Dom Joly: They tell me it's Beijing, but it could be Des Moines

My plane to Beijing took off from Toronto in a carnival-like atmosphere. There were a lot of Cubans who had been unable to go through the States, a highly excitable bunch of Brazilians taking endless photos of each other and, at the back, a handful of Canadian Sikhs singing a very loud and pretty tuneless song. We were definitely on our way to the Olympics. I spotted my first Olympian as we flew over the Arctic. She was representing Canada in the high jump and all six foot seven of her was squeezed into an economy seat. It's all right if you're Roger Federer and have the money....

Ironically, Toronto was one of the cities that was beaten by Beijing for the Games, but no one that I'd talked to there seemed to mind that much. The general view was that it would all have been "a bit of a hassle".

Beijing, on the other hand, is definitely in a state of major euphoria. For them, the Games put the "Middle Kingdom" firmly on the world stage. Hundreds of eager young volunteers meet arriving passengers at the airport with scary smiles and direct them very efficiently to the right coach going to the right hotel.

As I exited the building I was assaulted by a wall of humidity – a thick, sticky heat that overcomes you in seconds. I was the only person on my bus and we sped into the city past vast traffic jams in a special "Olympic lane". I can't wait to see how London drivers, already at boiling point, deal with these when they are imposed in 2012.

After half an hour my bus turned off the highway and into the sealed off Olympic Area. It's like a modern Forbidden City – layer after layer of security and fencing that shrink slowly around the nexus of the Bird's Nest stadium. I got off at the Media Press Centre, a huge complex of air-conditioned corridors and vast hangar-like rooms where thousands of journalists from all over the world are probably writing exactly the same thing as me. I searched for somewhere to get a coffee and a bite to eat.

I was directed to the Media Food Court in the basement. This was another huge room that resembled one of those Mövenpick restaurants where every corner is serving a different world cuisine. The Asian corner had an unbelievable queue, as did the Mediterranean, but nobody seemed interested in the Balkan cuisine, so I got some dumplings and a shot of plum brandy before sitting next to somebody from the Mongolian Olympic squad. In the distance I made out a queue of Americans at the McDonald's franchise.

The whole place made me think of the Green Zone in Baghdad – an enormous moveable city that could be in Des Moines, Iowa, for all I knew. I wondered whether Halliburton had got the contract to do this one, as well?

Knackered, I eventually found my hotel room and was delighted to find that it had a view over the stadium. I couldn't actually see it, because of the thick smog, but the bellboy pointed it out, so I took his word for it.

I turned on the television. In the Green Zone, unlike the rest of residential Beijing, you can get CNN, so I watched some guy do a live broadcast from Beijing. Half-listening, I headed for the shower and looked out of the window... and there he was just below me... very weird.

I thought about breaking out of the Green Zone and hitting some bars, but I had to be professional and get some sleep. I'm competing in the 300 metres on Tuesday and want to be fighting fit.