Nose Plugs Not Included

I toured a composting facility. Voluntarily.

I made the decision during my third and final week in Whistler, B.C. Since my internship at the 2010 Vancouver Olympic Games was with Cleanevent ― the company contracted to handle snow, cleaning, and waste removal at the mountain venues ― I deemed it only appropriate to educate myself to the greatest extent possible about the journey undertaken by the immense volume of waste generated at an event as substantial as the Olympics. 

When I arrived at the Whistler Compost Facility I was under the impression that a tour had been prearranged for me by one of the Cleanevent managers. Although that turned out not to be the case, I was received warmly by Patrick Mulholland, the Compost Operations Manager, and immediately shown around anyhow.

Prior to committing to the site visit I had been warned by Cleanevent staff that “it smells really bad”. Apparently that is Australian for “you have never smelt a stronger, more foul odor in your life”. Upon entering into the compound, my senses were flooded by the aroma of baking biosolids and fermenting food waste. I tried to cough the smell out of my nose and lungs, but it stuck like the stench of a skunk’s spray on the hottest day of the year, so I sealed my nostrils tightly closed like a camel and resolved to breath solely through my mouth for the duration of the tour. The scent alone was enough to make me never want to generate any sort of waste ever again.

Pre-composted material, a mixture of food and biological waste, plus wood chips

 The facility was opened in December of 2008 at a cost of $1.5 million to accommodate the compostable material produced by the town of Whistler, and had since contracted with the Vancouver Olympic Committee (VANOC) to receive their waste, as well. Also on the property is the Whistler Transfer Station, which collects items such as untreated wood, metal, tires, and drywall for recycling.

Patrick began our tour by explaining the special compost recipe they have been developing since the facility became operational; he spoke with complete ease and expertise, demonstrating that he was a true scientist and not just the friendly neighborhood trash collector. The proportions of the compost mixture have had to be readjusted and tweaked to produce the best results, but they currently stand at a ratio of 2,300 pounds of biosolids to 1,000 pounds of food waste to 3,000 – 5,000 pounds of wood chips. The correct balance is necessary in order to control the moisture, which needs to be at levels of 60% or below.

Another important factor to control before the process begins is the purity of the substances. Patrick explained that the compostable waste arriving from VANOC is considerably contaminated, and about 20% must be thrown out as garbage and enter the landfill instead. He showed me the section of the conveyer belt at which one of his employees must stand elbow-deep in waste, hand-picking out as much garbage as he can while it slides past. It was not in operation at the time of my visit, but I glanced around at the strapping young men buzzing busily about the complex and couldn’t help but wonder who the unlucky fellow was that got stuck on filter duty the most.

I had seen first-hand the waste management system employed by VANOC. They were not simply placing trash cans throughout the venues, but rather a small army of receptacles were clustered at each station consisting of: two compostable bins, clearly marked with green lids and a graphic illustrating what items qualified as compostable; one black bin for general waste, also labeled with a picture; and a Coke recycling barrel with a red lid whose opening was only big enough to fit a plastic bottle.

Early on, as the VANOC waste began to be collected and analyzed, the data showed that contamination was still high and that only about half of the waste was being diverted from landfills, rather than the goal of 85%. In an attempt to dummy-proof the system even more, Cleanevent employees at each venue created bigger signs, onto which they taped the actual items that belonged in each receptacle, making it even clearer that all the utensils, plates, and cups could in fact be composted, and that plastic wrappers could not.

Dummy-proof sign developed by Cleanevent staff

 Even our best efforts, however, could not save that poor soul from the purification process. After the contaminating garbage is picked out and a giant magnet removes metal objects, the conveyor belt dumps the waste  into a tray that holds about 8,000 pounds. The plant processes roughly fourteen to sixteen of these trays daily, taking them into a 265 foot tunnel where they are first held for three days at a temperature of 70°C to kill all pathogens and bugs.

The composting material continues to move slowly through the tunnels for a full fourteen days, while the crew monitors the temperature with probes and ensures proper ventilation. It is essential that enough oxygen can flow through so that CO2 is generated, not methane gas as is produced by landfills. At the midway point in the process, spinners break up the waste so that it does not become too compacted.

At the end of the two weeks all traces of that horrid, rotten smell have fled the compost and a clean, earthy odor has taken up residence in its place. The output is blended with sand to drain some excess moisture, and can then be sold as soil.

Although the selling of the soil allows for some cost-recovery, the facility is by no means self-sustaining. Just as utilities, the capital expenditure is huge for an operation like this. The revenue from soil sales, even along with the dumping fees and the average of $1,000 per week from tin can returns, can hardly make a dent in the costs of operations. The municipality recognizes the environmental benefit of diverting this waste from landfills, however, and that alliance permits the project to continue.

Though my employment foray in the waste industry was brief, the educational component was invaluable. I now recycle even more aggressively than before, and plan to have my own composting system once I have a housing situation that allows for it. I am also taking a pledge to support legislation that advocates for sustainable waste treatment. After all, there are a crew of guys in Whistler who tolerate a sickening stench day in and day out just to do their part in helping our Earth. Are you going to spit in their coffee?

Native Roots

Roots ground us, giving us nourishment and stability, but they also reach out and connect us to our neighbors in such a deep and subtle way that the relationship may very easily go unnoticed. The Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Center was designed with the express purpose of recognizing, celebrating, and teaching about two tribes of First Nations peoples whose roots intertwine deep in the history of Whistler, British Columbia. It is a testament to their arts, their shared heritage, and their cooperative future. In their words, it is a place “where rivers, mountains and people meet”.

The Great Hall of the SLCC was inspired by a Squamish Longhouse. Its open feel is enhanced by the natural light streaming in through its wall of windows and by its lofty ceilings that mimic the tall cedar trees of the local forest. The staff is soft-spoken and serene, but remarkably hospitable. Although during the Olympics the admission fee was lifted for all visitors, I made a donation of the student price anyway which, looking back, surprises me slightly; at nearly every other establishment in Whistler, my friends and I would ask if we were entitled to any sort of discount with our official Olympic accreditation. Here, however, I chose to pay the full price normally expected of me. Before I even realized it, some of the honor and respect intrinsic to these peoples had been transferred to me, compelling me to share it back with them.

