Revolutionaries, guillotines and skateboarding: How the Games became a postcard

La Concorde is the square in the heart of Paris, where Marie Antoinette was beheaded. It has hosted revolutionaries, guillotines and invading German tanks. This summer it is swarming with fans of urban sports, who traipse past an ancient Egyptian obelisk to watch skateboarding or BMX.

The makeshift stands are made of scaffolding, and covered in lilac bunting. The seats are plastic. It feels a little rickety. The signs to seats contradict each other and the teal-clad volunteers (even the French can’t design stylish volunteer outfits) are still, a week into the Games, as confused as the visitors.

Anthony Jeanjean, of France, performs a trick, with the Luxor Obelisk of La Concorde in the background, during the cycling BMX freestyle men’s park final.Credit: AP

I visit on a hot day, blinded by the blazing sun that bounces off the white skateboarding course as I look for my spot. I find it. The plastic is scorching. I sit, look up, and catch my breath.

The landmarks of Paris are laid out before me like a postcard.

The Eiffel Tower is to my left, with the Seine River sparkling beneath it. The Grand Palais, with its glass roof, is straight ahead. The Arc de Triomphe is in the distance. The Luxor Obelisk, which is estimated to be 4000 years old, is so close I could almost touch it. I’m there to watch the skateboarders, but I can’t take my eyes off the view.

Paris has been dubbed the beautiful Olympics, but that word is too weak. A string of superlatives would not do these sporting theatres justice.

Not everything is working well, and at times the French seem to live up to their stereotype of style over function, but the plan to weave sport into one of the world’s most picturesque cities has been a spectacular success, leaving spectators wandering with gaping mouths through venues that vie for attention with the sports.

Clemence Vieira of Team France competes as the Eiffel Tower is seen in the background.Credit: Getty Images

It’s a wonder that the athletes themselves, as disciplined as they are, don’t get distracted. I asked that question of the beach volleyball players, as they tested the venue before competition.

Their sandy court is at the feet of the Eiffel Tower, and the landmark’s pointy head peers over the court like a nosy spectator. By day, the tower is stark and imposing. By dusk, it is silhouetted against a peachy background. By night, its lights twinkle.

“It’s so special to be playing here,” Australian volleyball player Mariafe Artacho del Solar said. “I just think the Eiffel Tower is so magical.” But once she steps onto the court during competition, “everything around me is just a blur”.

View of the Grand Palais during the men’s épée team bronze medal match.Credit: Getty Images

The Grand Palais is a short walk from La Concorde, down a manicured promenade. It’s not as famous as the Eiffel Tower, but, to me, it eclipses it. The glass-roofed beauty sits on the edge of the Champs-Elysees, and was built in the late 1800s in the style of the Belle Epoche as a monument to “the glory of French art”.

For the past week, it has been home to the fencing competition where men and women fight politely with their foils and sabres.

The sport is popular in Europe and Asia, and the crowd’s cheering echoes through the hall. I sit in the cool under the grand glass dome, watching the white, hooded figures as they duck and weave, but I could be sitting at a medieval court or an elaborate space station.

And then there is Versailles, perhaps the most magnificent venue of all. I approach the equestrian venue through the old stables, and even those give me a thrill.

Harrie Smolders of the Netherlands riding Uricas vd Kattevennen competes in the jumping team final.Credit: Getty Images

The thrill is short-lived; it’s a wet day, the paths are muddy and the queues are long. Yet again, no one could point me to the journalists’ seats. I wander helplessly from scaffolded gate to makeshift door, spotting an occasional horse through the familiar bunting and following the equestrian journalists (including one, a colleague informed me later, from famed journal Horse and Hound).

I slip into the wrong door and watch the end of a dressage routine. Then I look to my right. There, at the end of a long canal lined with trees, is the palace built by Louis XIV and restored by Napoleon in all its baroque magnificence.

Through the haze of rain I can just make out the columns and statues at the front. The palace sits at arm’s length to the sport, unlike the Grand Palais, but there are few sights as breathtaking in Europe. The riding is exemplary, but the view steals the show.

Competitors start the swimming leg of the women’s individual triathlon.Credit: Getty Images

For some events, the city itself is a venue. The triathletes dived off the Pont Alexandre III, with its lamps, nymphs and cherubs, then sped past the Le Musee d’Orsay, and the Boulevard Saint-Germain. The marathon will take athletes out to Versailles.

Not even Paris has enough landmarks to make all venues poetic. Roland Garros, home to the French Open, is an attraction not because of the building itself, but because of the feet that have trod its clay.

Bercy Arena is a building that facilitated the brilliance of Simone Biles. The pool is, well, a shallow pool (with an electric atmosphere). The Stade de France nods to Paris’ colour theme with a purple running track, reminiscent of a lavender field. It’s the first time an Olympic track has not been orange.

Alex Yee of Great Britain crosses the finish line to win gold during the men’s Individual triathlon.Credit: Getty Images

Residents of past host cities get their backs up at the claim that Paris is the beautiful Games. What about the Sydney marathon route, and the volleyball on Bondi Beach? The Parthenon towering over Athens? The beach volleyball at London’s St James’ Park?

All beautiful, but nothing like this.

Brisbane will have to play to other strengths if it wants to win hearts like Paris.

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