Sport: The Scene a /a Mexicono

OLYMPICS fans arriving in Mexico City may have picked the best time ever. True, the balmy days are marred by just a touch of smog and the brisk evenings by a faint drizzle. But the city has never looked better. The preparations, of course, were carried out a la mexicana—with the in evitable, exuberant last-minute scramble to get a job done on time. The citizens proudly feel that it was their test, and they made it. Mexico City, scrubbed, brash, vital, is as bright and gay as a piñata party.

The one ugly cloud hovering over the games—student unrest—seems to have diminished. Troops still occupy the Santo Tomas campus of the National Polytechnic Institute, and police lurk in the hills surrounding the sports sites. The students are still bitter over government suppression of their protests, a small war that has claimed some 100 lives in the past two months. Nevertheless, the students, too, have caught the Olympic spirit. Said one youth: "It may seem difficult to understand, but we're all for the Olympics. The games will go well."

Following the Lampposts. Customs officials rush to their posts in the airport, smile and wave tourists toward Mexico City. Along the way, brilliant banners flap from lampposts. In town, op-art posters, balloons and signs give a carnival gaiety to the street scenes; many billboards have been papered over to proclaim an Olympic theme: "Everything is possible in peace." Even the shantytowns look good. Inhabitants were given buckets of free paint, and they responded with a typically Mexican gusto. Some shacks wear bright stripes, others have blazing coats of lavender, green, or orange.

In Mexico, it soon becomes apparent, nothing succeeds like excess. Color not only decorates, but explodes, whether in specially planted flowerbeds or in the elaborate symbol and color-coding system that the Mexicans have devised to guide tourists to the games. All that a person going to the basketball games in the Sports Palace has to do is hail a cab bearing the basketball symbol or follow the green lampposts. To Mexico City's normal generous supply of 20,000 taxis, 3,400 special volunteer cars have been added, all color-coded to designate their destination.

Bewildering Streets. But such efficiency goes only so far. Traffic is not just slow; it is torpid—and with the influx of Olympics visitors, it may well come to a halt at times. The trip from downtown hotels to the games used to take 30 minutes; now it takes at least an hour. Yet few of the 135,000 tourists seem to mind. For the extravagant Mexican sense of politeness is heightened by the Olympics. There are 900 pretty, miniskirted, multilingual girl aides standing ready to help bewildered tourists and foreign officials. Even Mexican motorists have shifted attitudes. A jaywalker used to be maimed almost inevitably; now he can cross the street and get only a muttered curse from drivers. Contrasts are the essence of the Mexican scene. The highest skyscraper, the 43-story Torre Latino Americana, rises a scant six blocks from the vast Zócalo public square, fringed by the cathedral, begun in 1573, and the 17th century Palacio Nacional.