so what.

I’m doing what every blogger in the planet has done this week. I am writing an Olympic post.

People often talked about how China was more concerned about saving face than actually being part of the history of the Games. Why wouldn’t they? Foreigners suddenly invade a country that’s isolated itself for the most part of the last millenium (they even put up a wall, for goddness’ sake). Athletes worried about the thick smog and the quality of living as they arrive in conspicucous medical masks.  But then to cope up, China built a new airport terminal, reduced fifty percent of their land traffic, shut down factories in the city, conquered an architectural feat by erecting the Bird’s Nest and had their cab drivers learn English. However, the international press still felt constricted with the controversial firewall that would never be entirely lifted.They attempted to make the world’s greatest fireworks display in a densely populated, smog-covered city for the international audience; and the world still makes a fuss about the computer generated bit of it. A cute kid sings their national hymn with a big smile and the everyone keeps busy making an issue of the lip-synching.

So what if they’re saving face? At least they’re winning medals. We send what, fifteen Olympians, and some of them are not even true-blooded Pinoys? Sure, Phelps will always set records and the Dream Team will always hoard points; but we spent our taxes for our athletes to play in this momentous sports event (and for Manny to wave our flag in a backdrop of blue barongs). We don’t swim, fight or punch but we care, dammit.

Funny thought: I just realized that I actually weighed heavier than our gold medal pambato in boxing. Payat niya no? (Or it could go: Taba ko no?) Lol.

But then let’s go over the impressive ones… the ones who’ll get 10, 000 hits on Google just from busy bloggers. If the Games are really named after Mt. Olympus like I assume it is, then I say Michael Phelps is an Olympic god. And weightlifting’s Liu Chunhong is some sort of demigoddess- oh, how she made setting records look so easy. You know, Yao Ming used to give me the creeps. Asian guy standing over seven feet with a strong square-ish face… why won’t I find him creepy? Even my tall cousins used to scare me. But Yao Ming, recently, surprisingly impressed me. So what if he’s got injured knees, broken feet and an infected toe? So what if he’s all tired and burned out? So what if he missed seven of his ten shots? He played majestically; like nothing else mattered more than that orange ball and the pride of his country. So take a breather, big guy… while we patiently hope for a gold and China continues to battle with rival US for that number 1 spot.

Another thing. Because of the Beijing 2008 games, my dream destination- The Forbidden City- has been much more devirginized.