by Susan Stafford-Pooley
Today was cross-country day – a day that tests the endurance, fitness, stamina and courage of journalists and photogs alike … oh, and horses and riders too. Let’s not forget them.
The course was sprawling and very hilly (and far from the media centre), which necessitated a lot of walking uphill and down, but mostly uphill (much like Bromont). It was very difficult, with a lot of mayhem during the first few rides, with refusals and run-outs and falls and near-catastrophies. Once word got back to the warm up ring as to how the course was riding, things settled down a bit. Although one unfortunate Irish rider had a heart-stopping crash early on, there were no apparent serious injuries throughout the day.
While there were supporters from every nation, the most vocal (no surprise) were the Brazilians, who went bananas whenever one of their riders left the start box. And there was beer – lots of beer in pretty little carts – and that is always a great draw to get reluctant non-horsey husbands and boyfriends out on the course.
I am not going to go into any more detail about the competition itself, because you can read full coverage here.
What I do want to talk about is life in general for us here:
Housing
The media village is a strange beast. Each apartment has 3 bedrooms, and there are 3 bathrooms. There is a common living room, balcony, kitchen and laundry area with a wash sink and a drying rack to hang your unmentionables. Everyone gets 3 keys: one each for the main door, bathroom and bedroom. Now here comes the fun part: all the keys open all the doors, and you have no idea who your roommates are until you happen to run into them, usually at 5 am or 10 pm, depending on work schedules. I am rooming with three lovely Irish gentlemen who are all photographers (yes, if you do the math it should only be 2; it’s a long story). Anyway, they are super guys who are very polite and work very hard. I thought going to one venue in a day was a big deal – these guys go to as many as 10 a day to shoot whatever sport. They must also go through security checks 10 times a day, which must be a pain.
I am impressed by the work ethic here. It is relatively quiet here at night. People are on the bus at dawn and work late to meet deadlines. This is not a holiday.
Security
Even with a very strong military presence and thousands of friendly volunteers telling you nicely that sinto muito you don’t have the right pass for this gate, there have still been lots of problems. There are tales of gear being stolen from teams, computers and clothing from athletes. A Greek official reportedly had $11,000 worth of electronics equipment stolen from a plush Rio hotel. Two Australian rowing coaches were robbed at knifepoint, And in our equestrian family, a photographer had a very valuable camera stolen off a media shuttle, which is only supposed to be used by accredited media, but nobody checks at the door .
Personally, I am divided between wanting to keep everything with me – money, credit cards, passport – and keeping some in my room. There is a small safe but I can easily lift it, so it could just be carted out. My attitude is, if I still have all my stuff at the end of the day, it’s been a good day.
Safety
As I write this there are gunshots which sound very close. After being here a few days you are quite certain that what you are hearing is actually gunfire and not fireworks or cars backfiring. Seeing guns in the street is quite commonplace now. This, however, shot on the bus on the way to eventing this morning, of a random soldier standing on top of a truck, was a bit impressive:
Tuck Shop
There is a strange little store in the media village that sells an odd assortment of goods at horrifically inflated prices, everything from mouthwash to frozen pizza to booze to toilet paper (a necessity, as there is never any in the bathrooms here). They do a brisk business, though; everyone is to nervous to leave the gated property to find a supermarket for fear of being robbed. It’s a win-win for the shopkeeper, for sure.
Weather
It has been a lot hotter than I was expecting – in the 30s C most days, sunny and humid. I had been hoping for a bit of respite from the brutal heat in Ontario this summer, especially seeing as it is the dead of winter here. It does get dark by 5:30, which is a bit disorienting.
Money
The Brazilian real is worth about 40 cents Canadian. Everything I buy seems to cost 50 reals. Dinner at the media village restaurant? 50 reals. An Olympic hat? 50 reals. Pizza? 50 reals.
Food
I am disappointed that the food at the venue and here at the media village is generally meh. The plan is to venture out and find some bona fide Brazilian churrascarias (BBQ) somewhere. I hear they deliver giant slabs of meat to your table, hot off the grill, which certainly sounds a lot more appetizing than the brown mystery meat in goo sauce they serve here at the commissary. Stay tuned….
