The Opening Ceremonies. (Harry How/Getty Images)
Washington Nationals beat writer Chelsea Janes is switch-hitting this February, covering the Winter Olympics for The Post before heading to spring training. She’ll be sharing thoughts and experiences from her “rookie” Games. Her first dispatch is here.
PYEONGCHANG, South Korea — About 7 p.m. Friday in South Korea, my colleague Jerry Brewer made an observation in the jam-packed media workroom at the Olympic Stadium.
“You’re getting antsy,” he said, as I unwrapped a hand warmer, an hour before I would possibly need it. “I can see it in your eyes.”
He was right. I was a little embarrassed to admit it, and surprised that I felt it, but I was excited. If there are three things in the world I do not tolerate well, those things are extreme cold weather (anything under 55 degrees), lactose, and abstract choreography executed by strangely costumed humans conveying an obscure message that requires explanation to discern. Two of those three things were certain to be involved in Friday’s Opening Ceremonies. It was out of character for me to be so eager.
I used to watch the Opening Ceremonies from my couch, chirping at the commentators as they read from scripts revealing hidden meanings. Until Friday, my theory was this: If an Opening Ceremonies — a largely nonverbal experience — requires a lengthy explanation of everything going on, perhaps it should just be a little more self-explanatory in the first place. I didn’t want to attend the Opening Ceremonies because I thought they would move me. I just wanted to experience them — check the box, cross it off.
But as I taped hand warmers to the top and bottom of the first of two pairs of socks, I couldn’t deny it: I was feeling something that bordered on hope and slid dangerously near enthusiasm. I headed out into the cold early and sat alone a few rows up from the floor of the stadium. I couldn’t stop smiling. I wasn’t sure why.
[Opening Ceremonies at PyeongChang Olympics: A unified Korea, big U.S. gloves and an oiled Tongan]
I tried to hold it back. I told myself that no rational human, no one who knows anything about the state of the world, could think the momentary peace of an Opening Ceremonies could really matter in the grand scheme of things. That North Korea was in town and on board amounted to a political maneuver, for one side or the other — or maybe even both — but it didn’t solve anything, really. When the news broke that the two Koreas would march together, I read and heard people warning against drinking the Kool-Aid. Being more of a Tang person, I didn’t want to argue.
But then the ceremony began. I saw a giant, robotic-looking white tiger with its hind quarters turned in my direction, which is not my preferred angle for viewing giant robotic white tigers, but was nevertheless stunning. The music was beautiful. The other robotic-looking animal things were beautiful. The lighting was beautiful. The choreography, which actually made sense once I read my media guide, conveyed a beautiful message of “Peace in Motion.” I felt inspiration creeping in again. Like the cold, I was fighting it off with reality checks. It wasn’t giving in.
To make matters worse, when the United States team swarmed in for the parade of athletes, something inside me swelled with what I can only assume was pride. “Stop that,” I thought. “This won’t heal the divisions,” I remembered. Things got worse when the beat dropped to Korean pop hit “Gangnam Style.” I couldn’t fight off the most disturbing thought of all: “Man, I always loved this song.”
I recovered in time to decide that the true heroes of the evening were the women required to dance to the pounding beats of classic K-pop for the entire 56 minutes and 93 countries that wound around them. And that the truest triumph of the human spirit was the Tongan flag bearer appeasing the masses by going shirtless again, despite the frigid temperatures.
When the Olympic Athletes of Russia marched in colorless suits, it was another reminder not to put all this on too much of a pedestal. When lifelike Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un impersonators were spotted a few feet away, reality crept in again. Before I could see the intentions of the crowds chasing after them, I worried that their rush meant something bad had happened.
대박ㅋㅋㅋ pic.twitter.com/eHQ8g59h87
— 김여울 (Yeo-ul Kim) (@adore13) February 9, 2018
But when I saw the unified Korean team march under one flag — with the President of South Korea, Kim Jong Un’s sister and Vice President Pence sitting literally feet from each other, watching quietly — those good feelings crept back again. When they sang “Imagine” over a dove made of hundreds of tiny lights, I couldn’t talk myself out of it anymore. When I saw a North Korean woman and a South Korean woman deliver the Olympic torch to the top of the stadium together, I stopped trying. Like the cold that was slowly overtaking my extremities, I wouldn’t be able to fight it.
I gave up. I decided I would allow myself a night of naivete, with a goofy smile, looking like someone who fell for it all. For two hours Friday night, two countries with a habit of hating each other pushed pause to participate in a ceremony built entirely around large robotic animals, K-pop and the idea of peace. As a citizen of the world who hopes for better, I can’t help thinking that is good. I’ll get off the Kool-Aid tomorrow. For one night, I’ll enjoy a rookie’s foolish optimism, because two hours of good — however cold and choreographed — feel a whole lot better than none.
Read more Olympics coverage:
Trying to make Team USA look more like America
Meet Chloe Kim, the 17-year-old snowboarder poised to rule the PyeongChang Olympics
What’s it feel like to speed down a luge track? See for yourself.
Figure skater Adam Rippon on coming out: ‘I felt myself owning who I was’
Bobsledder Steven Holcomb left a legacy that resonates among Olympic sliders
Read Again https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/sports/wp/2018/02/09/despite-frigid-temperatures-the-opening-ceremonies-can-warm-your-heart/Bagikan Berita Ini
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