Museum map in hand, I delve into reading every word of every portion of the exhibits. I am thankful for my solitude ― I love working my way slowly and methodically through museums, so as not to overlook any interesting tidbits. I had not progressed very far from inside the large wooden doors when Martina, the beautiful young Lil’wat who had greeted me upon entry, came over to invite me into the storytelling performance taking place in the SLCC’s auditorium. I was touched by her thoughtfulness, and overly impressed when she proceeded to hold the door for me so that I had enough light to find a seat. 

The storyteller wore all black, and the stage was unadorned with scenery or props aside from a single chair. She first introduced each story, then both narrated and provided voices to each character, acting out bears wrestling and siblings fighting. Each story had a moral, of course, and animals were used metaphorically to engage the children in the lessons. She was not overly theatrical, yet the energy she put into the performance was evident. 

I emerged from the theater to return to my careful inspection of each display, and learned about the aboriginal carving tradition. Carving has been at the heart of Squamish and Lil’wat culture since their creation, and those who excel at the art are held in high esteem within their communities. As with everything about native cultures, carving relates to all aspects of tribal life. Their language and stories are engraved into wood to be passed down to the generations to come. Canoes, which contribute to the tribes’ sustenance, are themselves hollowed by carvers and then ornamented with symbols representing their values. Two large wooden weaving whorls stand guard in the great hall: one bearing a human face and welcoming arms, to represent the native people welcoming all visitors; the other depicting a legendary two-headed snake, slain by the Squamish hero Xwecht’aál. As Jodie Broomfield, from the Squamish Nation, says, “it’s all connected spiritually, mentally, physically”.

When Xwecht'aál defeated the serpent, he took a bone from it that gave him healing powers.

My leisurely pace caused me to still be in the vicinity of the theater when the fifteen-minute documentary Where Rivers, Mountain and People Meet was scheduled to begin. Martina approached me once more and in her quiet manner invited me in to watch, also informing me that a tour of the building would take place after. Again she held the door for me, a humble smile on her face as I thanked her and found my seat.

Our tour guide, Bill, met us outside the theater. He wore the same shy grin as the women at the admissions desk, and its placement on his round face was cherubic. Though his red button-down shirt was not traditional aboriginal clothing, a small woven cedar bark hat perched atop his head, and his proud posture carried it as if it were a bird’s nest laden with eggs. His dark eyes twinkled like those of a wise grandfather, and he shuffled around carrying a weight indicative of some plentiful harvests in recent years. I liked him immediately.

Bill escorted our small group throughout the exhibits, and his insights greatly enhanced the museum experience. He added personal touches to the pieces, such as identifing one of the men in an old black and white photo as his grandfather, and sharing a private story about some young men who were recognized for reviving their culture’s carving customs. At one point while we were paused, waiting for the rest of the group to gather around, Bill looked at me and asked softly, “How am I doing?”

    “You’re doing great!” I encouraged. He was becoming more and more endeared to me every moment.
    “Oh, thank you,” he blushed. “I have to ask every once in a while to make sure”.

By the time we returned to the Great Hall, only myself and two older American women remained in the tour group. Bill invited us up on a platform to sit at a long table, which had wooden pegs fastened to the edges and a bundle of cedar bark strips next to a plastic tub of water on the top. He asked us to get our piece of bark deeply saturated with water, then showed us how to loop the bark around the peg, pulling tightly toward ourselves, while first twisting each side of the bark and then crisscrossing the two sides to form a type of braid. Once the ends were tied off, we either had a bracelet or, if the bark strip was too short, a bookmark.

Our craft table

 

My bracelet!

The craft project was the conclusion of Bill’s tour. While we worked, he told us about some of the special events that had been hosted at the SLCC during the Olympics, and at how shocked he was that the dignitaries and other important guests wanted to have their pictures taken with him. The three of us did not find it strange at all, however, and also requested photos.

Me and Bill!

Though I had learned a lot from Bill’s perspective, I returned to my thorough reading of each exhibit piece. Weaving is another highly revered skill to both the Lil’wat and Squamish nations. A large cedar root mat hangs proudly in the Great Hall of the SLCC, created specifically for the building as a way to pass on the artform to the youth. The entire process, it is explained, takes a whole seasonal cycle. Young members of the Lil’wat nation learned what resources are harvested when and how to prepare them for weaving. To dye the wild cherry bark black, for instance, it must spend months buried in slough water. Through the creation of this wall hanging, many lessons were able to be passed down to modern generations, and the cultural traditions can now be kept alive.

A glance at my watch told me two things. One: I had been at the SLCC for two hours, and two: it was lunchtime. Although a nearby sushi restaurant had been highly recommended to me by numerous people, I decided to continue embracing the natives’ culture and check out the café downstairs. Contrary to my typical tendencies, I opted for the venison chili (I had never before been inclined to eat venison, but I thought hey, when in Whistler…) and bannock, which was defined by the menu as “a traditional fry bread made fresh daily”. It turned out to be an excellent decision.

Venison chili and bannock

When I returned upstairs to complete my visit, I was drawn to the maps on the wall outlining each culture’s territory. Whistler was depicted in a distinct overlap between the two, and having by that point spent almost three full weeks in the mountain village I understood first-hand the value of this land. Rather  than becoming a battleground of constant conflict, however, the area became a symbol of alliance, unity, and cooperation between the two nations. For centuries the two peoples lived side by side in peaceful coexistence, and in 2001 a Protocol Agreement was signed as a contract of solidarity in continued collaboration regarding matters of preservation and protection of their mutual heritage.

The following year, the Shared Legacies Agreement was signed between the Squamish and Lil’wat tribes as well as the Vancouver 2010 Bid Corporation and the Province of British Columbia. It was this powerful pact that granted $3 million towards the building of the SLCC, as well as 300 acres of land for economic development and another $2.3 million dedicated towards a skills and legacy training project.

As I stared at the maps inside this beautiful building, founded by a joint partnership of different cultures, I couldn’t help but wonder why other parts of the world were unable to set aside their differences in customs and beliefs and instead celebrate their commonalities. When roots are allowed to forge their paths deep into the earth without conflict, the tree – and the community which it protects – grows healthy and strong. When roots from neighboring plants are fighting for same space, however, the growth of each is stunted and their beauty diminished. The Squamish and Lil’wat peoples are excellent examples to the world of the gifts that can be bestowed by a healthy living environment – their woodwork comes from sturdy trunks, their baskets are made with strong bark. And their cultural center is operated with pure human spirit.

