In my quest for books about China and dragons, I found this book at one of the local bookstores. It rang a bell, as something I had wanted to read years ago. Based on the subject matter, I was almost afraid to read it, for fear of nightmares. However, I am very glad that I did.

Continued from Hope for the Future. To start from the beginning, click here.

The Parade of Nations is one of the longest-standing traditions of the Olympic Games, and one of the most defining icons of the Games.

Procession with a Twist

This time, the Parade is a bit different. No longer alphabetical, the countries come in order of increasing script complexity of their names, written in simplified Chinese. As a result, countries whose names begin with "Ma-" found themselves near the front of the procession, the Chinese character for the sound requiring only three strokes, while the first character in the Chinese name for the United States, Mei Guo ("Beautiful Nation"), requires nine strokes, placing it far later in the procession.

As covered extensively in news outlets, Iraq's Olympic team met with dire qualification problems as the Iraqi government threatened to disband the Iraqi Olympic Committee on grounds of a violation of election procedures. Tensions were high as the Iraqi athletes, headlined by sprinter Dana Hussein, hung in limbo while politicians tussled. In the end, the Iraqi Olympic Committee held elections under the watchful eye of the IOC, and a last-minute lifting of the ban meant that 4 proud Iraqi athletes could fulfill a dream they've been working toward for 4 years.

Indicative of a newfound international political awareness, the crowd burst into thunderous applause as the team entered, giving them an unmitigated Olympic welcome.

Reactions were a bit more cautious for France. Olympic relations were a bit strained, as French president Sarkozy publicly announced a personal boycott of the Opening Ceremonies as a statement of political disapproval regarding China's human rights issues and actions regarding Tibet. As expected, this not only miffed the Chinese government, but the Chinese people as well. Taking the high ground, they ignored him. Sarkozy went back on his word, quietly rescinding his ultimatum and attending the Opening Ceremonies.

However, the 91.000-strong audience graced them with an extremely diplomatic level of applause, more than was offered for a number of other delegations.

Great applause greeted the Australian and US teams, barely a day after Bush's scathing political criticism, but the entire audience held its collective breath as the towering visage of Yao Ming appeared at the end of the Parade. Carrying the Chinese flag proudly aloft, Yao was greeted with a roar from a standing crowd. Even the cheerleaders, having maintained a dancing human wall for over two hours, perked up visibly as he passed. Soon after his entrance, he was joined by a small boy. Originally supposed to accompany Yao from the beginning of his procession, Lin Hao, a tiny Chinese hero, was initially barred from entry to the stage when a guard did not recognize the plainly dressed boy.

Lin Hao achieved instant fame in the aftermath of the devastating Sichuan earthquake, which claimed an estimated 70,000 lives, which he survived. Amazingly, the 9-year-old wriggled out of the rubble, and while injured, turned around and dug two classmates out of the rubble. Asked why he did this, he answered: "I am a class leader. I am a hall monitor. They were my responsibility." Afterwards, he led a small group of students, including his two sisters, on a 7-hour trek to Dujiangyan, maintaining a minimum of morale by singing songs.

As the procession ended, speeches were made by the president of the IOC and the mayor of Beijing, the latter highlighting, surprisingly, the "green" aspect of this Olympic Games, and emphasizing that these Opening Ceremonies represented the fulfillment of "Bai nian meng xiang": A century-old dream. His speech concluded with two phrases sure to be heard often in Beijing: "Beijing welcomes you" and "One World, One Dream" -- the namesake motto of the fuwa Olympic mascots and the official motto of the 2008 Olympics, respectively.

The Final Eight

As the speech ends, the flag of the People's Republic of China is hoisted, and all eyes turn toward an entrance to the stage, as the first of the last 8 torchbearers enters the stadium. All 8 were keystones of China's Olympic history.

Xu Haifeng: Winner of the first-ever Olympic medal for China, in 1984 for shooting.

Gao Min: One of the most well-known names in China, she won gold in springboard diving in back-to-back Olympic Games, first in 1988, and again in 1992. Widely regarded as the finest woman in the sport, she is the only female diver to score more than 600 points in the event.

