Friday night we witnessed the greatest show on earth—high tech style. It was Star Wars, Disney’s It’s a small, small world, and Super Bowl half time hoopla—all magnified 2008 times.

Hercules started it in 776 AD (and a naked Corebus walked off the first gold--er, olive wreath). It is safe to say that not since Hitler used the 1932 Olympics as a coming out party (only to have it crashed by Jesse Owen), has an Olympics carried more import—or been anticipated by so many.

Heroically, China set herself up for colossal failure. For the past eight years, she’s proclaimed to the rest of the world that it is time for her to strut her stuff and take her place as a major player in the 21st century.

Danger lurked. One glitch—one power outage—one acrobat falling on his keester--one ill-timed summer rain storm--and literally millions of man hours and billions of dollars could have gone the way of the runner-pulled rickshaw.

In a Rutherian gesture, Director Zhan Yimou stepped up to the plate—pointed to center field and nonchalantly swatted a walk of grand slanm homer out of the park .

The show opened with 2008 percussion drummers beating lighted drums in an electronic countdown to 8.8.08 (any guesses as to the luckiest number in Chinese numerology?). At precisely 8pm, thee and me were ushered into the modern era.

Using dancers and computerized lights (all politically correct florescent, no doubt) Yimou daftly wove a choreographed tale of “he” (the Chinese character for Harmony) in a not so subtle reminder that Bi Sheng developed moveable type in 1040 almost 400 years before Gutenburg was born.

Harmony, especially with nature, was a big theme that night—and the basis of the Olympic motto: “One World. One Dream.”

Of course, with all the crowds and the inflexibility of a totalitarian regime, for us it was “One World. One Dream. One Line.”

China is fabulous. Totalitarian regimes are interesting. The concept of words matching deeds is somewhat foreign—or at least messy to them.

Subtle hints, indirect references and occasionally outright falsehoods are the coin of the realm. Nothing is but what is not.

Solving pollution by limiting traffic and closing down factories? Not even close. We’ve all got the sore throats and hacking coughs to prove it. We have yet to see blue sky or the sun.

The classic headline in the China Daily was: “Air Fine. Let the Games Begin.”--juxtaposed next to a picture of someone passing the torch. The sky was so murky that you couldn’t see any buildings.

But the foul air couldn’t dampen the feeling of fellowship and joy which permeated the stadium and is everywhere on the streets of Beijing.
High marks to whomever trained the thousands of volunteers.

Your kids and mine should be so polite. The volunteers are accommodating and sport ready smiles. Never do they utter a discouraging word.

Beijing also got a few other things right. The venues are beyond world class. They figured out the toilet dilemma. Their restrooms are pristine. A small funny--all the new porcelain has duct tape over the manufacture’s name—“American Standard.”

With all they got right, there is a feeling that one is in the movie “The Truman Show.” Stray to far ant he bubble will burst.

It’s not quite real. For example, they took us to a Hutong area (an old section of town) which we’d seen last November with the St. Helena Chamber. Only this time it looked like Disney’s Frontier land—no chickens, no garbage, no smells, no homeless—it had been sanitized beyond belief. There wasn’t a piece of litter--except behind gates or doors which had been inadvertently left open—kind of like your kid’s closet when his room is finally cleaned. Certaibn slums are shielded behind colorful billboards.

During the crew races, a large-screen TV followed the boats, with a clear “blue sky” in the background. Video photoshop, anyone?

Some other random observations: In this the country of merchants—little merchandizing at the venues. There wasn’t a souvenir shop at the Opening Ceremonies. There were no booths outside selling shirts, hats, jackets—nada.

Food gave us the giggles. The signs (in English and Mandarin) say “hot dogs, President snack noodles, bread, cake, sausage, crispy rice chips, and biscuits “—but point to almost anything and they laugh. They are out.

Ice is rare. Drinks are warm. Bottled water, fortunately, is plentiful
Security was tight (a tank prevented all busses from their appointed rout the first night), but the first gun I saw was in the Forbidden City—on a cop--in front of the Palace of Peace.

The Olympics are more exhausting for spectators than athletes. Like life, you can’t kiss all the girl and you can’t see all the events.

Celebrity spotting is an Olympic sport. Imagine the Goobs’ surprise when St. Helena’s Sarah Talcot Randt (our Ambassador’s wife and a high school chum of mine) tapped her on the shoulder at the Pearl Market to introduce her to her shopping partner—Laura Bush.

Speaking of whom, on opening night, as the teams march, world leaders are present. Live videos of them are shown after their nation has been announced. Everyone applauded Sarakozy and Putin. There was a rousing cheer for the Italian team. Who doesn’t love Italians?

But the greatest cheer was saved for the American team. And the greatest cheer of a world figure was for a man from Texas—who was there with his father—like so many fathers and sons that night.

The human spirit is indomitable. Folks who live under tyranny can’t help but cheer for men who fight for freedom. aere they just being polite? Or did they know something we're not getting here at home. Either way, it brought tears to our eyes.