It's Coming Back: A Memoir

Sometimes we become tethered, voluntarily or otherwise, to a slice in time, a location on a map, an event on a calendar. The land and its structures take up residency in the core of our beings, bittersweet burdens we carry with us long after our footprints are erased from the soil. Human connections jog our memories and dispatch our minds back to those moments, those settings, and those emotions. From the instant I first ducked into the Blackcomb Excalibur gondola, a union was forged between myself and my destination: the Whistler Sliding Center. It was a bond that would be tested, threatened, and strengthened over the next three weeks as my life twisted and curved through thrills and chills in a warped harmony with the turns the sliding track carved down the steep mountainside.

My introduction to the Sliding Center began with a glowing heart. I was standing outside the security checkpoint tent with our crew of workers, the anticipation to make my inaugural entrance threatening to overwhelm me. Charles paused his French conversation with Aurelien to clarify from Jan if “glowing” held the same meaning as “shiny”. My initial reaction was surprise, and I wondered why he would choose to ask a Czech rather than a native English-speaker. “No,” Jan mused, rolling the words around in his head for a breath of a moment before answering in his clean accent, “‘shiny’ is reflected light, but ‘glowing’ is light from within”. Wow. That briefest of exchanges was a powerball of significance for me, and foreshadowed many essential elements of my experience.

I could feel the venue’s glowing heart from the moment I entered the complex, despite my first glimpse being a muddy parking lot dotted with shipping containers for offices and tents for buildings. I have stood inside the Coliseum. I have craned my neck to stare up at both David and the Sistine Chapel. My fingers have traced lines on the columns of ancient Greek temples. I am no mere stranger to architectural feats or works of beauty.  The sliding track, however, touched me like no other. It reached through my flesh, zigged and zagged between my ribs, and delicately wound its glow around my heart. In addition to the awe, appreciation, and respect that I have for those other buildings, there burns within me a love and reverence for the power of the track that cannot be properly qualified in words. I intend no offense to Michelangelo, but I have never been so humbled by a structure or artwork as I am by the Whistler Sliding Center.

It is a masterpiece not only in construction but in operation. Each athlete that flashes by adds a stroke of genius to the canvas. The first time I saw a woman fly around Turn 16 at nearly ninety miles an hour laying flat-backed on a luge sled, I laughed aloud in pure amazement. I heard the low, building roar of her sled for only a few seconds before she zipped past me in a crescendo, then the rumble evaporated into the frosty air. For that frozen moment in time, she was close enough to touch had I reached out my arm. I leaned on a steel support beam just outside the track, marveling at the exhilaration and adrenaline that still hung thick in the air like smoke after a wildfire. I was moved by the power of the track and the dominance each athlete fought to gain. Television does not adequately represent the speed and level of difficulty undertaken by these competitors.

But I know. I saw it. I was there.

My infatuation was only three days old on the morning of the Opening Ceremonies. I had already vowed to seize every opportunity to escape the office and bear witness to the stunning displays of athleticism occurring just up the road. The sun’s rays fell on my face as I stood inside the final turn to watch the men lugers’ last practice runs. I focused my camera on the “Vancouver” lettering in the ice and waited with my shutter finger ready until I heard the foreboding thunder of the sled barreling around the corner. I rejoiced at catching the luger in frame. The second Georgian luger to take his run began as no different than the rest. I commented to myself that I had no idea how to pronounce his last name. Click. I glanced down to see his relatively small body passing over the lower extremities of the “-er” painted blue beneath the clear top layer of ice. I glanced up, then wished my photo had held my attention longer.

 Nodar Kumaritashvili 2.12.10

I do not remember hearing an audible gasp from the few of us inside Turn 16. I wondered who hit the pause button as the whole world slowed down, then the medical team lounging on the Gator beside us sprang into action, racing under the tunnel and out of the track. The screen that had showed the luger fly off his sled and into the post beside the track went blank as my whole body went numb. I had stood in that same spot the day before.

It was as if I had gone deaf. There were no panicked screams, no intruding sirens indicating grave danger. Then I heard it. The sled that had just bucked off its rider galloped backwards around Turn 16, crazed and confused, afraid of being caught. Rather than reminding me of a building shaking from a low-flying airplane, the sound was more like fingernails on a chalkboard without Nodar Kumaritashvili’s 176 pounds of force weighing it down, controlling it. It was just two steel blades scratching hopelessly on the surface of the ice. “It’s coming back! It’s coming back!”, a VANOC smurf shouted into my brain as he climbed onto the track into the path of the empty sled. His voice echoed around in there, bouncing off the caverns of my mind. It still has not found a pathway out but lives as a boomerang, retreating into my unconscious only to resurface and again bellow its promise: “It’s coming back! It’s coming back!”.

There was nothing to do but sit in the office and stare dejectedly at each other. Clouds soon blanketed the sky and began to shed their tears as we learned from repeated Google web searches the devastating news of Nodar’s passing. There was a sudden void deep within the core of me. I immediately felt an unwarmable cold, and fatigue descended like a tidal wave. I had prepared myself for virtually anything when I came to Whistler. I had not, however, braced myself for death.

Over the next few days an internal contradiction clawed at my soul, huffing and puffing and terrorizing my glowing heart. How could something I loved so immediately and unreservedly inflict such pain? Was the track a masterpiece or a monster? Was I the monster for holding the icy path in such high esteem? Who was at fault? Who had the answers?

To alleviate my torment, I forced myself to recognize the following notions: (1.) I will seek not blame nor restitution. It is impossible to point the finger when there is no one person, nor one decision. It was an accident. (2.) Perfection does not exist. The spirit is never completely free from turmoil, yet conflict leads to learning. Each luger chooses his own course down the ice, making adjustments based on previous runs and the condition of the track, but even this knowledge will not prevent hard rubs around the corners. (3.) I called the Sliding Center my destination, but I could have just as easily used its etymological cousin ‘destiny’. I know that my presence at the track and what I witnessed had a profound impact on me. Nodar changed my life and my Olympic experience.

