Bam, bam, ba-da-dam… or D-D-C#-D-B – Am I not making sense here? Okay, okay – I am trying to “sing” Frank Sinatra’s famous intro to his ode to the city that never sleeps – New York, New York. Whenever I think of the Big Apple, the notes of the city’s secret anthem instantly start playing in my head.
New York - the city of dreams, the place where the impossible is possible, a clean slate for a new start. A decade ago, I spent approximately 12 hours there as a student visiting the States for summer university at Georgetown in Washington D.C. Back then I promised myself that one day I would return, stay for longer and take it all in.
In October 2019, I made this promise come true, boarded a plane and could hardly await setting foot on the tarmac at JFK International Airport a few hours later. After a first stroll through Times Square to get blinded by lights of colossal billboards, and a slice of Pepperoni Pizza, we were off to our next stop, which would take us high above the city – Top of the Rocks, the observation deck on the 70ths floor of the Rockefeller Center, 260m above sea level.
So here is the catch – I am not too good with heights. So needless to say, the crowded 60 seconds elevator ride to the top was more than nerve wrecking for me. But I survived, and as the doors of the elevator slid open, there was a whole new world out there that you might at first mistake for a cheesy wallpaper of NYC. Only that it’s not.
Taking in the 360° panoramic view, I was indeed speechless for a while – the grandeur of Central Park on the north side, Hudson river to the west and downtown Manhattan to the south, with the Empire State Building, Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty and the One World Trade Centre in sight.
My eyes lingered on the One World Trade Centre for a moment. The new landmark of the city opened in 2014 telling the story of loss and despair – a collective trauma that still haunts more than one generation. Immediately an incredible sadness overcame me, paired with an uneasiness of being on a skyscraper.
During my first brief visit to NYC, Ground Zero was still a massive hole in the ground. The construction works for the One World Trade Centre had just commenced and as I stood there at the fencing of the site back then, I felt how a wave of sadness consumed me. I simply could not understand… Now years later as the One WTC has opened its doors for business, the feeling is nonetheless still there. As most of you, dear readers, also I can clearly remember where I was when the planes hit the Twin Towers on September 11th, 2001 and how I heard of the news. It was a Tuesday and I had just started at a new school the previous day. I was excited, eager to learn more about the world. I had just gotten home from school in the afternoon when the phone rang and my mother picked up. It was a rare phone call from her brother, my uncle who lived in Beijing at the time. Without much explanation, he urged her to switch on the TV and turn to CNN. He was clearly in complete shock. In the hours to come, we did not move an inch from the TV, utterly alarmed by what had happened and even more horrified by what was to come – the collapse of both towers.
It was only years later when I learned why my uncle in particular was so bewildered by what had happened that day in New York. Back in the 90s, he had lived and worked in NYC himself as a chef. He had always been a very sociable and outgoing guy who found it very easy to make friends. He would enter the room and his cheerful nature would be captivating to everybody present. He also loved to explore new places, so it was not too surprising that soon after his arrival, he visited “Windows on the World” for the first time, the restaurant on the top floors of the North Tower of the World Trade Centre. Over what must have been a few drinks, he instantly made friends with the staff there. He soon became a welcomed regular in the kitchen on the 106th and 107th floor, offering a helping hand when the restaurant was short on staff.
On September 11th at 8:46am local time, the first plane crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Centre between the 93rd and the 99th floors, cutting off the staff and guests at the “Windows on the World” from any escape routes. Everybody present at the restaurant that day died – some of who were my uncle’s friends back in the days, friends he shared drinks and stories with, friends who helped him navigate through the concrete jungle when he first arrived.
Standing atop the Rockefeller Center, I was trying to imagine how my uncle must have seen the world from the top of the World Trade Centre almost 30 years ago. My uncle unfortunately passed in 2018 before I could ask him all the burning questions I still have about his adventures in the world. I am almost convinced that he must have been as humbled as I was by the magnitude of the city. He must have appreciated the change in perspective, a perspective in which all your problems start to seem so small.
Back on the ground level, we started to make our way downtown to the 9/11 Memorial, the two dark memorial pools on the exact site of where the Twin Towers once stood. With no less than an eerie feeling in our stomachs, we pay tribute to the lives lost on that tragic day in 2001 and to my uncle, who at least for a little while, might have been part of the inventory of the North Tower, and who too shall never be forgotten.
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