Lost in Translation

Beijing, the Water Cube-It has been a whirlwind since I arrived in Beijing almost 4 days ago. I wasn't sure if I was suffering jetlag or it was just the smog, but I've been lightheaded the whole time. It could also be the ridiculous swimming I'm privileged to watch here each day at the Water Cube, which sends goose-bumps up my whole body. In my 18 years of competitive swimming, I have never seen a race like the men's 4x100 free this morning. Jason L. shot himself to god-like status with that effort. I was shaking with such excitement; I could barely type for the next hour. Unlike many of the other journos here in the press tribunes, I am unabashedly biased and will let my emotions go when I see something like that. It was awesome.

Sadly, I'm not kidding about the smog…it is actually in the pool too. Yesterday it rained so today you could actually see about 200 metres in front of you and the haze inside the Water Cube had lifted, but the first 2 days was pretty depressing. I have yet to wear the mask I bought at Duane Reade (that is made in China), but if things don't clear up my lungs might force my hand.

The pool is right in the heart of the Olympic Green, and the stadium, a.k.a. the Bird's Nest, is as breathtaking as the Water Cube is unique. The only problem with the pool is that once inside you can't really see the bubbles unless you are in the pool. It is a special treat just for backstrokers.

There are way too many volunteers and workers here. I can't walk 5 metres without someone saying "Ni Hao" and jumping on me to examine my accreditation. It is very easy for me (while suffering from sleep deprivation) to get highly irritated by this and it's taking everything I have to try to be nice. I mean they are only doing their jobs, but it is already my most unfavourite visible effect of the Communist system. Too many workers, too few things to do.

And that's just the volunteers. There are at least 6 different types of security personnel here. The army guys in full camo, even have camouflage high top sneakers. Mona, I will try to trade a pair and bring them back for you. Other guards wear little white gloves when they search through my bag and make me drink the water in my bottle.

Of course, everyone is extremely lovely here. And if they can, they are ready and willing to help. The only problem is that I don't speak Chinese and they don't speak English. Sign language is my new form of "communication," a term I use very lightly. Picture me miming "where is the toilet?" and you will start to get an idea of my life here.

I must go watch swimming now, but I will end with my favourite Chinese-ism that comes from my hotel bathroom shower door: "Pays attention to the stair, before the use, invites the shop well turban, thanks." Ten points for anyone who can decipher that one.