.

He was happy.

I was happy.

It was a Golden Moment for me.

If you're looking for an enduring symbol of the Olympics, you need go no further than downtown Athens and Panathinaiko Stadium, where the first modern-day Olympics took place in 1896.

The beautiful horseshoe shaped, white marble structure stands on the edge of busy Konstantinou Avenue and within site of the Acropolis, right across from the National Gardens.

It’s a popular tourist site, and on a normal day you would find any number of people there, having pictures taken with olive leaf wreaths on their head or racing around the stadium’s track, recreating the end of the first marathon competition 108 years ago.

Even I have made that loop once or twice when I've visited here.

But for these two weeks in August, access to the Kallimaro area is a bit more restricted because it’s once again the site of Olympic competition. The whole stadium is swathed with bright blue Athens 2004 banners and the only way in is with a ticket, which I found out the hard way.

Archery is being held here, and that historic track will once again be home for the end of the Olympic marathon.

A little history lesson here: the marathon itself is named for a small town north of Athens where Greece’s Battle of Marathon took place in 490 BC. Legend has it that the messenger Phidippides ran 26 miles back to Athens to announce victory over the powerful Persian army.

Greeks are darned proud of creating the marathon competition.

While archery may not be the most popular of Olympic sports, a lot of people are going just for the opportunity to sit on those hard marble seats and be a part of history. It also doesn’t hurt that the 10-euro ticket makes it one of the most affordable sports of the Games.

Conveniently enough, should the mood hit you to attend, there is a ticket booth set up just to the left of the stadium.

It’s also is a favorite spot to purchase tickets in general because of the historic backdrop. In fact, a lot of people like to come by just to take pictures and soak up the ambience.

It’s a good place to spot groups of fans showing pride in their country. There’s nothing like a white marble backdrop to show off the color of your flag.

There’s also nothing like white marble to reflect the blinding sun and broil people sitting in the stands, or waiting in line for tickets.

I tried to use my media credential to get access to the venue, but was turned away because I didn’t have the proper lettering on the front. No amount of cajoling, begging or pleading would get me in.

So I stood in line myself to buy a ticket. There were only about 20 people ahead of me, but the ticket sellers saw no medals in their future, and made no attempts at setting any speed record. I was there about 40 minutes before being earning the chance to stand in the shade of the booth.

I inquired about tickets to gymnastics, but the 200 euro or $250 price was more than I had on me, so I settled for just the archery ticket.

Timing, as they say, is everything.

Poised with ticket in hand, I felt victorious. I proudly waved it as I marched over to the security guard who had turned me away earlier, only to be told that I was three hours early for the next match and still couldn’t get in.

Olympic lesson of the day: make sure you read the front of the ticket you purchase for the time of the competition.

Dejected and now sunburned, I was turned away.

I did, however, have a consolation prize.

While walking back past the front of the stadium, I saw a camera crew talking to someone in a Team USA uniform. It was archer Jennifer Nichols and her family.

Jenny will be competing this afternoon.

I, however, will be here at the Media Press Center, working and nursing a farmer’s suntan.

Olympic lesson #2 of the day: remember your sunscreen.

There's a sort of pin frenzy which takes hold at Olympic Games. It's hard to believe until you see it happen, and then get caught up in its wake.

I must confess - I’m a pin-a-holic.

My obsession began during the Barcelona Olympics when I wore a plain USA pin on my shirt, and soon found people stopping me and asking me what else I had to trade. Curious about it all, I became a sort of student of the sport of pin trading, and became so obsessed that my friend Kathy who was with me, told me she was going to have me committed if I didn’t stop.

I blame it all on the “Dream Team.” Barcelona was when Larry Bird, Charles Barkley, Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, et al., formed the ultimate powerhouse for USA basketball at the Games.

There was a limited edition “Dream Team” pin that everyone wanted, and I joined in on the competition to get one. Four days, six pins, and massive negotiations, I finally got possession of the coveted pin, which, I’m sad to say, now resides in a drawer someplace.

I have since developed a nasty Olympic-related habit, which has continued through four subsequent Olympics. Rather than first looking at someone in the face, I look at their clothing, their lanyards, and their hats, scoping their very person for a pin I haven’t seen and now must have.

Olympic pin trading is a sport unto itself. There are actually people who make a living buying and selling the pins considered to be collectible.