The other solace I found was from the comrades with whom I shared my days at the Sliding Center. Jono, the hyperactive Aussie supervisor whose frantic hands and babbling lips were difficult to decipher over the radio, entertained me with the practical jokes he interjected around our office. Cedric, with his oversized doe eyes and poor English, kept me in stitches every time he innocently queried “Yum yums?” when he came to retrieve his meal ticket. Jan, who wisely defined “glowing” on my first day, reminded me daily of my brother with his smart yet sarcastic humor and geeky tendencies. Aurelien, the Parisian whose twinkling eyes and mischievous smile hide behind dark-rimmed glasses and a scruffy beard, never ceased to make me laugh by saying things like “My accent is sexy” and “napskin”. These kindred spirits, among others, were integral parts of my happiness ― and my healing.

I am still not certain it is possible to describe the true essence of an intangible feeling so powerful that it stays lodged in your heart despite being separated from its source. It is a glow from within that cannot be extinguished, because it was born in the flame of a wild, untamed spirit older than time. It is both a glow of joy and a glow of sorrow, dancing forever around, between, and through one another. That glow lives inside me now, and I will cherish it because I know that I am its true source.

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter everyone! I just wanted to share this photo with you that I saw on the facebook fanpage for The Olympic Games. Enjoy!

Source: farm3.static.flickr.com

Funniest Man on the Planet

One night, Holly and I had the honor of riding the #10 bus with a guy who I determined to be the funniest man on the planet.

Tired after a long day of gallivanting around the town, Holly and I collapsed into our usual seats and lounged quietly across the aisle from each other as the bus lingered its obligatory amount of time for stragglers to board. Normally the other passengers who wandered into the back of the bus would turn out to be Cleanevent employees, but this night it was three burly men in Swiss team jackets who interrupted my spacey stare as they took their places along the last row. My line of sight out the opposite window was soon after obstructed by a tall Austrian man who appeared to be in his early- to mid-30s. A woman sat next to him and they exchanged a familiar greeting before she introduced another Swiss gentleman to her left. I (regrettably) did not catch the Austrian's name during that brief exchange.

A (fairly accurate) seating chart of the back half of our bus

I was still largely lost in thought as the bus pulled away from the curb into the night, though before long I couldn't help but notice the intermittent rounds of exuberant laughter emanating from the Swiss to my left. Even without understanding German, I observed that each time the Austrian said a sentence - just a single sentence - it resulted in the deepest, most honest chuckles from the men and an insuppressible giggle from the woman. He wasn't telling a story, nor was there a discernible conversation between the Europeans; The Austrian just kept cracking jokes in seeming isolation and, based on the reaction he was getting, he was quite the comedian.

As the ride continued, yawning replaced jokes on his list of priorities and I fought to stifle my own breaths despite watching him open his mouth wide enough to swallow a soccer ball. Awkward eye contact was unavoidable based on the combination of the layout of the bus and the seats we had chosen, yet I couldn't manage to muster up enough courage to speak to this intimidatingly hilarious Austrian. What could I possibly say to a man whose every utterance was welcomed with such heartfelt appreciation? I kept my mouth shut (both to refrain from embarrassing myself by speaking and to avoid further infecting the other passengers with yawns), however I silently hoped he would enlighten me with a wisecrack in English. But alas, when we parted ways I was left to only marvel at my fortuitous brush with greatness: I shared a bus with the funniest man on the planet.

Nimble Management Teams

A week after Paul Lovett's presentation, his older brother Craig also came to speak with us. He spoke more about VANOC's journey and the bigger picture of planning an Olympics, not just Cleanevent's role.

The timeline of Vancouver's preparation, as he presented it, looked something like this:

• 1960 - Vancouver started toying with the idea of hosting the Games
• 1980 - They started seriously considering making a bid
• 1990 - They started planning for the bid process
• 1999 - The bid process began; 32 cities were narrowed down to 16, then 8, then 5
• 2003 - Vancouver won the bid to host the 2010 Winter Olympics Games

This was $1 billion process, including infrastructure from roadways to the airport to the power grid to the waste system, et cetera, et cetera.

Craig then challenged us to list the "most important players", or stakeholders, in the Games. We decided there were:

• The Athletes - of course, they are the reason for the Games; they put on the show
• Management - they provide organization, safety, policy, etc
• The Sponsors - they provide the essential funding
• The Media - they are the "eyes of the world"
• The Spectators - they bring in revenue, but also provide some of the "wow factor"
• The T.V. Audience - they indirectly provide even more revenue than spectators in the stands
• The Olympic Family - this term is used not only for the relatives of athletes but for anyone involved with the governing bodies of the sport or the Games.

We also came up with a list of some of the "Functional Areas" that play roles in the planning and execution of an event like this:

• Sport - controls everything involving actual competition within the Field of Play (FOP)
• Site Management - deals with the overall venue and logistics
• Transport - responsible for getting all athletes, spectators, employees, volunteers, contractors, equipment, etc to the venue
• Overlay - designs the physical layout of the venue ("the people who get handed a box of jigsaw pieces" - Craig Lovett)
• Wayfinding - responsible for all signage to get spectators, employees, vendors, contractors, etc from their doorsteps and into the venue
• Security - monitors access to the venue and safety within it
• Broadcast/Press Media - transfers images and information from the venue to the outside world
• Look - designs and hangs the "frosting" - posters, banners, fence coverings, etc.
• Food & Beverage - catering for workers and concessions for spectators
• SCW - snow removal, cleaning, and waste removal from front- and back-of-the-house

Sounds like there's a lot going on here, eh? Craig had one main point behind all of this: all these different aspects MUST come together to become one team. They must integrate.

This idea of "integration" is a buzz word that I've been buzzing around for a while now (my Honors Thesis paper is on Integrated Rural Tourism), and it is so essential to a large event like this. Craig also called it "venuisation", turning all the individual functional areas into a venue management team in which each department has a seat at the table.

Without open lines of communication, each area is operating in a vacuum and when the event gets closer and their isolated little bubble comes in contact with another area's bubble, both are going to pop and lie in pieces on the ground. Craig explained that “the best events in the world have nimble management teams”, the ones who recognize that “at some stage you have to stop planning and start doing”.

This is especially important with the Olympics, because there is only one Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games - there is no "next time" for VANOC to get it right. They get one shot. “What’s the most important thing in the Olympic Games?" Craig asked. "Fixing it right now”.

