Living in Sydney in the noughties: Part 2

Right, so back to the 2000 Sydney Olympics. I was so delighted to be chosen to be a volunteer. My grandfather had represented Australia in the rowing at the 1948 London Olympics - this was the closest I'd get to having an Olympic experience! As the preparations started, my excitement mounted. I was fitted for my fetching uniform (now safely stored away for the children to have a giggle over and the jacket not worn since, which is more than I can say for some volunteers), had TAFE training and was given a free travel pass. Here I am, resplendent in all my (ahem!) glory.

All kitted out (and in yellow, no less, my least favourite colour)

Remember the thrill of watching the Opening Ceremony? I'm sure most of you could remember where you watched it. Having missed out in the ballot for tickets, like so many others, we attended an Olympic dress-up party with friends and cheered on Cathy Freeman lustily. Who could ever forget this moment?

Lighting the cauldron

Then the fun started. I was assigned to work in 'Spectator Services' at the Sydney Convention Centre at Darling Harbour where the boxing, weightlifting, fencing, judo and taekwondo took place. Each day, we were assigned different tasks such as assisting with the security checks (so basic in those pre-September 11 days), collecting tickets at the doors, roving around Tumbalong Park directing people to the venues, checking media accreditation before journalists entered the media hub and manning entrances to the competition areas.

I found the latter most challenging and even confronting. You see, I am a shorty (only 155 cm). When I was looking at the navel of a sweaty boxer with bloodied bandages on his hands who was yelling at me in Turkmen (I only knew because of his accreditation) and wanted to enter a forbidden zone with all his burly entourage, then being short suddenly seemed a problem. Not talking Turkmen was as well! Anyway, using international sign language (my hand held out in a stop sign and much head shaking) did the trick but it was stressful!

They got the message, eventually

They were long, tiring but exhilarating days. I really felt part of something big. Towards the end, some of the volunteers dropped out and the State government used paid State employees as 'volunteers' - it didn't go down well with all those who had donated paid leave to volunteer. Anyway, that minor issue aside, volunteering was a blast. Going to work in between shifts (we had 7 am starts and 3.30 pm finishes) and attending Olympic events, not to mention having my two siblings to stay and entertain, made for a crazy and memorable fortnight.

Enjoying the Closing Ceremony

It was capped off by our being given free tickets for the brilliant Closing Ceremony and the fabulous tickertape parade through the city streets. The latter was absolutely thrilling as we marched through the streets with Sydneysiders waving thank you posters and yelling out praise as the tickertape rained down on us from the offices above.

Yes, that's me!

The crowd was so warm and welcoming that I had goosebumps.

And thank you back!

There's not much left in the city of Sydney to remind us of the Games now. Most of the painted electric blue marathon line has been painted over as cyclists were slipping on it in the rain. The three striking wire mascots atop the Centrepoint Tower have been moved to Sydney Olympic Park. There's a sculpture at Darling Harbour and that's about it, which is a great shame, not to mention that the trains no longer run on time. Of course, Sydney Olympic Park has many permanent reminders including poles with the volunteers' names. It's fun to show my name to the pixies!

Next, I'll conclude this little series of musings on life in Sydney in the noughties.

Jane