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https://web.archive.org/web/20220809004407/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012122800006.html
2012.12.31
Beyond the Dream 11 - Grand Prix Final Report (Extra Edition)
The true face of Sochi, the Olympic host city
The 2012 Grand Prix Final was held in Sochi, in Russia's Krasnodar Krai.
With Sochi set to host the Winter Olympics in about a year, this Grand Prix Final served as a test event for figure skating. However, a test event does not mean an Olympic qualifying competition, nor would the results have any bearing on the actual Olympics. It was simply a preliminary event held in the same facilities as the Games, intended to ensure that the competition could be run smoothly.
The host city, Sochi. To be honest, the athletes, officials and members of the press arrived with considerable apprehension. I remembered an athlete who, after the Vancouver Olympics, was asked whether they would continue competing through to Sochi. "If the host city had been in Canada again, I might have felt like giving it another shot. But Russia..." they replied.
The conditions in the host city matter enormously, not only to the athletes and the Japanese team, but also to us members of the press and the fans who travel to support them. Safety, prices, food, the atmosphere of the city, the organization of the competition... The closer everything is to the environments in which people normally train and live, the less anxious they feel.
Among figure skating competitions held in North America, Europe and Asia, the Russian Cup in Moscow is said to be relatively unpopular with Japanese skaters.
And Sochi, of all places. I could not recall any major international figure skating competitions ever having been held there. Almost no Japanese athletes or officials had ever been to Sochi. Even the Russian pair who had won the NHK Trophy told me, "We haven't been there either." Just what kind of formidable place was this going to be?
As soon as I arrived, Sochi proved even more difficult to deal with than I had imagined.
First of all, there were the airport taxis. I arrived in Sochi at midnight, and a taxi was the only way to get to my hotel (the athletes could take buses arranged by the International Skating Union). Yet the fare quoted for a distance of just one kilometer was an astonishing 12,000 rubles. That was about 33,000 yen!
What made it worse was that this was not some obviously shady, unlicensed taxi driver soliciting passengers. The car had been directed to me by a female airport employee in uniform.
Twelve thousand rubles... For a moment, I nearly got confused, wondering whether I was supposed to divide rubles by four to convert them into yen. But if I paid the asking price, Sochi would have beaten me right from the start. After making a considerable fuss, mostly in Japanese, I eventually got the fare down to 2,000 rubles. Even that was 5,400 yen. It was still a rip-off.
"That's no good! You have to make sure the taxi has a meter!" I was scolded over the phone from Japan. But in all nine days I spent in Sochi, I did not see a single taxi with a meter!
Even after that harsh welcome, the troubles continued. Hardly anyone in the city spoke English, there was nowhere to exchange Japanese yen, stray dogs roamed the streets and apparently one reporter had been attacked, traffic was horrendous (a journey that should have taken 20 minutes took an hour and a half), and the hotel's internet connection was down for more than two days. The list went on. Complaints about Sochi flew back and forth almost every day among those of us who had come from Japan.
There were also reports that the athletes' hotel was old and dirty. In fact, the hotel was a sanatorium where people undergoing long-term recuperation stayed, and apparently all the guests other than those connected with the competition were elderly. Sochi, known as one of Russia's premier resort destinations, was also an ideal place for recuperation, with its hot springs and restorative climate. The city reportedly had more than 50 sanatoriums.
Large hotels and the Olympic Village were under construction in preparation for the Games, but there were still no hotels capable of accommodating large numbers of people. As a result, a large sanatorium had been assigned as the athletes' hotel. Meanwhile, the hotel where many members of the press were staying had opened only two weeks earlier. It was brand-new and sparkling clean, but it was so new that it lacked facilities such as vending machines and ATMs. There were not even any restaurants or general stores nearby.
If I had to name one good thing about arriving in Sochi, it was that the weather was much warmer than I had expected. Figure skating officials are well acquainted with the bitter cold of Moscow in winter. While buying more HEATTECH clothing at UNIQLO in Narita Airport, I ran into someone I knew who was boarding the same flight. I had also brought plenty of disposable hand warmers.
