Abstract

As Essex and Chalkley observe, ‘as the [Olympic] Games have grown in size and stature, so increasingly they have left a discernible physical imprint on the host cities’ (1998: 203). As regards Stockholm and Helsinki, however, the imprint is more than simply physical. Inevitably the memories conjured up by these stadia are akin to Marcel Proust’s moments bienheureux, bathed in ‘Joycean half-light, soft and ill-defined, even open-ended’ (Lennon, 2007: 55). They also rely heavily on stories that have been passed down from one generation to the next. Nevertheless, the physical presence of each stadium is sufficiently unchanged as to allow these memories to flourish even in a much changed world and in significantly altered cityscapes. The fact that they remain constantly in use for various purposes also ensures that individual memories are rooted in the immediate past as well as in the stories of old. When Fairley and Gammon refer to lived experience in the context of sport tourism, they have in mind experience that ‘separates participants on both time and space from their everyday fives’ (2005: 192). It is important to recognise, however, that the Olympic stadia of Stockholm and Helsinki, replete as they are with memories that summon up earlier eras and other lives, are part of people’s everyday experience. They are seen by many on a daily basis and are recognisable by many more as significant urban landmarks. Even writing about the legacy of these sites runs the risk of reifying them in such a way as to obscure their truly organic relationship with their respective cities and their citizens. (Wörtliche Textpassage / Fazit)