Li Xiaoshuang: The only Chinese gold medalist in the men's gymnastics all-around, his gymnastics fame in China is surpassed only by the final torchbearer.
[ Update: Now one of two Chinese gold medalists in the men's gymnastics all-around, he shares the distinction with Yang Wei, the 2008 champion. ]

Zhan Xugang: Chinese weightlfters are rare, as the nation is not known for excellence in the sport, but Zhan Xugang is an exception, with back-to-back golds in Atlanta and Sydney.

Zhang Jun: The Chinese have proven themselves dominant in the somewhat eccentric sport of badminton, and Zhang Jun is one of their stars, earning back-to-back golds in mixed doubles in Sydney and Athens.

Sun Jinfang: She led the Chinese women's volleyball team to a five-gold grand slam of the Olympics, World Cup, and World Championships -- a feat unparalleled by any other team in history.

Chen Zhong: Wrapping up the list of back-to-back golds, Chen Zhong holds such a distinction in the heavyweight women's division of taekwondo, a relatively new Olympic sport and one virtually unknown in China.

As Chen Zhong mounted the podium steps to hand the torch to the final torchbearer, a collective breath was held as viewers around the world anxiously awaited the surely spectacular lighting of the Olympic torch. However, Chinese viewers were doubly excited, as the man who now held the torch is possibly the greatest sports legend in Chinese history.

Li Ning earned instant worldwide fame in 1984, when he took three gold medals, two silver medals, and a bronze medal in gymnastics, outshining his feat just two years earlier of winning six of seven available medals at the Sixth World Cup. Though Xu Haifeng holds the distinction of winning China's first Olympic medal, it was Li Ning who sparked Olympic fever and kickstarted the Chinese Olympic medal race, then went on to found the sporting goods company that makes the official clothing of the Chinese Olympic team.

Arise

In a gesture fit for a national legend, an estimated 4 billion people watched him gracefully soar into the air, high above the floor of the Bird's Nest, to pause mysteriously near the bottom of the scrim. As the crowd looked on in awe, Li Ning began running across the vertical surface of the scrim as a huge scroll symbolically sped him along. Unfurling behind him, it depicted the traditional artistic expression of xiang yun, clouds in ancient Chinese mythology which not only brought luck, but were able to bear the heroes of ancient China aloft, sending them soaring into the sky like gods.

The xiang yun bore Li Ning gracefully around the entire circumference of the Bird's Nest. But, his epic run also served an ulterior purpose. As the crowd watched his progress, the colossal Olympic torch was surreptitiously hoisted over the top of the Bird's Nest and secured in position on the scrim, near the beginning of his journey.

The engineering wizardry behind such a feat -- quietly moving a 38 m tall, 30-ton torch over the stadium and securing it high above the audience on a vertical wall -- is astounding, described by NBC's Bob Costa as "magic."

However, such a display paled in comparison to the original proposal, deemed too dangerous and complex to ensure perfect reliability.

The Bird's Nest has been used again and again in the symbolism of the Opening Ceremonies, and as a grand finale, the lighting of the torch was originally to be accomplished via an enormous phoenix, bursting with flame, flying towards the Bird's Nest to alight on its surface, lighting the torch with its body.

Even knowing this, it cannot be denied that Li Ning's aerial circuit, ending in the midair ignition of the Olympic torch, stunningly capped off a night of truly awesome spectacle in the most literal sense of the superlative. This was an event that will see no parallel for decades to come, an awe-inspiring show of what the most populous nation on Earth can accomplish with virtually unbridled vision and a relentless drive to impress a planet.

China's long journey began five millennia ago. After spending much of its history as a world superpower, it felt the crushing shame of being relegated to the role of whipping boy, ostracized and alienated not only from the Olympics, but from the in-crowd of geopolitics, pummeled by racism, political demonization, and economic exploitation. At the Olympics, it strives to show the world, and its own people, the glorious might of the world's oldest surviving nation, a people who have endured and triumphed over the full spectrum of human experience.

It is said that Napoleon Bonaparte once uttered the phrase "Quand la chine s'eveillera, le monde tremblera." : When China awakes, the world will tremble.

China has awakened.

Continued from Part 2: Glories of the Past. To start from the beginning, click here.

A dazzling recreation of an imperial theatre materializes from the stage, complete with legions of dancers, costumed and decorated in a Westernized rendition of traditional Chinese stage opera. Though curious in his choice of application, Zhang Yimou subtly demonstrates his visual fusion of cultures as an introduction to his grand act.

