The party is over. The visiting army of fans, athletes, coaches and journalists that have been camped out in Beijing are taking to the skies and going home. The expected crush at the airport hasn’t materialized. The roads were clear heading out to the new Norman Forster confection on the outskirts of the city – it’s an odd number day on the roads – and the check-in queues no worse than a busy public holiday. The flight delays however are another matter.

There’s certainly a morning-after the night before feel and some far-away looks on many faces, preparing for long-flights home. Bodies are tired from over two weeks of watching, reporting and competing, compounded by the final blast of celebrations last night. And most people would agree it has been a blast, and the final hit of fireworks after the closing ceremony a fitting end.

The Bird’s Nest was so locked-down before and during the closing ceremony that it was difficult getting within half a mile of the stadium without official security passes. Around the perimeter areas, locals families and fans without tickets found positions to get a glimpse of the stadium and fireworks, or watch what was happening inside on the gigantic TV screens on Pangu Plaza that towers next to the stadium.

After the hand-over ceremony between China and the UK – this time going in Britain’s favour  – its London’s turn to be the holder of the Olympic flame.  There may be a feeling of burn-out here, but in four years time most foreign visitors to these Games will be ready to do it all over again in London.

BEIJING, China - With just a handful of positive doping cases so far in the Games, professor Arne Ljungqvist, the IOC's Chief Medical Officer is a contented man. Content that the IOC's anti-doping program is catching drugs cheats and that the fight to rid sport of illegal performance enhancing substances is being won.

Arne Ljungqvist: Helping change the attitudes about drug doping in international sports.

"It will take a generation to change attitudes," he says from the IOC's main encampment in Beijing - three floors of an enormous hotel complex that has also been home to the IOC's "Olympic families" for the past 17 days.

"People involved in sport from countries where doping used to be routine, like in Russia and Eastern Bloc countries are still around and still working in sport as coaches and working closely with athletes.  It will take a generation to create doping-free environments for athletes."

As we talk, Jacques Rogge strides past, toward his office and a member of the CCTV crew waiting nearby leaps out of his seat to hail him: "Mister President!"

"Mister President" Rogge had said before the Games he expected there to be about 30-40 positive drugs incidents during the Beijing Olympics. Ljungqvist believes their anti-doping methods are working and acting as a good deterrent, which is why the number of positive results so far is so much lower than Rogge's prediction.

Between 4,500 and 5,000 tests will have been conducted on athletes by the end of the Games - twice as many as Sydney in 2000 - and despite the contrary opinion of many within sport, Ljungqvist believes that they are effective enough to catch athletes who use human growth hormones that are harder to trace than other substances.

Ljungqvist is also charged with making sure the Games are conducted in good health all round - from the city's air quality to encouraging a healthier lifestyle in Beijing even after the Games have ended

As for McDonalds as a sponsor, he has no problem with them as an Olympic partner, believing they still have an image problem rather than anything else. 

He's also hopeful that the work done to make the air cleaner and city's streets more pleasant will continue.

The factories that have been shut down since the end of July to help reduce city smog are supposed to stay closed until after the Paralympics. Whether they will or not after most world's media leave Beijing remains to be seen.

BEIJING, China - While Usain Bolt is holding court in front of 20 TV cameras, Ricky Simms sits at the back of the darkened bar, his eyes darting around the room.

In the shadows: Ricky Simms is working 9-to-5 at the Olympics, 20 hours a day, that is.

He's the figure standing in the shadows, the man behind the man: Usain Bolt's manager since 2003. He can't help but smile when talk of cashing in on Bolt's current superstardom.

"It's certainly true, now is the time to strike when the iron is hot," he says while triple gold-medlaist Bolt languidly replies to another question from the floor about his Olympic performances.

Simms is not quite Tom Cruise's character in "Jerry Maguire," although the haircut is similar. The young media-savvy Irishman who has a background in sports coaching and management, prefers to think of himself more as an Alex Ferguson-type of person. One, that like the Manchester United manger, nurtures the talent and looks after their well-being as well as showing them the money.