Venue management must put themselves in the place of spectators early on, and utilize each area's expertise in a dialogue to discuss the most practical ways to plan for every potential scenario that may arise.

That is what I LOVE about event planning. There are countless challenges, all unique to venue and the event and the location and the people involved. Every action must be thought through 10, 20, 50 steps down the road to consider all possible repercussions. Each action must be run by a dozen other departments; it is such a collaboration of minds, all experts in their own fields. It's amazing what people can achieve when working together. I look forward to the day when I can be a part of such a team.

The Bid Process

Let's not forget that I also took classes in Whistler. My second class featured Paul Lovett, co-founder of Cleanevent and the man responsible for bringing us into the internship program. The focus of his lecture was on the bid process, and although he gave us a wealth of information it left me wanting to know more about bids (and how I can be involved in them).

First he explained that the IOC wants boxes upon boxes of information from the bidding city, an immense amount of work. Some of the major things they focus on these days are security, legacy, and sustainability. That being said, there isn't really a magic formula for the approach to the proposal. Sometimes it's all about building new infrastructure -- for instance, VANOC took a once dirt road in Highway 99 and went as far as blasting the mountainsides to make it wider -- yet sometimes the IOC wants a promise to not build any new structures, like Rio pledged since they already built a solid infrastructure of other games.

Sometimes it comes down largely to politics. Paul's opinion was that Chicago was too cocky and did not fight for the bid, and that Obama didn't do anything to help his hometown. One of the main things Rio had going for it was simply that South America had never hosted the Games before, as well as the fact that they threatened not to bid again if they didn't win in 2016 (they had also bid for 2012).

From there Paul moved into talking about what a contracted company such as Cleanevent goes through to win the bid from the whatever organizing committee is hosting the games (this goes for the Olympics but also things like the Commonwealth Games and other sporting events that Cleanevent works on).

First, Cleanevent goes through a process called succumbment; they succumb to the city's bid team and work for them - for free - to help put together the SCW (snow, cleaning, waste) portion of the overall bid for the Games. They sometimes even succumb to more than one city (for instance, they helped both London and New York for the 2012 Olympics). They will have a very strong "in" if they help the winning city, so assisting more than one increases their chances of coming out on the winning side.

The next thing Cleanevent does is submit an RFP - request for proposal. Numbers must be crunched, and both a technical bid (in terms of manhours and employees) and a commercial bid ($$$) are developed. Paul stressed to us the importance of never quoting hourly rates in the service industry. He also told us that if the job becomes much bigger than quoted, you should always finish the job before asking for  more money. If they’re happy with the job done, 9 out of 10 will pay more money to compensate for the extra work incurred by the company.

During this initial part of the bid, before the contract is awarded, is when many of the logistical details are planned out. What's important to remember is that at this stage "all you see is paper" - everything is based off of floor plans and diagrams and not off of an actual tour of the facilities.

Finally all applicants tour the venues and the EOI - expression of interest - process narrows down the field of bidders before going to tender. It is in the tender stage that legal consultants are brought in. Cleanevent's bid teams usually number around 15 people, mainly internal Cleanevent employees and a few from outside the company. In this critical time the bid manager must be strong enough to pull everyone together (Paul commented that in his experience a female is usually best at this role), and the marketing team must paint the story in a way that's appealing to what the organizing committee wants.

Although it is after the tender stage that a contract is awarded, Paul said that generally a tender is won even before the tender stage is reached. It's more about networking connections, and a relationship must be in place before even going to the bid table. One contract that Cleanevent is currently vying for, for example, is the Delhi Commonwealth Games. Delhi is far behind where they should be in this process, and the longer they wait the more they will be forced to go with a company like Cleanevent that has the proven industry experience. Other smaller companies don't have the luxury of simply copying and pasting bid proposals from similar events, so even though lack of planning time is frustrating to Cleanevent, it will most likely work in their advantage.

One tricky part of the contract is the issue of "field of play", and what - if any - portions of it the contracted cleaning company is required to clean. The lines are fuzzy here. In swimming competitions, for example, the pool is obviously field of play but what about the deck around the pool? It comes under the control of Sport, but they may still want the cleaning company to be responsible for it.

Paul told us about one event they worked (I cannot recall which it was, except that it was a large-scale Games) in which the contract stated that anything blue or green Cleanevent would not clean. They intended "blue" to mean water and "green" to mean grass, but the tennis courts had been painted blue and it turned out the organizing committee did want Cleanevent to take care of the courts. These types of confusions work to Cleanevent's financial advantage because they usually come to light fairly close to the Games, and by that point Cleanevent gets to charge for any changes to the initial contract.

Another change that brings in more money for Cleanevent is postponement of play. Scheduled competition days that become down days due to postponement are still charged as competition days, yet down days that become competition days also get to be charge as competition days since that type of work is being performed.

This lecture was really just a brief overview of the bid process. I can only imagine how exciting (and work intensive!) it must be to put together a bid to host the Olympics, not to mention to actually carry it to fruition. I hope one day I'll know first hand...

Puzzle Piece

The two pieces I posted regarding the luge accident have been drafted for quite a while. I didn't know where to put them. They are uncomfortable. They are not sunny. But they are necessary.

Chronologically they weren't ready to be posted right after the fact; they deserved more time, more thought. But to put them at the end, to have them appear glaringly at the top of the page as a punctuation mark forever, as representative of my entire experience? That wasn't right either.

Please don't look at these two posts as shoved into the middle of happier times. This is not an attempt to bury what happened by sweeping it under the rug. I also, however, don't want to ostracize that event and make it appear completely isolated from all of my subsequent experiences - on the contrary, it in some way influenced every encounter I had throughout the duration of my time in Whistler.

I'm still trying to find a place for this piece of my Olympic puzzle. If you ask me "How was the Olympics!?" I will answer that it was an amazing experience, because it was. If you (like so many people have already) ask me if I was there for the accident, I will tell you I was. It is not, however, something I am ready to openly discuss with people in casual conversation. It was not something I learned about on a breaking news story, as the rest of the U.S. did - it was something I experienced.

I plan to carry that burden without making a spectacle of it.

I Know How to Spell His Name.

I never met Nodar Kumaritashvili.

I do not know the sound of his voice.
I do not know what songs made him turn up the volume and sing aloud in the car.
I do not know his favorite color.