There are literally thousands of pins you can purchase, which the Organizing Committees go through great pains to design and sell, but they are mere pretenders to the throne. The most sought after pins are those created by the sponsors, host broadcasters, National Organizing Committees and Sports Federations, because they are allowed to use those all important Olympic Rings.

Some pins are quite detailed, and given only to special guests or officials, such as a Samsung pin given to our Around the Rings editor, which has a flip phone on it with tiny little buttons. Some Torch Relay pins have cars with movable wheels. On one I was able to get, you could move a torch bearer down a street towards a tiny Acropolis.

Kodak’s store in OAKA will actually let you put your photo on a pin, but I doubt that’s something you’d like to trade.

I am now the proud owner of an official Bermuda Olympic pin, as well as a pin similar to the one worn by the athletes of the Canary Islands, when they marched in during the Opening Ceremony.

Groups who don’t have rights to the Rings have gotten so creative that some of their pins are actually collectibles. You can find just about anything remotely reminiscent of a Greek figure somehow adopted as part of their logos.

Greek columns, Greek gods, Greek urns, faux rings… it's all there.

Coca-Cola always sets up a pin trading area, but this year it’s out near the beaches and away from the main Olympic Sport area, so some of the serious guys have set up shop along the sidewalk between the International Broadcasting Center and the Main Press Center.

The Olympics volunteers have picked up on the appeal of 'the pin,' and some have gotten quite savvy about what they're worth trading for, and what they're not. Need something done quickly? Offer a pin.

It’s gotten to the point where “No More Pins!” signs have been posted on doors to keep unsolicited trading from taking place. I sadly had to post a sign of my own this afternoon because four groups of people came in while I was writing.

Given me a day or two to catch up and I’ll be back in the heat of the trade.

Now that we’ve somewhat settled down to a schedule, I set out today on my quest to fulfill the needs of my ever-growing souvenir shopping list, for friends back home.

An easy task, right?

Well, not necessarily.

As we say where I’m from in the southern US (and I guess given the Greek love for cats, it’s appropriate), you can’t swing a cat around here without hitting something with the Olympic Rings on it. It’s on just about everything.

And that’s saying something.

The five Olympic Rings are copyrighted and very heavily defended. Anything that is manufactured with the Rings on it, or indeed even the phrase “Athens 2004,” must get approval from the Athens Organizing Committee.

And given what all I’ve seen out there, someone at ATHOC has been very, very busy.
Sponsors pay some big bucks to get the honor of putting those Rings on their products and gain entry to being sold within the Olympic venues.

So guarded is that sponsorship that us folks at the Media Press Center are not allowed to bring any bag or product into the building if it has a logo on it that is not an Olympic Sponsor. ATHOC claims that such displays are “ambush marketing,” and a slap in the face of the sponsors funding the Games.
This created a bit of a problem for some of us because next to the Press Center is a huge grocery store which is not a sponsor. It’s a main source of office supplies and food for us, but to buy anything there means having to bring your own tote bag to bring it back in, because the store’s logo, as the Germans would say, is verboten (forbidden).

While attempting to meet my own Olympic-sized quest, I opted against shopping at the small “official” souvenir stand in the MPC. Instead, I wanted to see the complete range of choices, so I made the hot and dusty trek to the “Official Olympic Superstore” inside the main Olympic Complex.

A cavernous tent creation, located amidst the “Agora” or marketplace, the store is flanked by spectacular arches which provide some shade against the sweltering heat.

It’s an amazing structure that looks different from every angle, and just begs to have its picture taken.
Within the Superstore, you can shop to your heart’s content for anything from “official” baby booties to an "official” inner tube for your pool.

It truly was mind boggling to see what was considered “official.” Of course there were the usual pins, hats, T-shirts and clothing. But, how about Olympics dinnerware?

Or could I interest you in some “official” fine jewelry?

In fact, there is a whole line of “official” pieces designed by a Greek artisan which were produced in limited quantities. Given that I'll be spending almost eight weeks here, I figured I’d earned a small charm from that category.

To break the stress of parting with your euros, the store tries to liven up the experience by offering some entertainment, including clowns making balloon animals and face painting.

I’d say that part was for the kids, but I saw far more adults around, their faces adorned with painted flags from their country and some not so “official” Rings.

The place was packed, but I was able to score some great T-shirts and hats as well as an “official” carry-on bag to take it all back home with. Of course it was all put in an “official” Official Superstore bag.

