Beneath the veneer of the Eiffel Tower and Grand Palais, Paris had a problem

France is the home of the Michelin Star, so it was fitting that they installed Michelin-starred chefs in the kitchen at the athletes’ village during the Olympics. The country’s cuisine is lauded globally, and organisers promised “a very French touch”.

Hopes were high among ravenous sporting folk that a mess hall replete with truffles, guinea fowl and crayfish jus would be a highlight of the Games.

Instead, it was the epicentre of complaints. The food was cold, athletes said. The British complained about uncooked meat. A much-proclaimed emphasis on sustainable plant-based meals left athletes hungry for protein. British swimmer Adam Peaty said there were worms in the fish. “A disaster,” said the German men’s hockey team.

“They started running out of food,” said Australian tennis player Daria Saville on social media. “Some nights, I’d just have canned tuna and rice in the Australian building.”

There’s an old cliché about Europe that goes something like this: in heaven, the couturiers are French, the mechanics are German, and everything’s organised by the Swiss. In hell, the French are the mechanics, and the Italians are the organisers. During the Paris Games, the French skirted close to their stereotype of style over substance; they may have hosted the most beautiful Games of the modern era, but there were some mechanical failures under the bonnet.

An early example came during the opening ceremony. Having a pink-and-white-clad Moulin Rouge troupe performing the can-can on the banks of the Seine was a beautiful idea, but their performance was uncharacteristically messy. The mortified dancers later took to social media, explaining organisers had offered no wet-weather contingency. When it rained, the cobblestones turned into a water slide. “It was low legs, or we went for a swim,” said Canadian dancer Allie Goodbun.

The plan to run races in the river became its own kind of messy dance. Cleaning a waterway that’s been too toxic for a century was an admirable but risky ambition that made headlines for months. Organisers had no contingency plan other than to delay (which they did) or cut the swimming leg altogether. They stared down the weather, the bacteria levels, and athlete uncertainty and eventually prevailed, with caveats: athletes from Portugal developed gastrointestinal infections.

Problems at the village emerged early, too. The organisers had wanted to avoid carbon-compromised eggs and meat but, within a week, had rushed truckloads of them to the village amid howls of protest. “Tokyo, the food was incredible, Rio was incredible,” said Peaty. “But this time around [there] weren’t enough protein options, long queues, waiting 30 minutes for food because there’s no queuing system.” Australia’s Saville tried the Michelin meals, but they were too small. “They were spectacular, but you’d need 14 of them right now to feel full,” she said.

The athletes complained about the beds, too. The frames are made of cardboard, and the mattresses from recycled materials to help achieve a promise to halve the amount of plastic used by London in 2012. Yet it came at the cost of comfort, which is fundamental to athletes competing at the highest level. “They suck,” said gymnast Simone Biles. Not even mattress toppers provided much extra comfort. “Already had a massage to undo the damage,” posted Australian water polo player Tilly Kearns. US gymnast Frederick Richard bought his own mattress while American tennis player Coco Gauff packed up and went to a hotel.

Italian swimmer Thomas Ceccon was photographed taking a nap on the grass and later explained that he found the ground about as comfortable as the beds. “They’re a bit hard, a bit narrow, and a bit small,” he said. He blamed tiredness for missing his final and complained, “There’s no air conditioning in the village, it’s hot, the food is bad”. The village was designed to maximise natural cooling, but richer countries brought their own air conditioners.

Britain’s Peaty was also critical of the focus on sustainability, too, reflecting the views of others who have privately wondered whether environmental proselytising was prioritised over athlete comfort. “The narrative of sustainability has just been pushed on the athletes,” he said. “I want to eat meat. I need meat to perform, and that’s what I eat at home, so why should I change?” The subtext: the French weren’t terribly generous hosts. Former Australian swimmer James Magnussen agreed. “The lack of world records boils down to this whole eco-friendly, carbon-footprint, vegan-first mentality rather than high performance,” he said.

Lofty environmental goals fell short in other areas, too. Water and soda fountains were promised at venues, so spectators could fill a reusable cup costing two euros. But Coca-Cola, an Olympic sponsor for almost 100 years, had installation problems. At most venues, the plastic cups were filled from plastic bottles. The head of Zero Waste France, Barine Bonavita, was among the vocal critics. “Taking a plastic bottle and pouring it into a plastic reusable cup is not our vision of zero plastic,” she said.

Paris’s venues have rightly been praised across the world: beach volleyball under the Eiffel Tower, skateboarding at Place de la Concorde with its postcard views, and the equestrian centre staring down the grand canal to the Palace of Versailles. But the temporary stands at these sites were also deeply impractical because there was no shade. Sweating spectators were blinded by the baking sun, and journalists struggled to see their computer screens or touch their overheating keyboards.

They may not be loved, but journalists are important at the Olympic Games; they’re the lens through which the Games are broadcast to the world. “This is utterly hopeless; I’ve never seen conditions like this at an Olympic Games,” grumbled one US journalist from a major newspaper as they sought shade under the desk to send a report to their millions of readers back home.

The venues have also been chaotic. The volunteers are friendly but have little idea where anything is. Visitors are sent to opposite corners of enormous venues, only to get there and be sent all the way back again in an exhausting, hot game of human table tennis. Only in the final few days has extra signage appeared. Transport teething problems early in the Games added to this chaos, as athletes were taken to the wrong venues or forced to sit in aisles on hot, crowded buses.

There’s another stereotype in Europe: the British are the biggest whingers. The French, who surveys show are far more reluctant to complain, would add athletes, can-can dancers and the world’s media to that list. Enough of the nitpicking when they’ve just pulled off the most beautiful Games of the modern era.