Village Life: An Orwellian Fantasy

In addition to covering events on the slopes and rinks, TIME Staff Writer Philip Taubman explored Innsbruck's Olympic Village, a cluster of high-rise apartment buildings, shops and dining facilities that serves as home for some 2,000 participants and coaches at the Winter Games. His report:

On the surface, it is the realization of an Orwellian fantasy, a chilling page out of Nineteen Eighty-Four. To avoid the kind of terrorist attack that killed eleven Israelis in Munich four years ago, the Austrians constructed what they hope is a guerrilla-proof village. To the athletes checking in last week, initial impressions were unnerving: an 8-ft.-high chain-link fence surrounding the compound, electronically wired to set off an alarm at the slightest touch; a main gate guarded by submachine guns; and a gauntlet of identity checks by sentries, who bark at athletes, "Show me your pass." Says Italian Figure Skater Susan Driano: "I was shocked when I arrived. It looks like a P.O.W. camp." Go a few steps inside the bleak main gate and the mood changes dramatically. There is dancing nightly to the driving beat of rock music and strobe lights in the recreation center's Club Intersport discotheque; upstairs, a movie theater is S.R.O. Village swingers, meanwhile, gripe about an 11 p.m. curfew and the strictly enforced regulation that men cannot enter women's residences. "This would be a great place," quips British Bobsledder Tony Norton, "if it weren't for the Olympics."

One thing no one complains about is the food--unlimited quantities served almost non-stop from 6 a.m. until 1 in the morning. Not that all nations settle exclusively for the house menus: roast duck with chestnuts, or grilled tournedos with tarragon. The French, Italian and Swiss teams all brought their own chefs.

Irony is another staple in the dining room. Superstars like Austrian Downhill Winner Franz Klammer get asked for autographs by other athletes, and the Russian hockey players, who are years older than most of the competitors, are looked on with awe. For the rest, the comfort of familiar faces appears to mean more than opportunities for international fellowship. The Swedes, in their yellow and blue, do not blend at the same table with the Rumanians in red. Nor do Americans eat with Russians. In fact, U.S. figure skaters do not sit with the American bobsledders; American skiers do not even know the speed skaters. "I guess it seems crazy," says U.S. Figure Skater Linda Fratianne, "but the only people we know are the ones we've been training with."

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