LAUSANNE — Less than six days ago I was still in Beijing, stuffing my suitcase with Olympic t-shirts and other knickknacks, trying to come down from an exhausting two weeks. This morning I saw stacks of that exact same officially licensed merchandise being sold in the Musee Olympique gift shop for three or four times the price. I didn’t come here to shop though.

To be honest, I’m not sure what exactly brought me to the Olympic Museum. I love museums and I’ve had an Olympics fetish for as long as I can remember, but just wasn’t in the mood to wander about five marbled stories of Olympic memorabilia. Seeing the speedos of a gold medal-winning swimmer whose name escapes me didn’t seem that important, and I assumed that photos of Katarina Witt’s Playboy shoot wouldn’t be a part of any multimedia display.

Nor was I in the mood to spend time browsing the museum’s current temporary exhibit which focused on Beijing 2008 (through 26-Oct). Even the best that the IOC museum staff could muster wouldn’t remotely compare in size, scale and scope to everything that was on display in the Chinese capital. I was tired and simply Beijinged out. All was passé. No thanks. Maybe next time. Nor did I have the energy to have this kind of fun in the sprawling Olympic Park, delicately carved into a beautiful hillside that gently rolls northward from the shores of Lac Leman.

So I dozed instead on one of the park benches near this reassuring sculpture by Carl Fredrik Reutersward (which I also saw a version of in Gothenburg a few years ago) until I was woken up by a passing couple feuding loudly in Serbian; she calling him a bastard, he calling her a bitch.

At last, I thought, I’m in Europe, I’m home.

The museum grounds suddenly seemed friendlier, more inviting, bristling with life. The leaves on the trees swayed back and forth in unison with the couple’s exchange, which reached its crescendo just as a strong gust of wind blasted the shore of what Deep Purple called Lake Geneva. After a slight pause, the man looked the woman in the eyes, exclaiming, “Oh, how I just love my little bitch!” She smiled, and just before looking away, uttered a playful “fuck off” in his direction. A peck on her cheek followed, they joined hands and began walking towards me. Both glanced my way briefly as they passed, smiling, her dark eyes glistening as her long straight brown hair fluttered in the wind. Even without ice skates and a revealing tight-fitting top, her resemblance to how I remembered Katarina Witt was uncanny. My reason for visiting the museum was finally realized.

The library in the museum’s basement level houses some 25,000 books and journals, and was conveniently empty of researchers on this Sunday. The librarian, perhaps bored or lonely, was all too eager to offer any assistance I required.

“Is there anything specific I can help you find?” he asked.

I wanted to say that I’ve always been an admirer of Witt, but couldn’t manage to come up with anything that didn’t come across as stalker-like, so asked about the museum’s stamp collection instead.

After browsing a bit on my own, I made my way up from the basement towards the museum’s main exhibit rooms. Surely the two-time Olympic champion, Socialism’s most beautiful face, left something for the museum’s collection.

The second from the last level is divided in two, the right portion devoted to the summer sports, the left half winter. I walked towards the left. And in the midst of the collection of antique cross country skis, old skates and bobsled uniforms of yesteryear, was that shiny, provocative and evocative blood red dress Witt wore when she defended her Olympic title in 1988 in Calgary. It had an almost flimsy, ethereal beauty, as if it could melt to the touch. Among other things, I pictured her trying to climb into a Trabant without the dress getting caught on a renegade screw or protruding bolt.

Witt was involved in the official grand opening of the museum in the summer of 1993; since, about 200,000 have visited annually. The first level houses an extensive history of the Olympic movement, from ancient Greek artifacts, to mementos, souvenirs and memorabilia from each edition of the Games.  Its holding of art is impressive as well, particularly the extensive collection of sculptures that are scattered throughout the surrounding park. Among my favorites was this piece by Fernando Botero next to the terrace restaurant.

Open daily year round, admission 15 CHF (9.40 EUR)

[18 photos of the Olympic Park are here] [Official site] [wiki]

Olympia, originally uploaded by pirano.