A young lady from the Olympic Village, from the administration of the paid staff, with dark skin and a headscarf, was sitting on a bench next to me, and we just started talking. She said, "If the world were the Olympic Village, it would be a better place."
I had to smile because this thought had already crossed my mind. Would she and I have struck up a conversation so casually if we had coincidentally sat next to each other outside the village? Would we have even shared a bench?
Inside the village, all of this is taken for granted. People of every nationality, skin color, religion, and class—if the latter even exists—sit next to each other and exchange ideas. There is laughter, a lot of smiling, and above all, mutual respect. This is especially noticeable in the canteen, where people from the canteen staff share meals and time with organizers. Everyone treats each other with respect and a smile.
At the request of a lady from security, I supplied her team with coffee. We also got into a conversation, and I mentioned that we volunteers have a coffee fountain, but security personnel have to pay for it. She has my WhatsApp, and sometimes she politely asks if I can get her and her colleagues some coffee, which I gladly do because it ends in a little chat.
In the canteen, I sat across from two young Chinese people who were eating their tagliatelle as if they had been served pre-digested food. Since I’m somewhat familiar with Italian cuisine, I found the egg and cheese-soaked ribbon noodles not bad, just not suitable for the Chinese palate. Here, too, a nice conversation developed about different cuisines, ending with a very warm farewell.
The relationship with the police in and around the village—at least what I’m used to in France—is very relaxed. They are very helpful and up for a joke. My wife was approached by a gendarme asking if she would like to swap one of her volunteer shirts for a military one. The exchange took place in a police van because Marie had to change.
It’s actually harder to stay alone and isolated in the Olympic Village. You’re constantly approached, just like that, and because you know that at worst, someone might ask you for directions but won’t try to sell you something or beg from you, I’m happy to stop. So, a lady from a Mexican camera team asked me where she could get good shots for interviews, and I took her to a spot by the Seine. I spent half the morning with her team, helping to keep pedestrians out of the shot. Nice conversations also developed here, both with the team and the passersby. No one complained about being redirected by me. It sounds trivial, but unfortunately, it’s not in our world.
Being a volunteer can also be fun. Here is my wife’s team in the hockey stadium.
Upon entering the village, I noticed a lady leaning against a lamppost. When I spoke to her, she typed on her phone in English that she wanted to go to the American Samoa house. Unable to speak due to weakness from the heat. A wave to the other side of the street, and another volunteer came by who arranged a vehicle. Quickly, a crowd of people gathered around the lady, who even smiled because she felt the helpfulness of the people. A paramedic was on the scene seconds later, and we took her to the village hospital for a quick check. Would this have happened the same way outside the village?
Briefly, I want to mention the world religions that coexist peacefully in inconspicuous containers at the west entrance, and whose operators spend most of their time together in the shade under the trees. Jews, Muslims, and Christians. Yes, it is possible as long as no power-hungry fool tells people it isn’t, and people, consumed by envy, believe them. It is possible for all people in this world to live together—if the world were the Olympic Village.
The motivational video for my wife, which will be shown to her at kilometer 34 of the marathon. Created in the Olympic Village.
And the Bahamas? I’ve arranged things with the people to the extent that they can send me a message if they need me. I’ll do what I can to fulfill these requests. But I don’t have to spend the whole day running after them like a little dog, waiting for orders, and otherwise being largely ignored. So, I prefer to enjoy the pleasant atmosphere for the remaining time and help where I can. This way, my commitment also has something positive, and I’m looking forward to the Paralympics, where I hope to meet more pleasant team leaders.