Here is what I do know.

I know that he was born three days after me on November 25th, 1988. He was 21 years old.

I know that he sought challenges. He chose to pursue a difficult career that requires a tremendous amount of technical skill at great personal risk. Even accessing proper training facilities, traveling to competition venues, and finding a qualified coach are significant obstacles in such a small sport world as luge.

I know that he was ambitious. He came here with the hopes of winning a medal despite being ranked 44th in the world. He believed in himself, and strove for excellence.

I know that he did not seek celebrity status in life. He chose the sport of luge, which goes virtually unnoticed in the athletic world except during a few days every four years at the Olympics. By aiming for a medal he sought honor, not everlasting world fame.

I know that he was brave. He came to Whistler knowing that he would be competing at the world's fastest track. He continued training after a dozen minor accidents occurred in the week leading up to Opening Ceremonies.

I know that he was focused. I could see it in his eyes as he adjusted his helmet and prepared to make what would become his final run. He took his sport seriously.

I know that my presence at the track and what I witnessed had a profound impact on me. He changed my life and my Olympic experience.

I know that he will never be forgotten. He will live forever in my glowing heart.

Blind-Sliding Low

I still have a hard time sorting out my feelings about Friday, February 12th, 2010. You all know, I'm sure, about the fatal luge accident that occurred during the final training runs for Men's Luge. I hope you only heard about it, and did not watch the gruesome video.

Death is a heartbreaking tragedy no matter what the circumstances. I can’t convey how much more difficult it is to face such a sorrowful incident in the midst of a large, juggernaut of an event like the Olympics. There is a line from a song by Ingram Hill that says “I don’t know what I’m feeling – it’s not alright, it can’t be”. That’s basically how I felt that Friday. There was no room for feeling distraught at a celebration as joyous as the Opening Ceremonies, yet I couldn’t feel right about cheering wildly in honor of Canada with this weight on my shoulders. I was in limbo, a weird funk, but of course time marches on.

I was there. I was standing inside Turn 16 – the final curve – the morning of the last practice runs for Men’s Luge. I saw the Italian gold medal favorite fly past me after faltering and correcting his positioning further up the track. I snapped photos of the screen displaying each athlete before they began their runs simply so that I could accurately caption my facebook photos later on. I focused my camera on the “Vancouver” lettering in the ice and waited until I heard the rumbling of the sled barreling around the corner. I rejoiced at catching the luger in frame. The second Georgian luger to take his run had been no different than the rest. I commented to myself that I had no idea how to pronounce his last name.

I don’t remember hearing an audible gasp from those inside Turn 16. There was the briefest of pauses as the whole world slowed down, then the medical team lounging on the Gator beside us sprang into action and raced out of the Dog Bone. The screen that had showed the luger fly off his sled and into the post beside the track went blank as my whole body went numb.

The three other interns and I walked out of track in a shocked daze, mumbling that we hoped he’d be okay and what a shame that he’d more than likely be out of the Olympics. We attempted to check on him from the same spot we watched the Romanian luger be loaded onto a stretcher the day before, but were stopped and asked to clear the area by a VANOC official. In hindsight, I will be eternally grateful for that.

We walked somberly back to the trailer and reported to Scott what we had just witnessed. The office was still quiet (which was the only reason all four of us had been at the track in the first place) so after not too long we were able to slip out into the Workforce Break Tent and watch the news updates on T.V. They replayed the video a couple times, which was completely nauseating to watch. None of us had an appetite for lunch but we ate anyway, clinging to some semblance of normalcy.

After repeatedly searching Google for updated information, we learned that the luger did not survive his injuries.

There was a void deep within the core of me. I immediately felt an unwarmable cold, and fatigue descended like a tidal wave. There was nothing to do but sit in the office and stare dejectedly at each other. As VANOC scrambled to keep media releases under control and a meeting was set up with luge coaches and captains, all of our workers were pulled off the mountain and contained within Lot 7. We speculated as to whether or not they would cancel the luge events, but Kelly pointed out that "the show must go on". That made me even more sick to my stomach, mostly because I knew he was right.

Since our team could no longer access the areas we were scheduled to clean, we were sent home early. Holly and I returned to camp to change and get ready to meet Sydney and Colleen in town to watch the Opening Ceremonies. I felt like I was in a fog. I didn't cry. I didn't want to talk about it, though Holly and I spoke briefly enough to agree that somehow we would feel differently if we hadn't been there - right there, in the Dog Bone, watching...

The Opening Ceremonies were beautiful. Part of me welcomed the distraction, although when the screens at Whistler Live in the Village Square temporarily lost the feed from Vancouver there was room for my mind to wander. Part of me didn't want to be there.

I found it cruelly ironic that the sixty seconds of silence in honor of Nodar Kumaritashvili equaled the approximate amount of time I knew of his existence before his name was ingrained in my memory forever. Tears finally streaked my face during K.D. Lang's rendition of Hallelujah, and I stood grateful for the drizzling rain and the hood that I used to conceal my face. I then felt strangely comforted when one arm of the torch did not rise triumphantly toward the ceiling to meet the others, as if it representing the piece that was irreplaceably missing from these Winter Games.

Oddly enough, that was the small bit of peace that I took with me when it was finally time to escape consciousness for a night's rest.

Venue Tour - Athletes' Village

The Athlete's Village is located about 15 minutes south of the center of Whistler. Perched atop a former landfill, 80% of the homes were sold at an auction before they were even built. This "venue" is definitely counted among the successes of the Vancouver 2010 Games, coming in under budget and successfully converting the methane gas produced by a nearby waste facility to provide 80% of the energy used.

All the houses have garages and driveways, but the athletes are not allowed to have their own cars during the Games to cut down on carbon emissions and encourage the use of public (or at least shared) transportation. Also, the kitchens in the houses have not yet been installed in order to force the athletes to eat in the dining tent. This ensures that the caterers' food does not go to waste, and encourages social interactions by the athletes.

Here are some exterior photos of the athletes' sweet digs.

Little Italy of the Athletes' Village!

L-R: Chile, Iceland, South Africa

New Zealand

Me with the moose in Team Canada's neighborhood!

USA!

In addition to the actual houses where the athletes live, there are other buildings providing anything the athletes may need...