(Note to self: Next time, do your shopping after dark when the temperatures are a little easier to bear.

But not to worry, there were “official” water bottles to be purchased, and I can hopefully say my shopping is “officially” done. (But I doubt it!))

“Twas the night before the Games and all through the MPC, EVERY creature was stirring, especially me.”

As predicted, my viewing of the opening was from here at the Media Press Center, but it was from a wide variety of locales: from my office with a sideline view of OAKA, on televisions down in the bowels of the printing facilities, on the big screen in the media bullpens, and up on the roof garden.

(Side note: One of the things in our goodie bags that we were given when we registered was a pedometer. Yesterday, I clocked 3695 steps around three buildings and 7 different levels.)

It was fun seeing the various places where people had planted themselves to watch. The hallways were deserted, but you could hear people in their offices working away with the sound of the ceremony blaring. In the basement printing center, I was busily putting together our newsletter with one ear at the door listening for various points in the program.

I finally headed to the roof garden when production halted, to wait until the “Official” Olympic photo came through. There was an army of the MPC volunteers gathered there, glued to the television, hanging on every moment. They erupted into cheers and song when their athletes paraded through.

When the fireworks began, they all raced to the building’s edge, where I was already waiting, to see the celebration.

It was pretty awesome.

Even though I had been a bit jealous of my colleague scoring a ticket, it was fun to just be here among people who were so proud of what their country had done, a feat many thought simply could not be done.

The ceremony lasted until after midnight and was followed by Another Press Conference, so we didn’t leave the MPC until almost 3am, and then had to be back early to get things underway again.

This morning’s greetings of “Kalimera” were a little less energetic than usual, but still heart felt. There were a lot of fellow bleary eyed people around as we all hunkered down for what was sure to be a sprinter’s pace through the next two weeks of events.

Overnight, there seemed to be a transformation in traffic. Yes, it’s Saturday, but traffic has thinned as people have taken to the public transportation to get to the various venues. Having an “Olympic Lane” where only people with Olympic Passes can drive has also helped. Luckily we have one of those passes.

I wandered over to the main Olympic area to get an up close view of the Cauldron myself, and it was a hot and dusty trek. Cranes around the stadium are taking down some of the lights and special effects machines used during the technical side of the Opening Ceremony.

There were only a few fans about, because the big competitions have yet to get started, but the silliness is well underway. We ran into a group from Minnesota, dressed as ancient Greeks, complete with togas and olive leaves, making their way to badminton.

Dressing in togas is not a bad idea, given the heat. There’s no real shade in the common areas and while the main area has a number of fountains, there is not much grass. That has left the wide open areas mostly deserted, while the venues have an appearance of being big desserts with ants crawling around the bottom of them, as fans hug the buildings in their efforts to avoid the sun while moving to and fro.

Sadly, I haven’t seen a lot of US flags around, but there are plenty of Canadians and Australians showing their colors. We’ll see how it develops.

You could tell most people were still coming down from the euphoria of last night, and are now ready to focus their energies on the Games themselves.

People have gone from counting down the days until the Games started – to counting down when the Games end.

Today’s the Big Day. The Opening Ceremony of the Athens 2004 Olympic Games and the excitement around Athens and the Main Press Center has ratcheted up a few notches. It’s a Greek National Holiday (so is the day of Closing), so the streets were pretty deserted this morning as we made our way into the city.

But once inside our building, this place is buzzing with activity.

In addition to newsgathering, people are busy laying plans for viewing and possible attendance of the “Big Event.” But the reality is most of us will be in our little cubbyholes at the MPC working away while others enjoy the spectacle.

For those who missed yesterday’s blog, MPC means “Main Press Center” and working around here is an exercise in acronyms: Next door to the MPC is the IBC run by the AOB and overseen by ATHOC who answers to the IOC. And both are located next to OAKA. Got that?

OK, to help sort out the alphabet maze, the IBC is International Broadcasting Center, AOB is Athens Olympic Broadcasters, ATHOC – Athens Organizing Committee and IOC – International Organizing Committee. OAKA is actually Greek but means “Athens Olympic Sports Complex.”

Today is a day that the NOCs (or National Organizing Committees) are popular because they are the keepers of free media tickets for the journalists from their country. There has been much jockeying for position over at our NOC, the USOC.

