With a little more than a week before the Summer Games kick off, last-minute preparations at the Olympic venues have reached a frantic pace.

Construction crews scramble around the clock, erecting queue lines, testing the stability of newly built bleachers, and making clutch-time readjustments on electric wiring and fluorescent lighting.

Alongside the construction teams, an army of migrant workers and service crew work tirelessly to beautify Beijing. Small pots of fresh flowers decorate every street corner. Every gray median strip has been transformed into an island of color, with peonies, lilies, and chrysanthemums providing a sudden burst of nature in the heart of the city.

New statues and commemorative plaques have been unveiled. Outside all the major subway stops and shopping malls, great metal structures display athletes frozen in play. Nearly every sky scraper is plastered with huge billboards boasting Yao Ming’s smiling face or the Olympic Rings.

The Games’ official mascots – five small, furry, annoyingly cute cartoon drawings known as the Fuwas – are ubiquitous. Every 10-year-old girl has a purse, shoes, and water bottle decorated with their likeness, and every taxi-cab is proudly decorated with a Fuwa sticker on the dashboard.

The mounting preparation, however, reaches beyond the superficial.

The Beijing Olympic Organizing Committee is well aware of the stinging criticism of China’s environmental woes, and it has stopped at no measure to ensure that these Games live up to its billing as the “Green Games.”

In addition to the all-encompassing effort to paint the city green with millions of well-placed potted plants and manicured hedges, the Beijing government has launched several initiatives to improve the air quality and reduce the catastrophic traffic congestion.

Starting early last week, an alternating, even-odd license plate enforcement went into effect, in which one day, only cars with license plates ending in an even digit are allowed on the road, and the next day, only those that end with an odd number.

Environmentalists have estimated that up to 40 percent of Beijing’s air pollution is caused by vehicle exhaust. Theoretically, cutting the number of cars on the highways by half should have a precipitous effect.

Indeed, since the ban started, the traffic flow has been freer. During rush hour, the major roads are still clogged with honking cars and trucks spewing black smoke, but what was a 45-minute taxi ride has been reduced to 20. A bus ride that would have taken an hour now takes about half-that.

And, as the Olympic Committee and Beijing government works tirelessly to ensure that they are regarded as competent hosts, their guests are beginning to arrive.

The Olympic Village, where most of the athletes and coaches will live and train, officially opened on Sunday. It’s a state-of-the-art, sprawling complex complete with several McDonald’s, cost-free massage parlors, and newsstands stocked with The New York Times and USA Today.

It’s still a little early; most of the foreign journalists, athletes, and spectators won’t arrive until just days before the final torch is lit.

But after spending a full month in Beijing, I know that the second they step off their plane, they’ll be welcomed into a carefully constructed world that’s only as Chinese as they’d like to make it.

The loud talk about the impossible adjustments to foreign customs, strange food and embarrassing sanitation facilities is mostly mute. In Beijing, Olympic travelers will be pampered with Big Mac’s, Starbucks coffee, and high-speed Internet. They won’t even have to pick up a pair of chopsticks if they don’t want to.

Those who wish to experience traditional food and ancient culture will have to veer away from the track that’s been painstakingly constructed just for them. To see the real China, they’ll have to peek under the curtain and look back stage. Away from the Olympic Village, they’ll find alleyways teeming with snack-food vendors, traditional courtyards and ancient pagodas.

It’s an experience they can’t afford to miss.