The last batch of Russian athletes on February 2 goes to the Winter Olympic Games, which will start two days later in Beijing. The men’s hockey team leaves Moscow on a charter flight. The rest of the Olympians have already arrived in China. There they were met in the scenery from disaster films.
Only athletes, coaches and journalists are allowed into China
In itself, a trip to the country from where the coronavirus that tortured the entire planet began is a quest that only a few can complete. For example, the delegation of the entire vast Russia – 461 people. Exactly so many names were included in the official application of the ROC Team – it is under this brand that our Olympians will perform in Beijing.
This includes 213 athletes and coaches who joined them, staff, doctors and employees of the Olympic Committee. Plus, in a separate line, journalists covering these Games. Nobody else was allowed into China, which had long been closed off from the rest of the world due to the pandemic.
Two weeks of PCR tests
Remembering the Olympics in Tokyo, where the participants had to deal with a bunch of bureaucratic requirements, the entry procedure was promised to be simplified. Apparently, the Chinese and I understand the meaning of this word differently. Because in addition to accreditation, which is equivalent to a visa at any Olympics, everyone needs to download a special mobile application 2 weeks before departure.
Every day you need to keep a health diary, upload a QR code about vaccination and a bunch of different information. Then you need to pass two PCR tests, fill out a separate questionnaire for the health code and for Chinese customs, wait for the approval of all documents from the local authorities and present all this magnificence at check-in for the flight. In general,
they “facilitated” the procedure in such a way that many colleagues, especially those who do not speak English (of course, there is no Russian language in the application and questionnaires), had an attack of panic and hysteria in advance.
Sticks for tests broke right in the nose
But this is just the beginning of the adventure. The airport of multimillion-dollar Beijing now, in principle, looks like everyone around has died out – at the “sleeves” of the international terminal, five planes are parked, no more. Dear guests are met by several figures in white overalls, which are explained only by gestures – faces are not visible behind plastic protection and hoods.
The feeling that you are not at the airport, but in the “red zone” of the covid hospital. Obviously, any foreigner here is perceived precisely as a potential carrier of a terrible infection, and not as a participant in a sports festival on a planetary scale.
In the meantime, the white pieces are showing – sit down here, wait. Only after gathering together all the passengers of the Moscow flight, the little men wave in the direction of a handful of terminals. Say, go for coupons. By attaching a passport, in response, everyone receives a personal QR code – where without it in our time! With a treasured piece of paper in your hand, you stomp on the main procedure – PCR testing.
Cotton-tipped sticks are not just driven through the nostrils and palate, as we have. They are thrust as deep as possible, until there is a burning sensation in the region of the brain and tears in the eyes. One colleague was not as lucky as possible – from diligence, the girl broke the wand right in his nose. I had to get the scraps with tweezers – the picture is not for the faint of heart.
“Plague” suitcases
Having packed our biomaterial in test tubes with some kind of pink liquid, the Chinese comrades push it further. We quickly activate accreditations, go through passport control and go down for luggage. It is not given out on the usual tapes in a separate room, but is unloaded in some kind of dim back room into a common pile. Local citizens don’t touch their suitcases out of harm’s way – figure out for yourself where whose luggage is here.
The final stage of the meeting is to receive stickers with numbers that are written by hand with felt-tip pens. Each official hotel of the Olympics – you simply won’t get into others – is located on a certain bus route. Having identified the destination from the list, you will find out exactly which number you need. Then we load onto buses, and leave the airport in a column.
Fence, police and a ban on going out into the city
The whole procedure takes an hour and a half. Very cheerful, because in the summer at the Tokyo airport we were kept twice as long. But it’s too early to rejoice. The Japanese at least reported the results of PCR tests on the spot, while the Chinese are in no hurry with the tests.
At the hotel reception, everyone’s passports and accreditations are taken away and quickly scattered around the rooms. It is forbidden to leave until you receive a phone call. On average, after 3-4 hours, a fateful trill is heard from each arrival.
“Congratulations, your test is negative. Welcome to China! You can pick up the documents and move around the hotel, ”is heard on the other end of the wire. This means that for the next three weeks I am a full-fledged inhabitant of the Olympic bubble. Who has the right to drive only on special vehicles strictly to the venues of the Games.
A deaf high fence enclosing the territory of the hotel, and a police squad on duty at the gate around the clock, they say better than any words – running away from such happiness is useless. As a bonus, daily PCR tests in the morning and the mandatory wearing of masks in any public place are included.
Hello, new era Olympics!
Ivan Ilyin, Moscow – Beijing