But in Sochi, no special cold-weather gear was needed at all. The first thing I said when I stepped off the plane was, "It's not cold!" It was that warm. People walking around the city wore light coats, and the temperature was about what you would expect in Japan in October. Figure skating competitions are often held in cold cities during the coldest time of year, so the warmth was a real relief. An environment in which the athletes' bodies would not get chilled was surely beneficial for their condition, too. I was glad to hear that temperatures in February, when the Olympics would be held, were expected to be much the same.
One might expect Sochi to be a resort town worthy of its reputation as one of Russia's finest. Yet the area around the athletes' hotel, in Sochi's Adler district, was little different from an ordinary Russian town, apart from the slightly tropical-looking trees and plants. Even allowing for the off-season, it was disappointing that there was virtually none of the atmosphere one would associate with a resort.
And then there were the Olympic facilities themselves. All the ice sports, including figure skating, speed skating and ice hockey, were to be held at the Sochi Olympic Park, under construction on reclaimed land in the eastern part of Sochi. The park was about a 20-minute shuttle bus ride from central Adler when traffic was clear, but I could hardly believe my eyes when I first saw the Olympic Park.
Several facilities had already been completed, including the Iceberg venue for figure skating and short track speed skating, and the Bolshoy Ice Palace for ice hockey. Test events were already being held there. But there was no sign of the surrounding facilities, including the Olympic Village and hotels. The vast expanse of reclaimed land looked like nothing but an enormous pile of rubble.
"Will they make it in time...?"
Faced with the appalling state of the site, people were left speechless as they snapped photographs. It was an enormous construction site on a scale unlike anything I had ever seen. In Japan, no one other than construction workers would ever be allowed to set foot in a place like this. Yet shuttle buses kept arriving, dropping off well-dressed spectators into the middle of it all. It was a truly surreal sight.
The railway connecting the city center to the venues had only just been completed and was not yet operating. The shuttle bus was the only way to get from the city to the Olympic Park. (a sports newspaper reporter who tried to make the journey on foot was attacked by stray dogs)
Four years earlier, during the pre-Olympic season, I had visited the Vancouver Olympic venues for the Four Continents Championships. But Vancouver was an environmentally friendly Olympics that made use of existing facilities rather than constructing new buildings. This was my first time visiting a host city while preparations were still underway on such a scale. There was little to do but stare in amazement. According to a reporter who also covered the Summer Olympics, however, Athens had looked much the same a year before the 2004 Games.
"Will Sochi be ready in time?"
It probably would be. At the Russian Cup held in Moscow every year, rink maintenance continued even as the skaters began their official practice sessions, to the point where they risked stepping on hammers and nails. Yet by the first day of competition, everything would be ready and running smoothly.
In 2011, when the World Championships scheduled to take place in Tokyo were canceled because of the earthquake, it was Russia that stepped in to host the replacement event just one month later.
"I used to think Russia was the only country that could pull off something like this!" said Yuko Kavaguti, a member of Russia's national pairs team, with a laugh.
Putting those thoughts aside, I entered the newly completed Iceberg Skating Palace, the figure skating venue.
Security checks were stricter than any I had experienced before. Women underwent body searches by female security staff every day. Water bottles were inspected, and even the IC recorder in my pocket was repeatedly switched on for inspection as the guards asked, "What is this?" It was exasperating, but I suppose it could not be helped.
Inside, everything was sparkling clean, as one would expect, and the white-and-light-blue design was popular with the athletes. But why did the elevators keep breaking down when the building had only just been completed? And why were the toilet locks already broken, leaving the doors unable to close?
"Well, this is Russia!"
Faced with those words from a smiling staff member, all I could do was smile wryly in return.
"But there seemed to be so few spectators, considering the Final was being held in Sochi!"