"Athletics managers are quite different to football managers, as well as maximizing their earning potential we also look after the day-to-day stuff, like where he stays, how he travels."

Taking care of Bolt's business has almost become a full-time occupation since the world record-breaking performances.

"He's the man of the moment," he says, "but it's important that I look after our other clients, too, put my arm round the ones that haven't done so well and say, 'hey, next time.'"

With around 30 athletes on his company's books, keeping everyone happy and making sure that he can put that comforting arm around all his charges has almost been an event of Olympian proportions.

His days have started around 9 a.m. and finished at about 5 a.m. the next morning.

"It's been hectic, after the events the athletes go through the mixer; they go through drug testing and I'd have to accompany them through that and take them back to the village. With Usain there's a lot of media hype and everywhere he steps out there's 20 people [who] jump on him looking for autographs. As well as meetings, I have to take athletes to their sponsors."

As the press conference ends and the music is cranked up, Simms jumps out of his seat. "Is Usain dancing?" he asks. With that he was off to make sure his golden boy was doing the right thing and will continue to do so.

BEIJING, China - The city has been plastered with Olympic decoration, from the Beijing 2008 flags that line the eight-lane highways, to the mascots that appear on billboards, shop fronts and as temporary tattoos on fans.

Beijing's Ritan Park offers a peaceful break from the Olympics-fever in China's capital.

While they'll all still be up until after the Paralympics, many of Beijing's parks have provided a break from the mass bombardment of Olympic decoration and branding.

Even though the Games are in their final throes, a visit to Ritan Park on Saturday morning revealed the side of Beijing life that outwardly couldn't give a hoot about the Olympics.

Only some strategically placed Fuwa in a shrubbery gave any hint that the Games were happening.

No one was even sure where the "protest zone" was in the park, as no one has protested there throughout the Games.

There was even a surprising absence of community security volunteers - locals keeping an eye out for anything amiss, easily identified by a red armband and a watchful eye. For all the visible and smiling Olympic volunteers, these other volunteers have been observing both locals and visitors alike.

The only hint of a protest be found was between some mahjong players, as the usual pursuits of tai chi and post-prandial strolls took place much like during any other sunny weekend.

Others made the most of the good weather by hitting the beach. It might be nearly 100 miles to the Yellow Sea, but Beijing's Tuanjiehu park attempts a bit of Bali, albeit with a fun slides and a wave machine.

Not quite Venice beach when it comes to beautiful bodies, it's a popular spot for Beijing families and a few expats beach bums, desperate for some sand between their toes.

If anyone had been inspired by Michael Phelps or one of China's myriad of diving medalists it wasn't showing. With the Games winding down, it's time to relax.

BEIJING, China - British rower Peter Reed looks a little bleary-eyed when we meet on Friday morning. Three hours sleep and the gold medal in his pocket explain the reason why.

"It's gloves off and enjoy yourself, now," he says while gently sipping water in a café around the corner for the Athlete's Village.

While there are still some athletes competing, it's clear that the atmosphere in the Athlete's Village changed from the site of professional dedication and focus to something more like a university campus at the end of term.

Since his win in the coxless fours in the rowing competition, there have been plenty of late nights for Pete and his crew to go along with all the press events and conferences.

As for GB team rules: "Just respect the other athletes who are still competing, and don't get arrested," he jokes.

The British block is next to the Brazilians and Swedes and everyone rubs along pretty well, he says while the café’s waiting staff come over for photos with Pete and his gold medal.

"The Kiwis have a whale of a time, the Aussies and Americans, too. It helps speaking the same language, but we can go out and have fun with the Chinese, speaking the international language of having fun and dancing."

It's understandable that after four years of dedicated training and self discipline, cutting loose from the strict regime leads to a heady atmosphere.

"We've got a nocturnal lifestyle now. It's so, so far away from what we do normally which is training seven days a week, in bed by 9.30 p.m., getting up at 5.30 a.m. It's a world apart but so much fun."

Sometimes too much fun. While athletes train to perform feats of physical endurance, speed and strength it seems they're not always too well prepared for a big night out.

