“The IPC is a symbol that is in motion, with three Agitos (from Latin: I move) encircling a center point; emphasizing the role that the IPC has of bringing athletes from all corners of the world together and enabling them to compete.
Paralympic athletes are constantly inspiring and exciting the world with their performances - always moving forward and never giving up.”
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The concluding symbol for me was in the Coca-Cola bottle sitting on a table where hours earlier a vibrant workforce check-in table had been, staffed with volunteers I would later go out to enjoy the closing ceremonies with.
It was a free-for-all for some, grabbing posters and anything else likely headed for the end.
I took some useful things, tape, an official VANOC pre-Games writer’s style guide, lunchmeat and some fruit to last me a few more days.
Some other odds and ends, given away upon arrival in Whistler, was piled in a box.
And then that Coca Cola bottle, warm, sitting on the table. Drinking it on the bus, I thought of this. The Ricoh printer guys next to me on the bus were flying out the next day, happy to go home but left with the impressions of the beauty of the mountains in their minds.
The mass globalization of the world, could it be, in one little bottle, one little blog post, obscured right here in this text?
The giant corporatism of Coca Cola and so much product given away as part of the sponsorship but so much interaction with people from different cultures. Memories both in mind and in little black books.
Priceless handwriting from Australians, Brits, Canadians, Frenchmen, Russians, and Swedes mixed with my own. Names, addresses, “fuzzy feelings of friendship” and all derived from what?
The athletes? The corporations? The IOC or IPC? The human relationships formed at random from rides, glances, dinners and everything just mixes into live reality?
The same journalists who walked past me in the mix zone are here in the Whistler Live! area … the same journalist who gave me his Craft Swedish ski cap is probably out there someplace too, but I can’t miss the green and red of the Belarus broadcasters, I write, but cannot explain, that “all the jackets are on a touch level now.”
“See you in Sochi!” the jackets say.
We lift our glasses “To Smurfs!” and I think about the incident while I was on duty of the president of the Croation IPC delegation falling and spilling coffee on himself, cheerfully wiping off the coffee from his jacket.
As the closing ceremony crowds stream back, the final toast, “To The Stroll!” and Charlie puts it best:
“Olympic colours, exhilarating and moving, profound moments of reflection of the human spirit, indominatable perseverance, achievement, success. Athletes first, handicapped second. What a source of inspiration.”
The last ride home, our final stop in the Paralympic Village at 21:50.
Our driver ends the experience for all of us. “Hoping everyone made new friends, new experiences – it’s what the Olympics are all about – helping each other.”
“Ok, I’ll let you go to sleep now. We’ll meet again, so long, goodnight.”
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