I was asked this by people who had watched the television broadcast in Japan, but that, too, was understandable. For the people of Sochi, a city that had never hosted an international figure skating competition, the sport was not particularly familiar. Major competitions are often advertised with posters plastered all over town and banners displayed in the streets. This time, however, the only place where I saw anything resembling publicity for the Grand Prix Final was Sochi Airport. Most local residents did not even know the Final was taking place. The majority of the spectators had come from Moscow and other parts of Russia as figure skating fans, along with the devoted Japanese skating fans who travel anywhere in the world to cheer on their favorites.
As an aside, Russian skating fans are remarkably similar to Japanese skating fans. At hotels in Moscow, I sometimes come across gatherings of Russian fans surrounding Johnny Weir. The devoted fans who follow skaters all the way back to their hotels tend to be Japanese or Russian. They passionately support not only their own country's skaters but also any skaters they happen to like, regardless of nationality. Of course, they are equally enthusiastic about their own athletes. The banners displayed in the arena to support individual skaters were most numerous for Japanese skaters, followed by Russian skaters.
Compared with North America, where there are many older fans of both sexes, and China, where families come together to watch competitions, Russia, like Japan, also has a high proportion of female spectators. Yet another similarity between Japan and Russia is the occasional intensely devoted male fan. This time, on the shuttle bus, I found myself listening to a Russian male fan expound at length on his views of the skaters. Astonishingly, he even knew the point difference between Akiko Suzuki and Mao Asada at the NHK Trophy. When we expressed our surprise, he declared, “I'm Wikipedia!”
Even among Russian skating fans, however, only a limited number could make the journey from Moscow to Sochi. There were few local spectators, and the Japanese contingent was smaller than at competitions in North America or Asia. As a result, the stands looked somewhat sparse, and the military was even brought in to fill empty seats in the upper levels.
But in today's world, it is actually Japan, where arenas fill up for practically every competition, that is unusual by international standards.
Amid all this, the one thing that created an atmosphere worthy of the Olympics and lifted our spirits was the smiles of the staff directing spectators around the venue. At international competitions in Russia, staff are usually rather unfriendly and unhelpful. Sometimes soldiers with bayonets hanging from their belts patrol the arena, which can be a little intimidating.
This time, however, the volunteers who would also be responsible for security and venue operations during the actual Olympics greeted everyone cheerfully with “Zdravstvuyte!” (“Hello!”). They were already wearing the vivid official Sochi Olympics uniforms. When these men and women smiled, the place already felt like the Olympics.
There were even moments when volunteers caught athletes backstage to ask for autographs or request photographs. That, too, was part of the atmosphere. The festivities had already begun.
Although it was still impossible to see what the completed Olympic Village would look like, the designs of the venues and other finished structures were quite striking. Particularly impressive was the monument at the entrance to the Olympic Park, where five enormous Olympic rings in different colors appeared to pierce the earth. It was a magnificent sight, worthy of a global sporting event.
Once everything was finished, the area would surely create a spectacular landscape along the Black Sea.
"Doesn't it look as if an atomic bomb has been dropped here?" Even the Russians joked about the scene, though it was hardly something to laugh about. How would this place look a year from now?
After the Grand Prix Final ended, I had to remain in Sochi for about two days before returning home because I could not get a flight ticket. Flights between Moscow and Narita were not a problem, but there were so few flights between Sochi and Moscow that many people involved in the competition ended up returning home one or two days later than the athletes.
The other reporters seemed to have joined media tours to cover ski events being held as test events or to visit the Olympic facilities in the mountains. Since I cover only skating, I decided to explore the streets of Sochi as much as time allowed.
Sochi is a long, narrow city squeezed between the Black Sea and the Caucasus Mountains, stretching 145 kilometers from east to west. It is known as the longest city in Europe. The area I explored was only a small part of the Adler district, where the Olympics would be held. Apparently, when people refer to "Sochi," they usually mean the Central District of Sochi, farther to the west. According to the locals, "This isn't Sochi. This is Adler."
Even so, there was not an enormous amount to see in central Sochi either. During the Olympics, the athletes and their supporters would probably spend most of their time in Adler.
The budget hotel where I was staying did not have any maps, so I went all the way to an official hotel just to obtain one. The only map I managed to get was written entirely in Cyrillic, without even a word of English. It was a map of a city that apparently had not expected visitors from outside Russia.