A herald proclaims the traditional edicts of the imperial court, and once our eyes feel fully saturated with the rich, visual smorgasbord of dancers upon a floor covered in watercolors of the ancient Chinese court, the scene disappears just as quickly as it appeared.

Our Children

A wide swath of green appears, each blade of grass swaying in the wind. At its center, a concert grand piano, rendered almost insignificant by the verdant field of humanity surrounding it. Lang Lang sits before it,

A symbol of a new China, Lang Lang is an international superstar of classical piano. He is also an embodiment of the siren song of March of the Brave Militiamen: we shall arise from hardship into glory.

Estranged from his mother and pushed relentlessly by his father, Lang Lang combated early bouts of depression and personal hardship to rise to an international stage overwhelmingly dominated by European prodigies. Inspired to touch the keys by a classic Tom & Jerry cartoon, Lang Lang began his piano education when he was 3 years old, and won his first competition at the age of 5. I myself studied classical piano for most of my life, and during a qualifying competition for the 1995 World Piano Competition at the Curtis Institute of Music, I had the chance to meet him in person, as he was studying at Curtis at the time.

Since then, I've had the privilege of seeing him in concert twice, the last time at the University of Michigan's Hill Auditorium, one of a handful of music halls in the world with perfect acoustics. In the intervening ten years, the classical music scene in China has changed immensely. As Zhang Yimou surely recognized, the man is a symbol of the cultural openness of China's revitalized youth, a generation that, supported by China's One-Child Policy, has pushed itself outside of the former confines of Chinese cultural insularity, and embraced a world of culture with an intensity that has stunned observers both domestic and foreign.

As such, Lang Lang is accompanied by five-year-old Li Muzi, only beginning her journey in the world of classical piano. The grassy field around them disperses, as if by wind, into a cloud of white light, forming a giant white dove, a symbol of the Olympics.

The lights disperse again, and swirl into human winds of change, framing a whirlwind procession of images of China's newfound openness to the West. Again, a physical manifestation of China's sociopolitical evolution since the end of Mao's reign, a demonstration and promise of hope. The performance ends with a quiet reorganization, and the dove's edges blur and collapse to form a miniature Bird's Nest, bringing us, one hour and 3,000 years later, to the present, and more importantly, to the moment of the Opening Ceremonies, seen by many in China as a spectacular introduction to true modernity.

After a moment of peace, a kite appears. Contrary to NBC's commentary, Beijing has never been known as the City of Kites, though kites often fly over Tiananmen Square, flown by young and old alike.

As we are distracted by the colossal kite, a forest silently appears beneath it, unveiling two masters of the ancient discipline of taijiquan (taiji for short).

As much a mental discipline as it is a physical discipline, taiji is widely practiced in China by both young and old as a way to keep fit and build mental balance. Ambient nature sounds fill the stadium as the forest pulses around the taiji masters, symbolizing the traditional unity with nature that taiji is fundamentally based upon. Taiji has, at its core, the principle of action without effort. In high-speed battle forms, taijiquan's fluidity of movement and lack of straight-line force serves to transform its practitioners into constant manipulators of opponents' joints and movements, emphasizing the rather counterintuitive concept of action through relaxation. As a martial art, taijiquan is based upon deflecting, exploiting and initiating attacks by flowing around opponents and redirecting their energy against them, a self-defense discipline based on unity rather than opposition.

As the forest fades away, the two masters are joined by a legion, 2008-strong, of expert students of the ____— wushu school, a major martial arts school near the legendary Shaolin Temple which teaches a combination of traditional taijiquan and Shaolin-style bare-hand wushu.

This becomes apparent when their wondrously coordinated routine seamlessly changes pace, blending in the trademark hand slaps, fast multidirectional straight-line palm techniques, and flying falls of Shaolin-style wushu. Moving with stunning physical and temporal precision, the 2008 dancers use no floor markings and no central direction, relying on nothing but a hyperawareness of the practitioners around them. Forming a perfect circle around a circular staging area, the practitioners at once represent one of the oldest Chinese symbols of unity and harmony, and create a protective shield for the children who appear within, a pear orchard utopia in miniature.

