For years it has been enchanting me. With its leisurely swung pathways, mountainous meadows - almost out of place for such a flat city, and the majestic glass tents adorning the stadiums and halls. Constructed fifty years ago, the Olympic Park has been a quiet place for times of respite, favourable towards long walks with friends or alone, always a free spot to open up a book and enjoy the afternoon during a gentle summer day.
This day however marks the beginning of a two-week event, celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of this park with sports and music. The park I have known for years transformed into something entirely new. Stages have been erected, surrounded by food trucks, tents, bars, most built on land, some built on water atop stilts. Unending streams of visitors flowing in and along the pathways, the hillside facing the main stage covered with people awaiting with excitement the opening night. What have been plain green hills are now an endless sea of faces, all cheerfully chatting and bubbling and enjoying the first evening of this spectacular event.
That valley full of chatter however turned into something entirely new with nightfall: The ordinary hues of daytime turned yellow, blue, red, and violet as the tents and stages and fairy lights along the pond lit up. Music reverberated throughout the whole park from all corners, mixing and fusing and forming an entirely unique soundscape at wherever you listen. The central stage right at the ponds centre turned the valley into a single giant speaker as droning drums and bass echoed across the water, venturing even into the farthest corners.
The quiet and placid park transformed into a bubbling and colourful place of music, celebration, and expressive joy.