My London 2012 Olympic diary: Day 8

Day 8: A birthday girl and a few high kicks

Our 8^th day at the Olympics would most famously be known as the 10^th August. Yes, this is Alexia’s birthday. Then it would be all (mostly) about her and not at all (almost) about sports.

First thing first, she needed a new pair of shoes and so did I. Then the first trip will be to our former living place, Camden Town. Now we are far away from any Gola shoes reseller, we strangely feel the need to have a pair on our feet while we did not look interested while living right next door to a dozen of their shops… The issue was rapidly fixed in Camden High street.

Then we wandered around the market as we used to a couple of years back. We stopped for her first present which would be the fishes feet spa. She always wanted to try it, this time she will be forced to. These tiny fishes are literally starving for dead skin and are wiping away everything they can from your skin. Passed the first giggles of amusement, she enjoyed the treat at full power while Andrew had fun just watching them swimming around.

Next, she wanted sushi for lunch. Her wish had to become true and we stopped at the nearest “Yo Sushi!” where our other Colombian friend Erika joined us. I told her that her man birthday present was delivered in France and was to large to be tucked in our suitcase for the Games. She will have to wait our return to unpack this one. Nonetheless, the girl needs a present on the day, so she found in a postcard 2 tickets for a West End musical happening the following afternoon. Erika will be the nanny during the show.

Then we decided to have a digestive walk we knew by heart, along the Regent canal westward and off its banks to go across Regent Park lazily. Squirrels, ducks, playground and even sunshine were here to rock our quiet afternoon.

With the evening approaching, it was time to finally talk about sports. We had tickets for the late tae-kwon-do session happening at the now very well known ExCeL Arena. We travelled east and stopped for dinner at the self named “best Caribbean restaurant in London” a few step away from our arrival point. The chicken was spicy as I love it and the rest of the food filling the plate was as delicious. It was just sad to be served in disposable plates and cutlery for a dish paid over £10…

Anyway, we were well stuffed when we entered the tae-kwon-do hall within the ExCeL. We found it hard to reach the buggy parking within the hall, but that was not enough to make us miss the beginning of the evening show. The semi finals and the medal encounters of the men and women heavyweight tae-kwon-do events were taking place.

If the men fights stood up to our expectation of impressive kicks, the women encounters disappointed us for their lack of acrobatics. The later ones were most of the time jumping around evaluating their opponent but not taking any action. On the other hand, males’ fighters did not hesitate much before rushing foot first towards their opponents. High kicks were flying from every Olympian. The Olympic rule states that a punch or a kick to the plastron earns you 1 point, a kick to the head is worth 3 while their returned equivalent are worth respectively 2 and 4 points. We managed to witness what seems to be as much rare as impressive, with an Italian contestant scoring a 3 pointer and having a fantastic returned kick to the head narrowly denied by the judges on his way to a bronze medal.

This evening full of kicks and punches did not alter Andrew’s habits as he spent most of the evening sound asleep tucked against me. On the contrary, this very late finishing session combined with an ever longer trip back home had some exhausting effect on us. We went to bed, knowing that our plan for the next day would have to be modified.

My London 2012 Olympic diary: Day 3

Day 3: Walking around in sunny London and discovering the BBC coverage

The third day begins with a brunch in the city, at the “Giraffe” restaurant selected by Jean-François. On this Sunday I had tickets to see the evening fencing finals in the men's team foil event. But this time, my wife would enjoy it with our fencing friend and I will take care of our baby. Before hand, we had some sightseeing to do.

The weather was exceptionally kind when we left our empty plates behind us, permitting an enjoyable digestive walk through empty streets. The scariest of all the city veins were the ones used earlier in the morning by the ladies running the marathon. Still closed for traffic at the time we walked by, they really made the place look like a post apocalyptic ghost town.

I took advantage of my location to cast an eye on the site I have been working on for my 18 last months in London. The Heron Tower was now fully completed, including an enormous fish tank in the reception lobby and a sushi bar at one of the top levels.

We continued our route and realised quite suddenly that we were just next to the "Club France", the temporary bar opened by the French Olympic committee on the Thames north bank. We walked once past it without noticing any entrance. When we found it in a backstreet, we got disenchanted. There were a hundred metre long queue ahead of closed doors to cope with if you wanted to cheer on Olympians in French atmosphere. We turned our heels on it, being not enough interested to bear the wait.

