Respect to Japan! – Olympic Diary

Already on the penultimate day of the swimming events, it was said that Laci Cseh's career was being mourned by the powers above, so that's why it was raining. If so, by the last day of the Olympics, they were mostly saddened up there, because by Sunday it was not the Olympic buses that should have been put into service, but Noah's Ark. Obviously, we were able to put on the raincoat, no matter how much we looked like Santa and Quasimodo's love child with their backpack under the raincoat, but even than it was raining cats and dogs. Forrest Gump could have experienced something similar in Vietnam. However, in the spirit of the five rings, it was not the war, but rather the peace, happiness and love that was blurred with fatigue that prevailed in Tokyo.

And a little chaos at the end.

As the sports events were near completion, on the closing day of the venues, the smiles became (even) wider, so did the burst of applause, the selfies and the messages such as "We'll meet somewhere in the world!" By August 8, there were noticeably fewer of us left, and hardly anyone was on the buses. We arrived at the closing ceremony with an almost empty bus after the volunteers with a very exaggerated knowledge of the destination, passenger list and baggage requirements of the vehicles lined up at the Tatsumi Swimming Center saw fit to send us on our way instead of answering our questions.

We have pretty much summed up their nature: they are seeking a solution in all circumstances, even if they have no idea what to do.

So, we were loaded onto a bus that we suspected we had nothing to do on, and then headed to the Olympic Stadium. They must have thought we were part of the "Olympic family" ourselves, but no. We had a big backpack with the work equipment in it, which they told us to put in the other bus because we couldn't take it into the arena... We asked how we would report on the events then. They looked at each other in a state of fear – just like at arrival, because they wanted to send us to a completely different entrance to the stadium. We told them by following the rule that we need to go to the press entrance. They didn't know what to think of that, so they ordered the same number of bodyguards next to us as we were, and we could pass the athletes, including Bálint Kopasz, who were seated for bearing the flags. The poor man had been wilting on a camping chair for about two hours in the sweltering heat even after sunset, so he was delighted with a Hungarian word. However, the locals directed us, and we most likely went down on slopes and across corridors that we could only have gone to after national security screening, but that's how good stories form – maybe for them too.

Because, by the way, they've raised us well over the three weeks. We can guarantee that when we get home, we'll take every corner at right angles, we won't cut it, we won't go through the red light, and we'll bow both as a greeting and a tribute.

A little backwards to... all of Japan.

Translated by Vanda Orosz.