"I came back at close to 6 a.m. a couple of nights ago and I had to step over athletes who hadn't quite made it back to the Village. They'd staggered out of the taxi but hadn’t quite able to get their accreditation out and pass through security."

He was too diplomatic to say from which country they came from, demurring to at least say they came from Asia.

As for activities in the Village: "It's an amazing place to be. It's going to sound a bit pervy, but the swimming pool in the Village is incredible, there are the most amazing bodies lounging around by the pool, it's like a music video."

A slightly freaky one, perhaps.

"There are incredible athletes from different shapes and sizes, from different nations. Guys that are nearly 8 feet tall that tower over me and girls that weigh about 35 kilos (77 pounds). It's all completely different, very nice to see and a crazy place to be."

In a place that has such a high concentration of perfect physical specimens, the Games have been renowned for the socializing between athletes to become even more intimate - 100,000 condoms were supplied to the Village at the start of the Games.

"100,000?," he laughs. "I reckon it's just the Kiwis making water bombs out of them and chucking them out the windows at the support staff. That sounds like a good night out for them."

BEIJING, China - Yang Haisong, founder and lead-singer of Beijing indie band P.K.14 couldn't care less about the five-ring circus that's come to his city. Any why should he? The Olympics, it's not very punk is it?

Xu Bo, left, and Yang Haisong of P.K.14: Charting Beijing's teenage wasteland.

"They're about politics and commercial opportunities, everything but sport," he tells me as we sit outside some gleaming new towers in the city's charmingly named Central Business District.

The bespectacled 34-year-old songwriter and poet is a long-time resident of the city and someone who taps into the rhythm of the city more than most.

"Things are a bit crazy now in China, it's a bit of madhouse. The rhythm of the city has got faster. Every six months things are changed, and the last year with the build up to the Olympics it has been even more," he said, lighting up a contemplative cigarette. 

Just three years ago the skyscrapers looming above us were an architect's blueprint, and the transformation of the Beijing music scene, with new bands springing up all over the place, has been just as startling.

Yang and guitarist Xu Bo aren't sure if the changes are for good or bad. But things are certainly different both in the city and with the new bands that are emerging.

P.K.14 stands for Public Kingdom of Teens, but even though they're part of an older generation - the band has been playing since 1997 - Yang's devotion to the ethos of freedom of expression and music is as strong as ever.

"Really you can do whatever you want, there's more freedom now than 10 years ago," he said. The only threat of censorship from the authorities would come if there was swearing in the lyrics or singing about sex. 

"For a musician you just have to sing about what you want and pretend that the boundaries don't exist."

Some of his contemporaries have had the metaphorical clamps put on them because of the political content of their songs, but Yang hasn't experienced that. For him, everything is political and criticizing the government isn't the way in which he expresses his views about society.

But the anti-commercial attitude that P.K.14 and many of their contemporaries had is missing from today's bands

"It's just normal for bands today, consumerism and a commercial world is what they're used to," he said.  

Yang and P.K.14 have just finished a tour with one of the latest Chinese bands that are getting increasing international recognition, Queen Sea Big Shark. The tour was sponsored by Converse.

"It was a chance to tour and connect with other bands - that's the kind of DIY ethos we like," Yang said. Far from selling out, he and the three other members of the band all have other jobs as designers and writers.

Friendly and chatty Yang speaks excellent English but sings in Chinese simply because he can express himself better.

Many of the new bands sing in English, Xu Bo said. It's more a trend thing, says Yang, they can choose to be more international. But he doesn't judge if that's necessarily a bad thing, as long as they have something new to say. Whether they do or not is another matter.

After another cigarette and the feeling of being squeezed on a tour bus for two weeks still in his bones, Yang's choice was to call it an early night and look forward to a new tour in September.

BEIJING, China - It looked as if Yelena Isinbayeva's corporate obligations and the media-merry-go-round had taken it toll more than winning her gold medal on Monday.

No automaton: Winning Olympic gold is still a thrill for Yelena Isinbayeva.

