On the way in, you see a man on a ladder, fixing something. This is a common sight: Last-minute touch-ups have been a feature of Olympic Games for seemingly as long there have been screwdrivers. But the list in Sochi seems extraordinarily large. There are unopened boxes of heating and air-conditioning parts and other essential hardware all over the place. On Sunday, a man in a lobby was drilling into a ceiling, working above and just to the left of a blinking Christmas tree.

A Christmas tree?

“It’s Russia,” said one of many young women who work here. She shrugged.

As an all-purpose explanation for many of the head-scratchers here, “It’s Russia” will do. It would have been a good answer when this reporter woke his first night, at 3 in the morning, to find a man with a Scandinavian accent in his bedroom. This gentleman wanted to know why someone was sleeping in the suite he had been assigned to and for which he had been given a key.

Fair question, and just one of dozens raised by these accommodations. When will the elevator start elevating again? Why is the word “Mystery” on the bottom of the television? Is that the brand name? Or a sly invitation to wonder why it does not work? And finally, when will the front desk have a system so that it does not give out keys to occupied rooms?

After breakfast, jump on a bus to the main media center. Like much of this city, the bus has the Sochi Olympics slogan emblazoned on its side: “Hot. Cool. Yours.” It sounds like a second-place pitch for the McDLT, the short-lived McDonald’s sandwich that promised to keep the burger side warm and the lettuce side chilled. The drive takes you past the odd insta-metropolis that this area has become, a hodgepodge of old churches, sleek industrial office buildings and freshly paved highways. You also pass a lot of dirt fields, dotted with newly planted trees, kept upright with twine.