One of the buildings that features many amenities to cater to the athletes.
 -

Classy black leather furniture was standard around WVL

There is a "water bar" for the athletes - how cool is that!?!

 

Chef de Mission tent - where meetings are held, not where press conferences take place

There is a hostel in the WVL (which I intend to stay in when I return to Whistler) that includes a T.V. room (pictured below), a mini movie theater, an interfaith worship center, internet stations, and other amenities in addition to guest rooms.

T.V. viewing room

Laptop station in the front part of the hostel. The windows look out into the WVL.

To give you more a sense of of the WVL, here's a map of the entire venue:

Areas 10, 4, 3, 11, and 17 are where the houses are. The parts printed in a lighter gray are back-of-house.

This section shows some more of the athletes' areas, including their retail shops (such as their own Olympic merchandise store, a bank and a post office), their recreation and leisure center, and the hostel.

Daily Commute

My commute to work starts off not too fun, crammed in a van with a dozen other people. The next leg is nothing spectacular -  on the BC Transit bus #2 as it winds its way through The Highlands residential area, taking longer to get to the Whistler Village than the #10. The #2 does, however, drop off at the top of the Village rather than the bottom, making it more convenient to get to the best part of the trip - the gondola!

I took this video one day when I found myself all alone in the gondola. I had to take the rare opportunity to record the beauty of the pristine, fresh snow!

You Couldn't Pay Me To Do Skeleton

I was lucky enough to have the evening off on Thursday the 18th to take in some of the action at the WSC with the other girls. We caught Heat #2 of Women's Skeleton and Heat #1 of the Men's.

For this event, I decided to check out the vantage point by the finish line. Please note that the finish line and the finish dock are different, and quite a distance from each other. The finish line marks the conclusion of the official timing of the slide, but when going 90mph it takes quite a while to slow down. By the time the athletes reach the finish dock they have slowed down enough to stop and get off their sleds (or in the case of skeleton, they crash head-first into sheets of foam placed in the track).

At the finish line, the athletes were still a blur shooting past me. My first shot would have been awesome...had I stuck my camera out further!

That little blur is a skeleton woman crossing the blue finish line - trust me.

This one is better of the athlete

I'm pretty sure this was up by Turn 15, just up the hill from my normal spot in Turn 16

This is a Vancouver band called Swarm that entertained the crowd during the break in competition. They were awesome!

Tubing!

Having only been skiing once previously (7 years ago) I didn't feel comfortable braving the slopes alone, especially on such a world-class mountain. I did, however, find something more my speed...

Tubing!

Just above the entrance to the Sliding Center, parallel with Lot 8, is the Coca Cola Tube Park. It was $18 for an hour, or $27 for two hours. We were warned, however, that an hour was enough. In fully-winterized gear, we trekked up the hill to the entrance, then dragged our tubes over to the "lift", which was a moving sidewalk angled up the hill.

The other girls riding the lift up the hill

There were a few tracks designated for little kids, a few "black diamond" lanes, and a happy medium section. Naturally, we headed straight for the black diamond. Unfortunately it was drizzling that day, and the staff told us the course wasn't running very fast because of it. That didn't stop us from having fun!

After some solo slides, we teamed up and went down in pairs. Going down with Holly was the most fun because the entire time we were tubing she could not contain her excitement - she definitely had the most fun!

I hope this doesn't make anyone dizzy!

At the end of the hour, we were all pretty tired and crashed in the tubes for a photo shoot.

Prankster Payback

Our crazy Australian supervisor Jono likes to play pranks. I never seem to be there when he attacks his victims, but I am fortunate enough to be there when they retaliate against him.

The other day I was walking through the office and I saw Erin's accreditation, sitting on the table, covered in doodles with a black Sharpie. Lucky for her, it mostly came off with water and now bears only black smudges. Still angry, Erin wanted revenge. "Give me something of Jono's! Anything!" she said. She found his boots.

For some reason she had Corn Flakes with her. And yes, she put gloves on before touching his nasty boots.

The cereal started coming out the hole in his toe!

Needless to say, Jono wasn't too pleased to stick his feet into his boots that night. His next victim, however, was not Erin again but rather another SCW employee - Tyler. I wasn't there that day, but Holly said Jono took everything out of Tyler's backpack and duct taped it all individually to the ceiling, along with the backpack itself. Today Holly and I were in our office and could hear duct tape being pulled off the roll and ripped. I went to check it out and found Tyler in the VANOC office duct taping Jono's wallet. He first covered each card in duct tape, then wrapped and wrapped duct tape around the open wallet. He fastened it closed with six zipties, then added more duct tape for good measure. He then duct taped it dangling from the ceiling.

Tyler exacting his revenge

As if that wasn't enough, he coated it with hand sanitizer too

When Jono came into the office looking for his wallet, he searched the shelf and kept asking us if we knew where it was. He even walked by it hanging there a few times without even noticing that anything was there. Finally Scott suggested that maybe Tyler stole it, so Jono gave him a call. Eventually Jono caught on to the game and found it.

It was right in front of his face the whole time.

The whole time he was cutting his way into the wallet, Jono was laughing and admiring the great lengths Tyler went to in his payback. It was all in good fun, and both guys knew that.

Hang Tight

WOW! So many interesting and AMAZING things have happened this past week! I've been trying to post frequently, but I'm still behind on so many things, especially the information I've learned in class. Today and tonight, too, could fill a few blog posts - so much has happened!

Tomorrow (Sunday) night the JWU Providence interns will be taking a shuttle from camp to the Vancouver airport (YVR) at 11:00PM and we will be "sleeping" in the airport overnight until our early morning flights (mine's at 8:30AM). The good news? YVR has free WiFi! I hope to get caught up then. If not, I will be blogging over spring break. In addition to reporting on my experiences, I will be doing some deeper reflections while the memories are still fresh.

So basically, please hang tight and bear with me while the dizziness of this whirlwind fades away. Some of the best stories are yet to come. I will leave you with this captionless picture as a cliffhanger...

Fairmont, Olympic Family, and Cupcakes

On Wednesday morning I arranged for myself a tour of the Fairmont Chateau Whistler. I was taken around the property by a young woman from the Sales Office named Andrea. She apologized that she could not show me any guest rooms because they were at full occupancy, but that's great news from a hotel standpoint. I was able to see one function space, the dining and retail facilities, and the health club/spa. Fairmont even has a Mountain Adventure Club where lift tickets and ski rentals can be purchased. There's a chairlift out the back door, making the hotel an ideal accommodation for skiers. The Fairmont even has their own bobsled in the lobby!