She arrived at the enormous media center next to the Bird's Nest Stadium for her Talk Asia interview in denim skirt, flip flops and a grey T-shirt. It wasn't the tsarina of the pole vault but more a quite ordinary, but slightly tired, 26-year-old.

Perfectly ordinary, apart from the touch of bling watch on her wrist and, of course, her incredibly honed physique - she could probably crack walnuts in the bend of her knee.

Wearing dark blue nail polish, she unconsciously clutched her gold medal during most of the 30 minutes that CNN had with her.

Soft spoken and initially slightly bashful, she opened up as the interview progressed. As much as she's had plenty of practice talking about herself recently, it was clear it wasn't a tricky topic for her.

What did she think of her rivals? Her piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly, her soft  Russian accent snapped as she said, no, she had no rivals. No, no one could compare in her sport. True, she had beaten her nearest competitor to gold by a mile in pole-vaulting terms, but it was a rare glimpse into the steely competitor she is.

The only other question to get a similar intense blue stare was when asked what it felt like to be compared to Maria Sharapova. More than anything the dismissal of the question was because no girl like to be compared to others, "we all want to be the best in the world."

She batted away accusations that she only breaks world records when she wants and does so for financial rewards - it seemed a well practiced answer. If nothing else, she's a woman who knows what she wants and when it comes to her sport at least, knows how to get it.

For someone at the top of her game who dedicates their life to training and competing., there were heartening glimpses that she wasn't a sporting automaton.

She giggled like a school girl at a few questions from CNN's John Vause, and was relaxed and happy talking about her family, upbringing and sister back in Russia. Most of all she was still genuinely excited to have won her second gold medal, even if she and rest of the world knew it was almost a forgone conclusion.

Her tanned, pendant wearing agent looked on throughout proceedings occasionally checking his BlackBerry. London 2012 was too far away for her to think about, he said, and now he had to get her back to the Olympic village and on the 29^th back into competition. There was just time for a can of drink before she was off to pole vault another day.

BEIJING, China - Brazil v. Argentina. Even at the Olympics, there's nothing amateur about the professional rivalry between these two countries, especially on the football pitch. So the last-minute offer to watch them play each other in the football semi-final couldn't be passed up, even if I was in the wrong part of town and there was only 15 minutes to kick-off. 

A familiar Olympic refrain: Brazil's football fans had little to cheer about against Argentina.

I'd arrived in the city only a few hours earlier, but sure enough had found taxis to be cheap and plentiful, but myself bearing-less and armed only with a few words of mandarin and a shabby map.

Flagging down a passing cab, I pointed to the stadium on the map. The driver grabbed it, squinted so hard at it he looked pained before saying "bye bye", deciding he couldn't make out the detail of where I wanted to go. Better to find another taxi than be propelled through the streets by a myopic cabbie.

There was more success with the next cab who swept through the streets and within minutes we were in the back of a traffic jam crawling up to the stadium that was already packed with fans. I intimated we should follow the police car, lights flashing, that was slicing through the congestion. A ruefully smile and shake of the head; it was time to make a run for it. 

I was slowed by gaggles of elderly locals practicing their ballroom dancing on the pavement slowed me down. As unexpected as they were sprightly their two-step meant I had to cha-cha around them, making my entrance to the stadium coincide with the referees whistle for half-time.

There was no samba-beat in the second half, as Argentina eventually romped to a 3-0 win, but there was a whole lot of enthusiasm from the crowd. The Workers Stadium really was where South American football fans of the world were united.

Football demi-god Diego Maradonna was in the crowd, too, and a roar went up when the little chap was shown on the big screen - an uneasy smile on his face, he was either very excited or going to vomit, or both.

The cheers for Argentina's goals from the 50,000 supporters probably would have been just as loud if the score had been the other way around, but even in defeat the few Brazilians in the crowd did what Brazilians do best, and carried on enjoying themselves.

Not so, Brazil's Ronaldinho, who looked befuddled and depressed after the final whistle; he'd been eclipsed by Argentina's young maestro, Messi. Maybe the Brazilian playmaker had seen the geriatrics outside the stadium display better footwork, as well.