What we did instead was going to Switzerland. Figuratively. Right across London bridge was located the Swiss House, the red and white nemesis of the Club France. We felt much more welcome here, with an open air bar, a giant screen showing the sporting action, free chocolate tasting and even a climbing wall...

The fact that the biggest star in Swiss sports, Roger Federer, was currently being trashed by Andy Murray in the men's tennis final, did not alter much the atmosphere. After all it was a silver medal he did not have yet in his trophy cabinet.

Later in the afternoon, when the time came to get closer to the Excel arena, we moved away and decided to try a scenic way, using the brand new cable car line linking the docklands and North Greenwich over the Thames. We surely enjoyed the view (for those daring to look through the window) and did not waste any of the few seconds it lasted.

Next, it was time for the men in this family to go back home and leave wife and friend who were getting into the fencing hall.

Once there, I had the chance to discover what the BBC meant by a full digital coverage of the Games. When I arrived home, I noticed that my Italian friend providing me shelter for the week was watching the athletics on the television screen. During the few minutes I needed to take care of my baby boy, I had a few glances at what happened in the living room. And I successively caught sight of a water polo game, some fencing, some volley ball and much more. When I finally settled down, I understood that there were actually 24 BBC sports channels dedicated to the Olympics. Basically, every event was broadcasted live, you just had to choose the one you preferred. You could (and we did) watch the 100m semi-finals and check the evolution of the scores in a few other sports between races, then change to the channel dedicated to the triple jump event and then get back to the fencing...

What a revolution it was for the French TV viewer I was, forced to watch what the programmer decided to put forward (meaning either a French medallist or Usain Bolt) on the single French channel showing the Olympics back home...

The night went like this all the way, moving virtually from an Olympic venue to another as we fancied, until a Jamaican superman decided to bring the whole media attention to him.

Alexia came back home and we quickly went to bed, once again exhausted.

My London 2012 Olympic diary: Day 2

Day 2: The sun rises in the east

Today’s event was leading me back to the Excel centre in order to witness the first rounds of the men’s team epee event in fencing. Wife and kid were resting at home while I woke up early to meet my friend, godfather of my son and keen fencer, before the morning session starts.

On my way out towards the east of the city, trying to get after the sun setting ion the horizon, I realized that London was strangely very quiet. My district line travel from Putney to the east end would not have scared an agoraphobic. I did not meet more than a dozen living souls before stepping in the DLR train. It was around 8 in the morning nonetheless my former London life never got me used to this public transportation emptiness at any time of the day. Apparently the Mayor Johnson scared the Londoners off efficiently.

My fencing expert was awaiting for me on the arrival platform, we then eased past the security checks and made it to our arena an hour before the show was due to start. A few video clips, an orchestra playing movie themes and a guess-whose-flag-is-it game (which one goes between Taipei and Thailand by the way?) kept us busy until the first contestants walked in.

Bizarrely enough, the event started with the quarter final encounters, having only 8 nations registered for it. Not really the idea I had about universality of the sports held during the Games… The room was only partially filled in at the beginning but we already noticed some very interesting neighbours: a nervous epeeist from New Jersey and her very proud American boyfriend, a couple of very shy Russian fans cheering discreetly on their team but also a half dozen of South Korean fans equipped with their mandatory tiny flags and their singing leader. This was already a lot more multicultural than the day before.

The encounters went on under the accurate explanations from my personal expert every time I had a technical question. The break between the quarter final and the semis allowed us to (have a beer and) begin a geopolitical talk of some sort.

In my memory, fencing was almost exclusively a European sport. But today the last four teams fighting for medals were China, South Korea, Russia and the USA. Basically ten years ago these countries (exception made of Russia) did not have enough people practicing fencing at a serious level to register a team for the Olympics. Since the 2008 Games were awarded to Beijing, Chinese institutions set up a scheme to be represented and competitive in every single Olympic event. South Korea and the USA followed their lead and were already rewarded. Countries fencing for over a century had been wiped off the charts by others learning it in less than a tenth of this time.

The outcome of the semi finals would reinforce our thesis as the gold medal would finally be decided between the two Asian countries.

My daily Olympic event was now over, it was mid afternoon, and we decided to try our luck at the Olympic Park and have a taste of the real deal. Arrived in Stratford, we followed the mass of people being lead like cattle towards the entrance. Then we realised that there was no possible entry to the park without a ticket for an event happening on the same day within the park. Too bad for my mate who won't have another chance (I will...).

