Each Olympic Games aspires to be the best ever. Beijing's was not, but it was the biggest ever. The scale was unfathomably vast: big concepts, big technologies, big stadiums, big operation, big efficiency, big deployment. No detail spared or overlooked. Four around-the-clock attendants waited at every toilet in the main press centre. Gardeners appeared at midnight to weed the intricately patterned flowerbeds by the freeway.
The city itself is improbably big, with its long, wide, flat, straight roads, lined by tall buildings, many grandly stretching off into infinity. A newcomer at the Games was put in mind of a Jacques Tati movie: around every new corner the view was the same. Those with Western sensibilities were liable to feel small and lost.
And the army was everywhere, soldiers standing either rigidly and unblinkingly to attention on street corners or marching in small detachments. Any body of people in uniform moved about in single file, even cleaners. But the numbers and the formalities reduced in the second week as everyone grew weary; this, too, is characteristic of the Games.
By and large, West and East were ships passing in the Beijing night. Culture and language were barriers to familiarity. But the volunteer army was exclusively young, fluent in English, and unfailingly and cheerfully helpful. As at most Olympics, they were the lubrication. The notion of a no-fun Games could only have been a construct brought by those determined not to have fun.
Although constant, the security system was not nearly as oppressive as that felt at other world events. The most officious person I met in Beijing was a jobsworth with the American rights-holding broadcaster, who threatened me with punishments Maoist China never imagined. Another of her type yesterday prevented a Spanish marathoner from greeting his girlfriend at the race's end.
It is doubtful that Olympic visitors saw the real Beijing, any more than they saw the real Athens or the real Sydney (remember how the trains were plentiful and ran unerringly on time?) An Olympic city tarts itself up. Resident correspondents reported the Beijing streets were emptier and cleaner than usual, but in regional Qingdao, the venue for the sailing, bustle and chaos were as great as ever.
Critical Australians should be wary of an enclosing glasshouse. So China faked effects, bussed in crowds and made up numbers; how does that differ from Melbourne's grand prix? So the support was sometimes choreographed; as opposed to the work of the Fanatics? Chinese crowds were no more nationalistic than Australians.
But Beijing could not hide everything, any more than Beijingers could contain their curiosity. The attitude of Olympic authorities to Western media was problematic; essentially, it was mind your own business. The English-language press was as toothless as its reputation, either glowing in its praise of everything Olympian or leaping indignantly to defend the Chinese against a People's Liberation Army-sized phalanx of straw men.
But propaganda, no matter how finely spun, cannot hide its essential deceit. One day, the China Daily thumped its tub about how wrong the West had been in its concerns about pollution. Presumably, the editorial writer had not set foot outside the paper's air-conditioned HQ.
Ultimately, the Olympics are a sports carnival. Ultimately, they will be remembered for what happened, not where. In this, Beijing will be well served. The prodigious feats of Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt, as big as the Games themselves, will ensure that Beijing 2008 becomes a byword in sports history. About 50 world records were broken, excluding the one for supplies of bottled water; it never ran out.
The Games are also a celebration of the obscure, the arcane, the sport and the sportsperson who was unknown yesterday and will be dimly remembered tomorrow but momentarily became a hero to his/her nation. It is their strength, not their weakness.
We were reminded of the age-old relativity of trash and treasure. People clustered breathlessly around television sets to watch badminton, diving, judo, taekwando and table tennis.
Australia finds itself at a crossroads in its illustrious Olympic history. The medallists kept the romance alive, none more so than hyperventilating pole vaulter Steve Hooker. Even after the almost complete collapse of the cycling team, Australia won almost as many medals as predicted, to slip two places in the standings, behind Great Britain and Germany, as predicted.
The questions now are this: How important is it to our national psyche to recover those places?
And what price are we prepared to pay? All Olympic sport is now professional, so there is a linear link between funding and success. Exact figures are hard to extrapolate because sponsorship of athletes comes from several sources - government, corporate and private - and at different times in the Olympic cycle. But it is probable that Britain spent about twice as much per athlete than Australia did. This was in anticipation of London 2012, just as Australia spent lavishly in anticipation of Sydney 2000. More money has been pledged in Australia, but even more has been sought.
Questions should also be asked about the lack of sophistication of the funding model. Essentially, it is money-for-medals, which is great for swimming, for instance, but threatens to send cycling, a sport always dear to Australia's heart, into a vicious spiral.
Drugs did not become a big problem in Beijing. But while contemplating that plethora of world records, the most prudent conclusion might be simply to say: watch this space.
Instances of poor sportsmanship were remarkable for their rarity. The Olympic spirit is easy to mock from afar, but it is palpable to all who come near it. It should not be confused with the high-blown rhetoric from the International Olympic Committee about how the Games will change the world. Darfur is today as it was a fortnight ago, and as it was when Steven Spielberg chose to boycott these Games in February.
The legacy of this Olympiad for China is not for a fleeting visitor to assess. But the legacy for the Olympic movement is plain.
A benchmark for competence has been set; everything else is a matter of taste. Officials from the four cities bidding for 2016 - Rio de Janeiro, Tokyo, Madrid and Chicago - all said they had been humbled and inspired (the tip, incidentally, is Chicago).
"Govern a great country as you would cook a small fish," Confucius said. By that he meant govern gently so that you get it just right. China's Communist Party chiefs might yet take cooking lessons from its Olympic chiefs.
Email a friend
Favourites
Del.icio.us
Facebook
Digg
StumbleUpon
MySpace
Reddit
Newsvine
LinkedIn
Kwoff
Twitter