TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/080392/08039935.000

Text File | 1993-04-08 | 6KB | 131 lines

                                                                                OLYMPICS, Page 54

1992 SUMMER GAMES

Benvinguts to the Catalan Games!


Barcelona flashes its many stylish differences as the arc of
the opening arrow begins the dazzling five-ring show

By PICO IYER/BARCELONA


    Imagine a proud, serious old man, not without some
gruffness. Imagine that he is a prosperous merchant, having made
enough money, on his own terms, to indulge himself in moments
of whimsy, flashes of dandy vanity. Imagine further that he has
seen empires and invaders come and go. Now, having dusted the
furniture and repainted the house, he throws open the doors to
his elegant old home to reveal . . . a dazzle of tropi-colored
tricks.

    That was a little how it felt as Barcelona, the often
unshaven but designer-crazy capital of Catalonia, set flame to
the Games of the 25th Olympiad. The occasion was a golden
opportunity for presenting the city as a shiny new capital of
a postnational world. It was also a quadrilingual glimpse into
a multicultural future. Music at the celebrations that opened
the Games came from an atlas of names -- Ryuichi Sakamoto,
Angelo Badalamenti (of Twin Peaks fame), Andrew Lloyd Webber;
Placido Domingo was followed by a sea of "living sculptures"
designed by a man from the West Indies. And some of the grandest
cheers of all came as the unfamiliar Lithuanian flag hung over
costumes fashioned by Issey Miyake.

    As soon as the opening ceremonies began, moreover, records
began falling like tenpins: the most nations competing (172),
the most athletes in attendance (almost 11,000, or five times
as many as in the Winter Games), the highest number of
television viewers (a projected 3.5 billion). But numbers did
scant justice to emotions: to the sense of quiet pleasure as one
of the first teams to enter was South Africa, here after a
32-year absence; to the shiver of unease as Iran alone paraded
behind a man, not a woman, bearing its name; to the bewilderment
that met the Unified Team, amid its cacophony of 12 republics'
flags. And when Bosnia-Herzegovina appeared, after an
eleventh-hour entry, people rose spontaneously around the stands
to cheer.

    The most prominent country in the early going, however,
had been one that did not march but made its presence felt at
every turn: independent-minded Catalonia, which is determined
to cast these as the Catalan, not the Spanish, Games. A longtime
enemy of Castile, delighting in a language that Franco had
banned, Barcelona was eager not just to show off its faster,
higher, stronger self -- reconstruction is almost as trendy as
deconstruction here -- but to emphasize its distance from the
Spain of myth, and of Madrid. FREEDOM FOR CATALONIA signs (in
English) were draped from balconies and shoulders, and buttons
and stickers proclaiming Catalonian independence were handed out
even to kids from California. The Catalan flag, four bloodred
fingers on a field of yellow, seemed to be fluttering from every
window -- 28 of them on a single building! -- and not one
Spanish banner was in sight. As the opening arrow approached,
every other shop seemed to be saying benvinguts -- "welcome" in
the new Olympic language of Catalan -- to what was locally known
as the Jocs Olimpics.

    In a deeper sense, though, the weathered, down-to-earth
city seemed too rooted and too various to be greatly
transformed by pervasive Cobi (as the Olympic mascot is called).
Barcelona appeared ready to take over the world, and not the
other way round. In Seville, when the Olympic torch arrived on
its way to the opening ceremonies, crowds flocked into the Plaza
de San Francisco to snap up Cobi dolls, key rings and T shirts,
and catch a flash of history. In Barcelona, by contrast, life
continued as usual. It flows and crests from dawn to dawn here:
sunny Sunday mornings watching the albino gorilla in the zoo;
early evenings in the stained-glass quiet of Santa Maria del
Mar; late, late evenings with thrashing guitars at the
penumbral nightclub KGB. Old women dance stately sardanes in
front of the cathedral, and men in silk ties ride scooters to
the office. Smiling pickpockets filch bank notes from the
wallets of sightseers while placing roses in their hair.

    In the balmy beach-front Olympic Village, as the teams
began arriving, 50 or more Iranians could be seen sitting in
rows in dull beige uniforms, like nothing so much as condemned
POWS, fending off questions about why their team consisted of
40 men and zero women ("Their records are not strong." "Women
are not interested in sports"). On the other side of the room,
Enos Mafokate, the lone black member of South Africa's
equestrian contingent, was red-eyed with exhaustion and
excitement. "For 30 years," he said, "I have dreamed of this.
When they told me I was going to the Games, I could not open my
mouth for three hours. I could not even move my jaw. This is
something I will never forget!"

    Around him, other athletes were pounding away at a Super
Monaco GP video game, driving through a simulated Monte Carlo,
even as the stars of the U.S. basketball team were in the real
Monaco, driving the lane. Their performances were eagerly
anticipated. Along the main promenade of town, the tree-lined
Ramblas, sidewalk artists had already added Magic Johnson's face
to the standard repertoire of Marilyn Monroe and Emperor
Hirohito, and copies of Magic's biography were piling up next
to canine pianists, peep shows and Ecuadorian panpipers.

    Meanwhile, more and more newcomers could be seen trying to
figure out a city where pijamas are desserts and streets have
periods in the middle of their names (Paral.Lel). Journalists
were struggling to work out why three different coins were worth
a peseta (less than a cent) and whether the regal Placa de
Catalunya really was enhanced by an enormous inflatable M & M.
More than a half-century ago, Barcelona, the city of seasoned
oppositionists, had been all set to hold the "People's Games,"
to counter the Hitler Olympics of Berlin. But civil war
interceded. Now, as fireworks lighted up the sky above the
pulsing stadium and competitors consulted Video Tarot screens
in the glittering subway stations, prospects all round seemed
bright enough to bring a confident smile even to the face of a
grizzled old man.