"This is all we've got for now! Ha, ha, ha!" the concierge laughed.
At least he marked the location of my hotel, the way to Adler Beach and the location of what was said to be the city's largest shopping center.
As I wandered around Adler, I found virtually no Olympic decorations, either around the beach or near the shopping center, which was more like a market. The only Olympic merchandise I came across was plush toys of the mascots, a polar bear, a hare and a snow leopard, along with other souvenirs. They were on sale in beach souvenir shops and even in a corner of a supermarket, so I bought a few.
Adler Beach, overlooking the Black Sea, was less than a ten-minute walk from the athletes' hotel. It had rained frequently during the competition, and although the weather was warm, the days had been mostly overcast. But on a sunny Monday, the weather was lovely and mild.
Astonishingly, even though it was December and the tourist season was over, a few people were swimming quite happily! Others were sunbathing on the sunny beach or on the breakwater, while elderly couples strolled along and parents walked with their children. There were quite a lot of people out and about despite it being a weekday, so the beach did not feel lonely or deserted in winter.
The beach itself was not beautiful enough to be called a white-sand beach, and the Black Sea, as its name suggests, looked rather dark, lacking the bright colors of a tropical sea. But far to the west, the snow-covered Caucasus Mountains rose magnificently in the distance. It was a rare luxury to be able to swim while gazing at snow-capped peaks.
And the souvenir shops along the beach were selling Winter Olympics merchandise...
Why was the Winter Olympics being held in a place like this? It was a rather strange sight.
The town's markets and supermarkets stocked practically everything one could need, from food to everyday household goods, and the selection was more than adequate. Depending on the neighborhood, there were also convenience-store-like shops open 24 hours a day throughout the city, where most daily necessities could be found.
I looked around for something suitable to take home as a souvenir from Sochi and learned that the city was known as Russia's only tea-growing region. Krasnodar tea, grown at the highest latitude in the world for tea cultivation, was said to be almost impossible to find in other Russian cities. In other words, it might be difficult to find anywhere outside Sochi! Intrigued by its rarity, I decided to buy some.
In Russian, tea is called chai. When I asked “Chai?” in a supermarket, someone gestured for me to follow them to the tea section. But I had no idea which product was Krasnodar tea. Russians seemed to love tea, and the shelves were stocked with Indian black tea, Japanese green tea and even Chinese pu'er tea, including compressed tea in coin-shaped cakes rather than tea bags.
When I asked, "Krasnodar chai?" a kindly-looking middle-aged woman lit up with delight.
"This whole section, from here to here, is Krasnodar chai," she explained, using enthusiastic gestures.
There was both black and green tea, available as loose leaves and in tea bags. The prices were reasonable, starting at 100 rubles for 100 grams of loose tea. It made an excellent souvenir, especially since I could also share a few interesting facts about tea production in Sochi when giving it to someone.
Krasnodar Krai is Russia's leading agricultural region, so tea is far from its only specialty. Worried about vitamin deficiencies, I bought local grapes, plums and pears from a greengrocer every day. They were delicious enough to eat with their skins on. The seafood from the Black Sea was also excellent, including sardines wrapped in bacon that I ate at a restaurant.
Come to think of it, the food in general suited Japanese tastes quite well. The borscht I ate in the arena's lounge, the beef stroganoff at the hotel, and the chicken cutlets and stuffed cabbage I bought from the supermarket deli were all good.
There was also a bakery in town with a huge oven. Its freshly baked or cooled-down pirozhki, pizza, chebureki (fried pastries filled with minced meat) and trubochki (cream-filled pastries shaped like tubes) were delicious and became a great help during our demanding workdays.
There were even several decent Japanese restaurants, although, since they were not run by Japanese people, some of the dishes were rather unusual. I encountered yakisoba made with buckwheat noodles and a dessert consisting of fruit sauce wrapped in gyoza wrappers, for example.