Rebirth

The backpack-wearing schoolchildren, led in a lesson by their teacher, raise their voices in song:

The climate has warmed
The ice floes have melted
The farmland has shrunk
The birds have disappeared

We have come to plant trees
We have come to plant grass

As water swirls around the Nest, projected onto the scrim, the children splash a wondrous color palette upon the shan shui hua, transforming it not only from a classical representation of ancient tradition into a modern expression of the joys of children, but a metaphorical transformation that China's growing environmental awareness aspires to.

As color is restored to the shan shui, the children and taiji performers look aloft, playing the role of humanity, having worked hard to restore beauty and prosperity, looking expectantly to await the return of the birds.

And return, they do. In what can only be described as an emotional outburst, a teeming multitude of multicolored birds races upward across the scrim of the Nest, representing not only a glorious return of natural prosperity, but China's escape from the nest of its own insularity.

In every possible way, the Olympics truly is a turning point for the nation of China.

Three taikonauts descend from somewhere above the stage, dimly lit, floating in space. China is immensely proud of its taikonauts -- "taikong" is the technical term for "outer space" -- who made possible its membership into an elite international club: spacefaring nations. They are the beginning of what China hopes will be an extensive space program, spearheaded by the Chang'e 1 Plan -- China's Apollo program. Reaching towards Earth, we find the Earth also reaching up towards these taikonauts. Hoisted by no powered machinery, the Earth rises via pure muscle power as 100 stage hands silently lift the globe 20 meters in 40 seconds. Composed of a translucent membrane stretched over nine bronze rings connected by high-tension wire, the globe expands from a compact, flat disc into a gigantic spherical lantern, supporting the artificial weight of 40 performers held tightly against its surface.

As Sarah Brightman and Liu Huan, a new Chinese music phenom, take a lofty stage and begin their duet, 2008 smiling faces materialize around the lantern globe assumes the image of the Earth. As joyous music sounds, the smiles spread, infectiously, to the scrim of the Bird's Nest, speeding to surround the audience with a universal, albeit cliche, symbol of hope and joy.

At the apex of this buildup, the air around the Bird's Nest explodes with what is by far the most spectacular fireworks display I have ever seen -- and I still remember the millennial New Year's celebrations. Waves upon waves of crimson and gold might stand on their own at any other venue, but this is the finale to the artistic portion of the opening ceremonies, and they serve only a supporting role to the vast array of fireworks vying for our attention above the Bird's Nest. As if we required any reminder, the five Olympic rings explode in fiery glory amidst the display, hinting at the grand venue of the colossal spectacle.

The main spectacle was over, and China was rightfully confident in its ability to dazzle the world. For all of its symbolic exhortations of unity, harmony, and hope, though, the artistic performance could only metaphorically refer to those concepts. The Parade of Nations would demonstrate them.

Continued in Part 4: An Awakening.

Boston.com has a beautiful photo gallery showcasing some of the best scenes in the Opening Ceremonies.

For more Olympics coverage, drop by the Olympics group.

Continued from Part 1: A Joyous Celebration.

A scroll unfurls in grand fashion, as if by magic, revealing a blank canvas amidst a swirling menagerie of traditional Chinese patterns.

Paper

Arguably the most important and most famous of China's great inventions, paper brought about an intellectual revolution. Before paper, the Chinese were no strangers to flexible printing media. While Western nations recorded their lives on papyrus and parchment, Chinese royalty and nobility wrote their records upon scrolls of fine silk, or juan.

Cai Lun served the Emperor from 105 A.D. till his death in 121 A.D. It was during this time that wood-pulp paper was born. A cheap alternative to silk, it soon found widespread appeal among not only royalty and nobility, but among the lower class. It hailed a paradigm shift in the social order, as literacy was no longer a privilege of the rich and powerful, slowly finding its way into the minds of countless lower class.

Dancers appear, alighting upon the blank paper scroll like the mao bi brushes of a group of artisans. One of the wenfang sibao, the four treasures of the scholars, the mao bi, accompanied by the yantai (ink slate), juan (silk scroll), and zhang (seal) formed the cornerstones of learned Chinese society. These were the weapons of knowledge, the tools of art. While rich in sculpture, relief, and a myriad array of other art forms, Chinese culture places waterbrush painting in a unique position of great artistic esteem.

A painting is not simply a visual product, but a fundamental expression of the artist. Each brushstroke tells a story, a work of art in and of itself. The most famous form of waterbrush painting is the shan shui hua, an emotional expression of the stunning beauty of China's lush riverside cliffs. A single brushstroke can at once define an entire mountain and a single leaf, each stroke an expression of not only the artist's skill, but of his vision, his emotional connection to the subject of his work.

