My Olympic Experience

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Attending the Olympics is a pursuit both aggravating and exhilarating. This paradox characterized my experience of the games. There will always be more exciting events to attend, but that does not diminish the intense allure of the biggest party in the world, whether or not there is anything to enjoy in it. The Vancouver Olympic events both sporting and cultural were characterized by agonizingly long lines, hyper-dense crowds, and expensive, often unobtainable tickets. While the list of free activities offered in the lower mainland warranted its own guidebook, those partaking in these events deserved a gold medal in waiting. Regardless of ennui in waiting, there was an undeniable excitement and fervor in the air. The streets of Vancouver were filled with national pride. Everyone was adorned in red and white and reeked of booze. With no where to go, nothing todo, the crowd took to chanting, ‘high fiving’, and forming a directionless swaggering march through the streets. While I had an excellent time partaking in the patriotic, near jingoist marching, the real highlights of my Olympic experience came from the observations of others. Media coverage of the Olympics was ubiquitous. Asides from the standard coverage of sporting and cultural events, there was coverage of absolutely everything that happened in the lower mainland. Both accredited, unaccredited and amateur media asked and answered everything to do with the Olympics. Everyday I would scour the internet, finding nuanced reporting and analysis of the games. The high definition live television coverage of the games gave me front row seats that others paid hundreds or thousands of dollars for. My Olympic experience was then two part, my adventures in the circus and my exploratio...

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...bie, where I saw an act of altruism and generosity. A Sikh community was handing out what smelt like a delicious curry and juice to anyone who wanted. The duality of despair and generosity was ever present in the Downtown East Side that day.

Having been thoroughly depressed by my observations, I decided to get back to the Olympic Spirit. I met some friends at a bar in Yaletown to watch the Canada vs. Switzerland game. Our seats were in the back of the bar, with a partially obstructed view of a tiny television, but that did not dissuade our enthusiasm towards the game. The bar was filled with excitement, people were cheering with drunken fervor. The beer was expensive, the television was small, all the while the excitement was invigorating. Following Canada’s narrow overtime victory, the patrons of the bar cleared out and filled the streets in celebration.

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