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.