As such, it is fitting that the Opening Ceremony employs people as the brushes themselves, flowing across the paper, composing a quiet symphony of ink. The first strokes feel almost calligraphic as the dancers let their vision slowly unfurl like a new flower, soft swirls of tumbling water, spilling from an unseen cliff. Bold strokes announce the presence of distant mountains, a symbol of the grandeur of the artist's vision, and uniting shan and shui, completing an epic, though simple, vision of one of China's most prized legacies.

Their strokes are accompanied by a virtuoso on the gu qin, one of the oldest instruments of traditionally pentatonic Chinese court music. This particular instrument is itself a piece of history. Crafted during the Tang Dynasty, it is the famed millennium-old Taigu Yiyin -- a Chinese Stradivarius, an instrument without equal. The notes plucked from it are traditionally inspired by the Confucian principle of harmony and the Taoist principle of following the flow of nature, a powerful and subtle testament to the aspirations of the Chinese people.

As the stage is bathed in radiant gold, a lone brush ventures forth, and with a single bold stroke, creates the final piece of the shan shui hua: the Sun.

Printing

The scroll gives way to zhu jian, a predecessor of both silk juan and paper, dating to before 400 B.C.

Surrounded by the legendary 3,000 disciples of Confucius, led by a royal herald chanting the lun yu -- the original words of Confucius -- the massive bamboo slats give way to one of the most stunning performances of the ceremony, and another of China's four great ancient inventions: movable type.

Invented concurrently with paper, movable type printing allowed the easy reproduction of countless ancient works: books of philosophy, great literary masterpieces, medical texts. However, while paper gained widespread adoption almost immediately, the use of movable-type printing remained a luxury of the nobility until almost a millennium after its invention.

As the text rippled, the massive LED screens to either side echoing their movement through rippled water, mirroring the sometimes-fluid sometimes-chaotic evolution of Chinese script. Suddenly, the waters calm, and he, harmony, appears in a form common to the most ancient Chinese script known. For simplicity, it is often defined as "harmony," but in subtler literary usage, he describes "harmony within, and peace unto others." As it fades back into the sea of time, a second character appears, this time, the classical zhuan ti (round script) form of "harmony." Finally, as the seas boil and crash, the modern form of "harmony" appears, flanked on either side by its ancient counterparts, a symbol of China's union of past and present -- a physical representation of the Taoist wisdom of "he xie shi hui", a harmonious society with the peace and power of flowing water.

A line winds its way across the type blocks, extending onto the scroll as a stunning rendition of China's most famous achievement: Great Wall of China. The Great Wall, or Chang Cheng ("Long Fortress Wall"), was created to rebuff the invasions of Mongol hordes. However, it lost its military utility after the Mongols breached it, then instead of a cultural erasure, assimilated themselves into Chinese culture, a curious process later echoed by the Manchurians of the Qing Dynasty.

Out of respect for Manchurian cultural edicts, Han China relinquished control of ancient Manchuria, extending all the way to Lake Baikal, to the Manchus, who claimed it to be their ancestral birthplace. This left it unprotected by the might of the Han army, and was absorbed by Russia in 1858 under the Treaty of Aigun. The region changed hands again during World War II, as the Japanese seized the region from the Russians. Under Stalin, Russia regained control of the region, now the home of Vladivostok and Khabarovsk.

Another transformation occurs. The Great Wall is symbolically swept away as peach blossoms burst from the type, blanketing the stage in a wondrous explosion of pink. While beautiful in and of itself, the peach blossom holds deep significance in Chinese philosophy. A peach blossom arbor is a traditional symbol of utopia, a place where one can isolate oneself from the vigors and ravages of the imperfect world, and reflecting inwardly in the tranquil beauty of the peach blossom.

As this image stamps itself into the collective psyche of the audience, 2008 performers burst forth into this grand utopia, unveiling possibly the greatest surprise of the ceremony: there was no machinery moving the blocks, there was no computerized wizardry. The flowing sea of time was created using hydraulics of muscle, bone, and sinew.

