Day Zero: The House of Flying Torch

by Yeoh Siew Hoon

IT was hot. It was muggy. It was crowded. We had to walk for miles. Our Jetset Sports guides got lost. We had to queue for a long time.

We had to go through a few security checkpoints and body searched. By the time we got into the stadium proper, we were hot, bothered, sweaty, thirsty, frazzled …

But all that mattered nought when we looked around and realised we were about to be part of history.

Firstly, the Bird’s Nest looked amazing. Lit up in pink and gold, it looked like it was hatching a giant alien egg. Across, the Water Cube looked like a blue translucent blob you could bounce off.

On the outside, a modern, proud China showing off its new armoury. Inside, a new China, like the world had never seen it, was about to reveal itself.

The stadium was packed. More than 90,000 people from around the world had gathered to watch the much-anticipated opening ceremony, directed by famous Chinese film producer, Zhang Yimou who, incidentally, said this was far more challenging than making one of his films.

“The workload and the difficulties I encountered were 100 times that of my films,” he said.

What he promised was a romantic theme and the use of advanced multimedia technology.

And he did not disappoint. Of course, you could say with the budget he had, a cast of 14,000 and all the might and force of the Chinese machinery behind him, it would have been difficult to fail.

But to just focus on the numbers – as some reports in the Western media have done this morning – would be churlish and taking away from the imagination, creativity and sheer hard work that went into the idea and the execution of the 50-minute performance that went from Chinese history and culture, right up to its ascent to space, and which closed on a note that I think no one could have imagined or predicted.

In a scene that could be taken out of “House of Flying Daggers”, that final lap to light the Olympic flame by Li Ning, gymnast medalist, round the top of the Bird’s Nest, will remain etched in my mind as the most moving and jaw-dropping moment of all.

With each step of his flight, he unfurled a giant Chinese scroll showing images of Olympic athletes and faces and as luck would have it, I was seated right under the giant cauldron where he lit the final flame.

But of course before that moment there were many unforgettable scenes. The 2,008 drummers that opened the show resembled terracotta warriors come to life.

The giant scroll that depicted the Chinese art of calligraphy with dancers acting like strokes of a brush. The recitation from the Analects of Confucius – “isn’t it a pleasure to to study and practice what you have learnt”?

The traditional opera with its rich colours and high drama. The art of taiji against nature. The kids dressed up as stars. British soprano Sarah Brightman standing on a giant lantern singing the theme song, “You and me” with Chinese singer Liu Huan.

There was so much going on it was hard to know where to look. In between I was busy taking photos, shooting videos and answering text messages from friends. “Incredible.” “I love the projections.” “So cutting edge.” “You really there?”

More than one billion people watched it on their television sets at home. They probably saw more of it than we did from our seats but to be there, live, feeling it as well as watching it was once-in-a-lifetime.

I think everyone expected the cast of thousands, the colour, the drama, the flawless execution and that the opening ceremony would be nothing short of spectacular. But what surprised most people were the creativity and the imagination that went into the execution and the emotion it elicited in us.

I swung from wonder and awe to sentimentality and nostalgia to pride and a ridiculous sense of belonging to this one world, one dream.

For a moment there, as the athletes walked out one by one, it seemed possible – 204 nations competing in the spirit of peace and harmony, minus the politics.

Never mind what President George Bush had said prior to his arrival in Beijing about China’s human rights. IOC President Jacques Rogge put him in his place, I thought, with his speech that said that this was a moment for all countries to celebrate, never mind their political systems.

As we left the stadium, we again had to walk for miles and our Jetset Sports tour guides again got lost. But again it mattered nought.

We had been part of history.

Read more of Yeoh Siew Hoon’s Olympic experience at the Transit Cafe – www.the transitcafe.com