For better or worse, the Goodwill Games have arrived. With four years of preparations behind it, St. Petersburg has given itself over totally to the two-week sporting event, and there is no way you can miss it, whether you want to or not.


Here are a few small observations on the first couple of days.


First, the city looks as neat and beautiful as it has looked in many years. Desperately trying to combat the dreary, dangerous image of St. Petersburg that the media have latched onto for the past few months, Mayor Anatoly Sobchak and his staff have done everything possible and impossible to make the city truly attractive. And they have succeeded. The streets are clean, roads have been repaired and buildings have been given a fresh coat of paint. New international payphones have been installed throughout the city center and policemen placed on virtually every corner.


Of course, some of that paint was slapped over otherwise crumbling buildings, and cynics say the paper-thin asphalt will not last longer than a few months. The Potemkin village comparison comes up in every conversation. "At least it's nice to see an old Russian tradition sustained," an American friend observed.


The opening ceremony Saturday was a festive affair, with over 70,000 spectators joining a flock of international celebrities such as Boris Yeltsin, Ted Turner, Jane Fonda and Juan Samaranch, the president of the International Olympic Committee. Most of the luminaries have since departed, however, and attendance at the events over the first few days has been dishearteningly low. A quick glance over the city, in spite of its newly imposed order and safety, does not register the crowds of tourists that the city authorities had counted on. Obviously a price is being paid for the past year's negligence in fighting crime and keeping the city decent.


Locals have found their own reasons to grumble. Sobchak's determination to put on a good, clean show has proved to be overkill for some. On opening day no cars were allowed within miles of Kirov Stadium. And an OMON trooper obediently enforcing what even he saw was a pointless ban on sunbathing outside Peter and Paul Fortress got an earful of angry feedback from would-be tanners. "Are we supposed to hold our breath until your stupid games are over?" one growled.


At the same time, one cannot help but notice the positive, if only temporary, effect that the games have already had on the city. There is hope that this may be a turning point for St. Petersburg's image problems, and that more tourists will flood into the city each summer. Even more importantly, it will reinstill faith and self-esteem in St. Petersburg dwellers themselves, many of whom have long since forgotten they live in a city worth being proud of.