896 moves. This was the full extent of the performance just witnessed. Practicing for almost a year, the 2008 performers, each almost exactly 1.7 m tall and of consistent body weight, drilled their routines endlessly, to the point where the entire performance was an exercise in muscle memory, muscles which moved with inhuman coordination up to 1.5 times per second.

The scene fades away as Zhang Yimou allows the audience time to let this astounding realization set in.

The Compass

Before we even catch our breaths, the stage is reset, and a lone dancer appears in green and gold, surrounded by her flowing robes carving graceful lines in the air around her to the ancient song, Yang guan san die, its lyrics derived from a classic Tang Dynasty poem of farewell, by the esteemed Wang Wei.

Update: This dancer was the first alternate for this performance, trained in the event that the primary dancer fell ill. Tragically, during a late trial run, the primary dancer stepped off of the shan shui hua, and onto thin air, as the secondary tier was out of sync. Falling 3 meters, she landed on a steel support rail, instantly paralyzed from the neck down.

Supported by a human multitude representing the people of China, the dancer stands upon the shan shui painting created just moments before, and while beckoning the world to China, fades offstage, replaced by China's greatest ancient explorer: Zheng He.

"Zheng He xia xi yang": Zheng He explores the sea to the west.

Making his first Pacific journey in 1405, Zheng He made a total of seven expeditions into the Pacific, reaching modern-day Mozambique on his last journey in 1430. Unlike Columbus, Zheng He's goal in exploration was not trade, nor was he striving for conquest like Magellan. Rather, his explorations were intended to be a grand tour created expressly to showcase China's might and bring Chinese innovations to the nations of the world, such was China's might at the time.

He appears surrounded by thousands of performers comprising his fleet, his journey guided by the compass, or zhi nan zhen (south-pointer), in his hands. China's traditional compasses have always been in the shape of soup spoons, as Chinese soup spoons balance naturally on a single point, providing a convenient, near-frictionless pivot upon which the compass can freely spin.

As his fleet sails around him, the roiling Pacific ocean appears above the audience, projected onto the scrim of the Bird's Nest. As we look on, the ships ripple into colossal oars, continuing the theme of unification as a fleet of individual ships becomes a team of oars, which in turn, becomes the hull of Zheng He's flagship, a cohesive unit surging towards greatness.

Gunpowder

Throughout the opening ceremonies, the Chinese have lit the sky on fire with firework after firework. Using a total of 33,866 fireworks, China punctuated every celebratory gesture with a dazzling demonstration of the last of their four great inventions: gunpowder. From giant's footprints to smiling welcomes, from a spark of life to seemingly endless showers of bright crimson and gold, China has shown that fireworks are still very much in its blood, and that it is still innovating in an art it had mastered long ago. The Opening Ceremonies marks the world debut of caseless microchip-controlled fireworks. Due to the relative fragility of the Bird's Nest's scrim, the Chinese used compressed air cannons, not explosive rockets, to launch its full complement of fireworks. Detonation altitudes were precisely controlled by firework-mounted microchips, resulting in a firework display with unmatched precision and perfect safety.

However, a very different set of fireworks held far greater, albeit invisible, significance for the Olympic Opening Ceremonies.

Beginning at 4 pm, Beijing time, on 08.08.08, the Chinese military initiated an artillery bombardment outside the southwestern limits of Beijing. The Chinese were determined to guarantee the success of their extravaganza, acts of nature be damned. Over the course of eight hours, straight through the Opening Ceremonies, the Chinese military fired 1,104 artillery rockets into the atmosphere outside Beijing, stopping an intensifying thunderstorm in its tracks. As dazzling fireworks held an audience captive, a dimmer fireworks show was holding nature itself captive far outside the Bird's Nest. As the Opening Ceremonies concluded, the crowds dispersed, the Chinese finally loosed their reins, and rain poured across Beijing.

Continued in Part 3: Hope for the Future

For more Olympics coverage, drop by the Olympics group.

15,000 performers.
300,000,000 dollars.
The greatest spectacle the Olympics has ever seen.

A Joyous Introduction

The Opening Ceremony announces itself with panache: a flame ignites, racing around the Bird's Nest, leaving a trail of sparks and dazzled eyes in its wake -- a dimming of the lights, only ten times more effective. Streaking across the stadium, it seems to ignite the stage in light as it echoes the impression China will strive to make on the Olympic stage.