When it came to food, Sochi seemed far less worrying than some European cities where I had had terrible experiences, or Moscow, where prices were exorbitant. As long as the athletes brought a reasonable supply of Japanese food, they would probably be able to manage for several weeks. Japanese cuisine was also enjoying a boom in Russia, and if necessary, supermarkets even sold kits for preparing sushi and miso soup at home.
When I first arrived, and throughout the hectic days of the competition, I had done little but complain. But once I got used to the place, I realized that daily life was not particularly inconvenient and the food was quite decent. Above all, the warm climate made it easier to get out and explore.
I also began to realize that the local people were as laid-back and friendly as the climate itself.
Despite being a resort destination, Sochi was visited mainly by Russians. English was hardly understood, but people were kind and made a sincere effort to explain directions or strike up conversations.
Just how little English did they understand? Even "I left my room key in my room" failed to get through. That was the situation even at the hotel reception desk.
The Grand Prix Final had brought the Japanese team, a contingent of supporters and nearly 100 members of the press to Sochi. It was probably one of the largest influxes of Japanese visitors in the city's history.
"Where are you from?"
"We're Japanese."
"What are Japanese people doing here?"
"There's going to be an Olympics here, right? This is a test event, and there's a figure skating competition..."
"Oh, it's happening now? I'd like to go!"
"Sorry, it ended yesterday."
I had variations of this conversation countless times, communicating through the one receptionist who spoke a little English. It seemed that Japanese people were quite a novelty here.
I heard that of Sochi's population of 390,000, only eight Japanese people were registered as residents. Everyone wondered where those eight people could possibly be. Despite spending nine days in Sochi, I never encountered a single Japanese resident.
It was not just Japanese people who seemed to be absent. Even Chinese people, who can be found practically anywhere in the world, seemed rare in this city. Come to think of it, I had not once been greeted with the familiar "Ni hao!"
Despite us being such unusual visitors, the locals were friendly. After visiting the same bakery and greengrocer for several days, I had become familiar with the women who worked there, as well as the woman who cleaned my hotel room.
When I showed the receptionist who had explained how to get to the beach the photographs I had taken of the Black Sea, she was delighted.
"You did it! You actually made it there!"
As I was leaving, I gave them some Japanese rice crackers and kaki no tane (small, spicy rice crackers shaped like persimmon seeds). They looked astonishingly pleased and exclaimed, "Oh! Japanese snacks!" Perhaps it was the Japanese food boom after all. I found myself wishing I had brought more.
On another day, I struck up a conversation with a mother and child I met while walking along Adler Beach. They invited me to their home, where they treated me to coffee and chocolate.
The woman was from Uzbekistan and had moved to Sochi with her family in the spring of 2012. Her husband worked for a Turkish construction company and had been temporarily assigned to supervise construction of the Olympic venues.
Their apartment was a rather lovely high-rise with panoramic views of the Black Sea and the Olympic Park under construction. We ate mandarins while she entertained her two-year-old son, Amir, and she told me about various things, including how lonely she felt because her husband had so few days off.
"When the facilities are finished, we'll probably move to Moscow as a family. Without ever seeing the Olympics."
In just nine days, simply through these little encounters with the locals, Sochi had begun to show me a more familiar face. It had become like a friend, a city that felt welcoming and approachable.
The city was still far from being in full Olympic mode. But once the switch was flipped, I was sure the locals would warmly welcome visitors from all over the world.
The athletes, too, seemed to have had little time to explore the city this time, spending their days going back and forth between the hotel and the rink. Perhaps they would return home remembering only the inconveniences and dreading the thought of coming back to Sochi.
But Sochi was simply a little shy. At first, it was wary of the strangers who had suddenly arrived. Once you got to know it, however, it would show you a bright, cheerful smile.
When the athletes returned for the next competition, to face what might be the greatest contest of their lives, a once-in-a-lifetime battle, Sochi would surely reveal its true face and help ease their tension.
From the hotel to Sochi Airport, I took one last taxi. For the same distance that I had been quoted 12,000 rubles for eight days earlier, the driver charged me just 300 rubles.
Sochi doesn't scare me anymore.
By
yuzurujenn ·