In despair, we walked away, across Victoria park (met along the way Fabrice Boraschi, the most famous Frenchman in London with his family), picked up my wife and son to finally reach Broadway market where friends joined us for a traditional Belgian beers stop followed by the most amazing Argentinean steakhouse in town. And then the curtain was down on my second Olympic day.

My London 2012 Olympic diary: Day 1

Day 1: British organization, British cluelessness and French madness

We landed, we collected our luggage, we commuted to our West London house for the week, we dropped our bags, we travelled to our first Olympic venue, we had lunch in the tube, we are there, we are at the Olympics.

The London Excel centre in the Docklands is normally a conference house. During the Olympic fortnight, it turned into the second biggest sports place behind the main Olympic park. Judo, taekwondo, table tennis, boxing, fencing, weightlifting and wrestling were happening there.

Our first date is with the heavyweight judokas, and their most famous face in the name of Teddy Riner. The youngster, aged, is already a  5 times world champion and did not lose a single official fight since the Beijing Games in 2008. He was a firm favorite for gold and French fans knew it. Along the runaway leading to the sports halls, you could count as many tricolore flags than the cumulated amount for all other nations.

Walking along this path, one couldn’t miss the omnipresence of the Games staff. Hundreds of smiling volunteers were ready to share your Olympic spirit. The security checks were also of the highest standard, better than in any international airport I traveled through. The fast lane dedicated to the disabled and babies was a certain plus for us. A few smiles later from the volunteers and we were inside the arena.

A fight just started before we reached our seats. A first sudden crowd reaction made my 8 months old son instantly cry. He was then swiftly equipped with a noise reduction site helmet that my caring wife asked me to buy before we left home. Tears were easily wiped away from his face and quickly replaced by a delighted smile at the sight of all these colors and people without the noisy part. Seconds later he fell asleep and enjoyed a long nap.

Colorful it was for sure as a major part of the attendance was painted in blue, white and red mainly in order to cheer on the French fighter but also helped by some curious GB fans.

Curious is the most polite I could tell about them. I already knew that there is not a big attraction between British citizens and martial arts (yeah, those sports were not invented in the UK). So when in the second fight of the afternoon a team GB woman tried to make her way towards a medal winning encounter, I was not so surprised to hear the local people in the stands only react when the score was adjusted on the screens.

They clearly did not have a clue about what was happening on the tatami, unable to understand the movements executed by the fighters or even the referee’s hand gestures. The funniest part of it is that it could take up to ten seconds for the score on the screens to be updated, making us feel like there was a long delay between what we could see and hear.

Shortly after that came the French giant for his semi-final fight. That was exactly when I had my first tears of the Olympics. That was also the moment I realized there was far more than 50% of French fans into the room!

The atmosphere was unrealistic, way more enthusiastic than in any football stadium I ever visited. I guess the fact that the venue was relatively small and closed amplified the noisy feeling.

The Frenchman made it comfortably to his first Olympic final, extending a little bit the cheering time.

Following a break, came the bronze medal encounters and with one of them came (again) water to my eyes. Together with the non French part of the attendance, I got emotional for a rare judo medal obtained by a British athlete. She had very messy hair but fought hard and deserved her giant bronze coin.

While I was still carrying my sleeping baby, I had just enough time to dry up my eyeballs before they got flooded for the third time in the dying seconds of the men’s final. Only after the final buzz did the giant collapsed. Following his surprising exit in the previous Olympics, Riner set himself a 4 years deal: training over and over again until he could bite this gold medal. Biting he did a few minutes later, congratulated by French IOC and judo federation members (who both bet on a French win to be appointed here).

I could then enjoy my first ever Olympic “Marseillaise”. Despite being my national anthem, I must say I hate its lyrics, but couldn’t avoid singing along this time round with my wife and my son (who just woke up smiling by the way).

A few minutes later, the cheering and applause were interrupted by the venue voice telling us we could all get out of here now.

We needed some time to get the overexcitement down and take care of our baby before we made our way towards the long travel back home.

At the end of my first Olympic day, I was mentally exhausted with the surprising rushes of emotions hitting me harder than expected. I finally fell asleep wondering how many times would I cry before the end of the Games…