Our eyes are drawn to the stadium's stage as 2008 drummers, 2008 soldiers of the People's Liberation Army, materialize from the darkness in a cascade of light, flowing seamlessly from that first ignition. China has repeatedly declared this opening ceremony the most spectacular in Olympic history, and with the first thunderous roar of the drums, it shows us it aims to make good on its promise. Fou drums, a traditional Chinese instrument dating back three millennia, is its expressive medium of choice. Dated to 500 B.C., the earliest fou drums were little more than low-grade food and wine vessels, fired from clay. Fou vessels played double duty as rhythm instruments for those too poor to afford the woodwinds and string instruments of the nobility. By the time B.C. became A.D., fou evolved into specialized instruments, and came into their own as an instrument of primal expression, their pounding a symbol of the common man whose use spread throughout every social class. Just before the Qin emperor unified the warring states of China, it was the fou drum which set the beat of his royal edicts and his consultations with royal advisers.

The roar of the drums fade and the waves of light decay until the stage is darkened in anxious silence, a breath that the nation has collectively held for a century.

A number appears, shining in stark elegance as a precise array of incandescent drums: 60.

As it disappeared into the darkness, a new number was assembled: 50.

40.

30.

20.

Mandarin characters seamlessly appear above the Arabic, noting China's late entry into the modern world.

10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.

A Thunderous Welcome

The Bird's Nest explodes in cascading rings of fiery light, glowing crimson and gold, the traditional colors of Imperial China, exclamation upon exclamation of unadulterated joy melded with a joyous remembrance of China's mighty imperial days. China has always been proud of its ancient history, and this occasion is better than most to showcase such pride in spectacular fashion.

As if taking a breather, a cool blue bathes the stage, but the ecstatic celebration misses no more than a beat as the drummers raise their arms and voices.

A master of balancing gravitas with theatrics, Zhang Yimou created the drum setpiece, like the entire Opening Ceremonies, as a bridge between cultures. The performance is a jigsaw puzzle of cultural tributes: their foreheads streaked with red, an ancient tradition of southern China, their ritualistic dances a hallmark of northwestern villages along the Huang He, China's mighty Yellow River, and their ritualistic chanting a staple of many ethnic minorities. These combine in one display, in one body, each drummer a representation of the joy heard by the unified voice of the Chinese people.

A primal heartbeat echoes through the stadium as the drummers' hands pound upon their instruments, creating a spectacle of sound and light alluding to grand celebrations in both the ancient imperial court and the farmer's field. As light pulses across 2008 drums, their voices rise in a forceful chant of the words of Confucius: "You peng zi yuan fang lai, bu yi le hu."

"Friends have come from afar, we are overwhelmingly joyous."

Journey of a Giant

Footsteps ring out across Beijing, emblazoned across its sky like impressions stamped into the heavens. Twenty-nine Olympic Games. Twenty-nine steps. Each progressing more chaotically than the last, a methodical stroll snowballing into a furtive rush towards the Nest. As much a physical progression as a temporal and cultural progression from its fall from grandeur, to self-imposed ostracization, to a joyous return, and finally to the present day -- its conclusion announced by a spectacular shower of gold, enveloping the audience in a long-overdue, albeit exaggerated, display of pomp.

Not only a symbol of China's Olympic aspirations, but a remarkable show of humility and respect, portraying all of Chinese history as but a journey to this moment -- not just the Olympics, but this moment in every facet of China.

Peace & Unity

The explosion condenses towards the stage, coalescing into a blue fountain of light, focusing its exuberance into a scintillating core, fading to reveal a delicately brilliant rendition of the five Olympic rings, over 40,000 LEDs glittering in inky blackness, a transition as abrupt as any in the ceremony.

Apsara, or feitian in Chinese, flit across the stage, representing one of China's great ancient philosophies: Buddhism. With its sisters Taoism and Confucianism, Buddhism has shaped China's history -- helping to define its reign as an ancient superpower. One of the greatest relics of ancient Chinese Buddhism resides inside the Dunhuang Caves -- the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas. Nestled within shrines carved in the 4th century A.D., hidden in desert cliffs along the Silk Road, frescoes and statues of Buddhas and feitian cover the walls, bringing peace and happiness to over sixty generations of only the most devoted pilgrims. Symbolically bringing peace and harmony to the Games, the feitian frame the rings as they slowly levitate, coming to float silently in midair, a quiet reminder to China as much as to the rest of the world, of the grand event that is underway and all that has led up to it. It hangs motionless: a moment of peace, a gesture of respect towards the symbolic significance of the Olympic Games, before the relentless tide of celebration inexorably pushes the spectacle towards yet another sensory overload.