On the bus back to Athlete's Village last night I rode with the mother and sister of American bobsleigh bronze medalist Elana Meyers. Her mom was telling us that Elana used to be a softball player but softball is no longer an Olympic sport, so Elana turned to bobsled. "I personally think she picked the craziest sport she could think of" her mother joked. The sad part of the story is that Elana's family never received any accreditation, nor did the families of any other American bobsled athletes. This has created a lot of hassle and frustration for the families, who have had difficulty gaining access to the Athlete's Village, the Sliding Center, and the special Olympic Families areas. Mrs. Meyers didn't seem to be putting the blame on VANOC, but rather on the U.S. Bobsleigh Team for not arranging the necessary credentials.


The other night when Holly and I got off work, we had a clear mission in mind: cupcakes. Holly said she knew of a place that sold really good cupcakes that she wanted to try. Scott dropped us off a the Gondola Transit Exchange and we walked along the road on the outside of the village until we got down to the Bus Loop by Blenz. Holly could have sworn the cupcake place was in that area, but all we could find was the creperia that she also wanted to try. Not sure we had enough time for crepes, we asked some VANOC volunteers if they knew where the cupcake place was. One guy did, and directed us up to the Visitor's Center. We hurried up there, but it was a longer walk than we had anticipated. When we finally got there, we were dismayed to find that is was closed for the evening (it was, after all, 9:30PM). Pressed for time, we hurried back to the bus stop. The number 10 bus had passed us on our way up, and it was imperative that we didn't miss the next one if we were to make the 10:15 Cleanevent shuttle. When we returned to the bus stop we were the only ones waiting for the 10. Knowing that we had a few minutes before the next one arrived - and that when it did it always sat for a few more minutes - Holly took off jogging to the Starbucks, which she suddenly remembered sold red velvet cupcakes. She returned triumphantly just a moment before the 10 rounded the bend. We decided that it was actually the ideal situation because if we had gone to Starbucks in the first place we would not have gotten the exercise that we did on our fail first attempt. Since Holly purchased both cupcakes, we agreed that we'd have to go again on my treat...

More Medals, More Music

My buddy Steve came through for us again! I was one row back from the front of the mosh pit fence for the Medals Ceremony and The Fray concert. I'll let the pictures tell the story

This is Fred, who played a hilarious role in the movie A Guy Thing (starring Jason Lee and Julia Stiles - it's a great movie). His job is to entertain the crowd before the ceremony begins. He does trivia and reads his "Top 5" list of events and results around the Games.

Team Russia took gold in Biathlon Women's 4 x 6km Relay, France took silver, and Germany took bronze. There were three Russians in the crowd directly in front of me who cheered and sang loud and proud.

The medalists for Men's Alpine Skiing Giant Slalom. Kjetil Jansrud - NOR (left), Carlo Janka - SUI (center), Aksel Lund Svindal - NOR (right)

The medalists for Men's Nordic Combined 4 x 5km Team. Team USA - silver (left), Team Austria - gold (back), Team Germany - bronze (right). I love Germany's uniforms - blue for boys, pink for girls!

Isaac Slade, lead singer of The Fray

Isaac and lead guitarist Dave Welsh, with Ben Wysocki on drums in the back left corner. He makes weird faces while he plays.

Isaac sat at the piano...

...and sang on the piano

Someone threw a Canada scarf onto the stage and he wore it for the rest of the show

This photo is not zoomed at all. That's how close I was to the stage!

I Love Information

Yesterday we toured the Media Center, which is housed in the Whistler Convention Center in the center of the town. We saw the public press areas in the front, and nearby there were rows and rows of documents of information organized alphabetically by sport, and then labeled according to the topic of the document. My eyes went straight to the Luge section, which still had papers sitting in the cubbies despite the fact that luge competition had ended last week.

Excited by the potentially valuable information those documents contained, I got our tour guide (a Cleanevent team leader) to snag me one of every document we dared to take, since we weren’t sure if we’d get in trouble if caught. The pieces I took contain lots of background information about the sport and the Sliding Center, as well as some Games News. I ranked the Flash Quotes and Press Conference transcripts lowest on my list of priorities, so we abandoned those in favor of quitting while we were ahead. I might ask Sara to get some more next time she goes to work…

The most interesting document, i.e., the one containing the most random facts, is “Luge by the Number”. The following are some highlights.

•    153.93 – top speed in km/h reached in Men’s Luge on the Whistler Sliding Center track
•    104.6 – cost in millions of Canadian dollars to build the Whistler Sliding Center track
•    65 – number of Olympic medals won in Luge events [out of a possible 108] by German competitors since 1964. Twenty-nine were won under the banner of East Germany, 10 by West Germany, and 26 as Germany (GER).
•    46.808 – time in seconds of the Men’s Singles Luge course record at the Whistler Sliding Center, set by Felix Loch (GER) during a World Cup run on February 21, 2009.
•    14 – a total of 14 different Luge competitors at the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games have a relative also competing in a Luge event.
•    8 – birthdays celebrated by four females and four male Luge athletes during the Vancouver Games
•    2.5 – average thickness in centimeters of the ice on the Whistler Sliding Center track. Depending on the turn and the sport, the thickness can range from two to five cm.
•    -5 – temperature, in degrees Celsius, that ice makers try to maintain for the Whistler Sliding Center track, the ideal temperature for achieving the fastest speeds with the most consistency.

Okay, I understand that you aren’t all as obsessed with Luge as I have become, so I’ll add some more photos from my tour of the Media Center.

A floor plan showing part of the building and where each media broadcaster is housed. Some of these offices, such as Canadian Olympic Committee, have leather couches and refridgerators.

You cannot imagine the sheer volume of cords that run all through this place. The cages had to be built to sustain the weight, and this isn’t even one of the thickest bundles!

We got to sit at THE press conference table! Some OBS guys came in and out while we were there, but they couldn’t have cared less.

There is no assigned seating in here – all the media just comes in and picks whatever vantage point they want.

I got to stand outside NBC’s room!