The Olympic Village building assigned to Spain sits adjacent to Italy’s apartments, along Rue Volta in the northern Paris suburb of Saint-Denis. Algerian flags are draped outside the windows of the bottom floors of Spain’s space: the two Olympic delegations, which include athletes, coaches, and some medical and other staff, are sharing digs. Hungary is housed right next door: “Success,” reads a banner that hangs down the nine-story structure, “is in us.”
[time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”]On Tuesday, inside the 53-hectare Olympic Village, which stretches along a trio of municipalities—Saint-Ouen, Saint-Denis, and L’Ile-Saint-Denis—Paraguayan judoka Gabriela Narvarez gets her nails painted in the red-white-blue triband style of her country’s flag. Two Brazilian coaches play pop-a-shot in a game room. Eight Irish women’s rugby players return from a baguette-making session. They’re enjoying their wares.
Katie Ledecky, the seven-time Olympic gold-medalist swimming superstar who will be a centerpiece of NBC’s first-week coverage the Games and whose face has been plastered all over the network’s promotions for their $8 billion investment into the Olympics, files out of the dining hall along with dozens of Olympians from around the world, totally unbothered. No bags are allowed in the Olympic Village dining hall—what, are the athletes going to steal pastries?—so Ledecky has to retrieve her stuff at the drop-off point, just like anyone else, and stand in line with far less famous athletes from Israel and San Marino.
The Olympic Village is buzzing again, a very welcome sight to see. During the last two Games, in Tokyo in 2021 and Beijing in 2022, COVID-19 protocols restricted activity and interaction in one of the world’s simultaneously intense—there’s plenty at stake for Olympians—and festive gathering places (the athletes need to unwind, especially post-competition). In pandemic times, the Olympians isolated from one another and were pretty much ordered out of town once they crossed the finish line. Now they get to stick around and revel in the five-ring circus.
(Except for the poor Australians, whose Olympic committee is requiring the athletes to vacate the village 48 hours after the competition in their sport ends. Officials claim there aren’t enough beds for the wave of athletes who come in to compete during the back end of the schedule and that partying swimmers who are done the first week would be distracting to the other Australians. “After you’ve worked so hard to go to the Olympics, to be removed from that entire environment as soon as you finish, I just think that it’s a bit of a rip-off,” 400-m freestyle world-record holder Ariarne Titmus said earlier this year. Titmus declined to answer any questions about the village when approached there on Tuesday.)
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At New Zealand’s residential lounge–which features cushy beanbag chairs, a display of the traditional garment, or kakahu, worn by recent Olympic flag bearers, plus games like Monopoly and Jenga–a rep from the delegation shows me a table where local candies and coffee are available, before she spots a bowl of condoms next to the Kiwi treats and quickly removes it. “We probably don’t want the condoms near the food,” she says, placing them on the floor.
Air conditioning has been a contentious issue coming into these Olympics. The Paris organizers created a water-cooling system in the buildings that would keep the rooms comfortable—and limit the carbon footprint of the Games. But many delegations, including the United States, Great Britain, Hong Kong, Italy and Norway, didn’t trust that the system would work in the Paris heat. And brought their own AC units into the village.
About the room temperature, “for us, it’s OK,” says Krishan Bahadur Pathak, an Indian field-hockey player. “But we’re from India. We’re always hot.” Olympic Village director Laurent Michaud says that athletes from several delegations, satisfied with existing conditions, have set aside their ACs. (He wouldn’t say how many or specify the countries.)
Food is always a hot topic at the village. Fare at the dining hall, housed in what was once a power plant, then a film studio, has received so-so reviews. “It’s not Michelin-starred food,” says Christopher Ruehr, a German field-hockey player. “It’s OK, I guess.” Perhaps more concerning, an outdoor stairwell connecting the dining hall to a residential zone is far too narrow; athletes, some very large and hankering for a meal, have to squeeze by each other in what should be a one-way path. “Please hold the stairs railing,” a sign warns.
Here’s hoping I’m far too anxious about this village quirk. But if your favorite Olympian stumbles on the stairwell, you heard about it here first.
The main restaurant is open 24 hours and will serve 40,000 meals per day, according to Games organizers. Other village facts and figures: the 28,000-square-foot village fitness center has six saunas—three for men, three for women—but if space gets crowded, priority access is granted to athletes who need to cut weight to compete. Eleven laundry facilities are spread throughout the village: nearly 18,000 pounds of wash will be processed per day.
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At the southern end of the village sits the multifaith center, where there are dedicated spaces for Muslims, Jews, Christians, Buddhists, and Hindus to say prayers. But all are welcome. “We’re here for anyone who may need a listening ear,” says Tenpa Rabgye, a Buddhist monk who typically lives in a monastery in the South of France. “Maybe we can help someone get through a tough time, when they’re feeling pressure.” One athlete visited the Buddhist area at lunch, Rabgye said.
He should expect many more as the Games begin.
Less spiritually minded Olympians can mosey over to the Village Club, right on the Seine, to relax. There, they can hit up the Disconnection Bubble, a screenless area with massaging seats. The club also has an outdoor bar—serving free zero-alcohol Coronas—and lounge chairs for relaxing. A crew of German athletes seemed quite pleased with the location of their housing in the village: around the corner from the Village Club, near the water, and a short walk from the dining hall. They may feel differently once the Village Club gets pumping.
At no point, however—not even on the last night of the Games—will the Club fridge be stocked with full-alcohol beers. Athletes must import their booze into the Village. The opening ceremonies haven’t even started. But Olympic drinking will commence soon enough.