Each credential-holder here also has a letter on their ID. For example, “OBS” means observer, “E” is written press, “EP” is photographer, “Rtb” means Rights Holding Broadcaster. My credential is “Ec”, meaning I’m part of the support staff at the MPC.

Our group has snagged a coveted Opening Ceremony ticket and Anthony Stavrinos, a co-worker, will have the honor of being able to see it in person. It’s a reward because he had been at the forefront of the early competition among members of the media to ferret out particulars of the actual ceremony.

It was all very cloak-and-dagger sort of stuff, with phone whispers and late-night visits to our favorite souvlaki stand for clandestine meetings with ceremony participants to ply them with gyros and honey-yogurt desserts to try and get them to talk.

Most stood firm on their vows of secrecy. But Anthony, being Greek- Aussie and adept at the language, worked his sources to find out that the opening ceremony begins with the stadium flooded with water and dancers emerging from the pseudo-Mediterranean Sea.

Of course Tuesday’s dress rehearsal pretty much gave away most of the mystery, and there was broad agreement that it was an amazing combination of technology and artistry. But there are still a few bits of mystery that have yet to be answered, such as just what the caldron looks like and who will light it.

The big news today was the Greek runner Konstantinos Kederis, who was rumored to be the 'anointed one,' is caught up in a controversy over whether he may have used performance-enhancing drugs. The story now is that he was hospitalized this morning after a motorcycle accident which removes him from the Games.

Members of the media who thought they had the whole “Big Finish” figured out are now all in a tizzy about who the replacement will be. The Athens Organizing Committee is just as secretive about their plan “B” as they were about their plan “A” so most people are resigned to just having to wait at this point.

Besides, after tonight, it’s all about the Games and the watching of the Games, so “Let the Games Begin!” Or, if you prefer, “Xekinane I Agones!”

For all of the nay-sayers (and I was one of them) who said it couldn’t be done, well guess what? The Olympics are here and it looks like Athens is ready. I wouldn’t necessarily lean heavily on any of the walls, but it sure looks good.
I’ve been in Greece for four weeks now, and have watched an amazing transformation. When once there was dirt, there is grass. Where there was once a pile of trash, there are trees and flowers.
It’s like the landscaping fairies come out at night and sprinkle the ground with colorful things.
It’s like Christmas every morning. You don’t know what you’ll find beneath the Olympic Rings today.
The streets have gone from relatively deserted, dusty stretches of asphalt to newly-painted stretches, adorned with colorful Olympic banners, teeming with journalists, clamoring to get that one picture angle of the Acropolis that has not been taken or the one story that has not been told.
My home away from home these days is something we fondly call the MPC – the Main Press Center.

(Last night the shade fairies came and put up tents outside the MPC so you didn't have to stand in the sun to go through the security check.)
The complex is right next to the main Olympic sporting complex where the stadium is located, and consists of a labyrinth of floors and halls spread out over three buildings. It houses more than 5,000 journalists from around the world.

Some have offices.
Some have not.
ALL have deadlines and any given hour there is a press conference somewhere on some floor; the importance of which can be gauged by the throngs in the hallways, looking at the maps on the wall with dazed and confused expressions on their faces.
It’s a little funny to see someone from Japan, trying to ask someone from Brazil where to go, being interrupted by someone from Spain and their common language is actually English.
Greek, is well, Greek to us. And unfortunately for many of the volunteers, English is Greek to them.
It’s a good thing most of us arrived early, because it was not unusual in the early days to walk up to the Transportation Desk and ask something easy like "When does the next bus to Syntagma Square leave?", only to be met with a blank stare, followed by a look of panic, a shy smile and a motion of “one moment please,” while they hurriedly dialed a phone number and handed you the receiver to speak with someone else.
In fact, even the signs are a bit challenged at times. On the back roads of the OAKA, the main Olympic area, where buses drop off volunteers, athletes and journalists, there is a bright orange directional sign, pointing all to the “DOPPING Center.”
Mention it to anyone at the Organizing Committee and they just smile sheepishly and shrug.
What? It’s enough that we have the Doping Center, you also expect the name to be spelled correctly? You ARE demanding, aren’t you?
A detail like that just doesn’t seem to matter anymore. We’re on the eve of the Athens Olympics and as far as most Greeks are concerned, “Ola ine kala.”
All is good.