Crimson and gold, symbols of Chinese greatness, bathe the stadium as a child's voice rings out, accompanying a procession of small flag bearers who have materialized at one end of the stage. Representing the 56 ethnic minorities of China, the children walk across the stage, their faces and strides filled with nervous excitement.

Ethnic minorities have been woven into Chinese history since before its First Emperor. Political alliances were often forged between minorities through marriage, the most famous of which was the marriage of Princess Wencheng, an adopted daughter of the first Tang emperor, to Songzan Ganbu. Ganbu, a Tibetan hero, sent a marriage proposal via messenger to the princess with, among other treasures, a quarter-ton of gold as tribute. According to legend, the Emperor devised a series of physical riddles to determine the worthiness of the political alliance.

The messenger completed the riddles, and the marriage proposal was accepted, uniting Tang China with ancient Tibet.

"One World, One Dream" is the theme of this Olympics, so it comes as no surprise that, with every act, Zhang Yimou's masterpiece reiterates the overriding declarations of unity, hope, and progress.

56 symbols cross the Bird's Nest.
56 ethnic minorities clutching a single flag.
56 pairs of bright, glittering eyes and 56 smiles representing the future of China, and of the world.

The flag is passed to soldiers of the People's Liberation Army -- a gesture as incendiary as it is grand, as controversial as it is poignant. The passing of such symbolic leadership and control sends a dual message: one of solidarity with Western concerns and an affirmation of China's self-defined will.

March of the Brave Militiamen

The anthem tugs at the heartstrings of every Chinese citizen over the age of 15. March of the Brave Militiamen is at once a celebration of the Chinese will, a reminder of its painful recent history, and a most potent symbol of nationalistic pride.

Written during Japanese invasion in World War II, the song was at once a battle hymn and message of hope. However, the anthem has long since transcended such historical trappings, and has become a universal expression of the Chinese condition. It is hopeful, but not exuberant. It is a call to action, but also a simple declaration of hardship.

One thing is clear. China has taken its core refrain to heart: Arise! Arise! Arise!

[ continued in Part 2: Glories of the Past. ]

For more Olympics coverage, drop by the Olympics group.

A summary of the questions posed by the Newsvine community, and the corresponding answers provided by Adrienne Mong, NBC News' Beijing Producer. Thanks for the opportunity, Adrienne.

If you are planning to fly over the Thankgiving holiday, be sure to figure out if yours are part of the 70-or-so airports that have whole body imaging (WBI) machines.

We hear it in the news, we see photos of the result of it and tombstones are left in the wake of it.

A couple of weekends ago, I took a day trip down to Wightman's Farms in Morristown, NJ for a bit of typical fall fun: corn maze, random pumpkin stuff, and apple picking. There aren't any photos of apple picking because I was too busy, well, picking apples.

Enjoy.

Foto-Friday is a feature of the NV Photography Group:http://photographers.newsvine.com/

Greetings, fellow Viners! This is my first Foto-Friday, so if there's a guideline I'm not following, feel free to let me know.

Anyway, I took a trip up to Lake Placid, NY (in the Adirondacks) this past weekend. I didn't have much time to venture out of the town, so I got what I could of the fall foliage transition (and some photos by a small lake in the area). Enjoy.

In my quest for books about China and dragons, I found this book at one of the local bookstores. It rang a bell, as something I had wanted to read years ago. Based on the subject matter, I was almost afraid to read it, for fear of nightmares. However, I am very glad that I did.

You know?, seems like every time there is a news article that has to do with gay people we have to face yet again the slew of stock comments from the opponents of gay marriage. I thought, what better time to address some of those stock arguments that they always mention.

Whale Wars From A Fisherman’s Perspective (What do you think of the Sea Shepherds?)

It's official, I despise GAY MEN. For that matter, I don't really like GAY WOMEN either. Amazing fashion sense? Ecstasy filled orgies? Great hair? I want it all.

Though the traditions have slipped for music and movies, I'm keeping the faith for the old annual Newsvine Decides columns. For Gamevine, that means picking the best Games of the Year for 2009.