2004 was too late to visit the two tallest buildings in NYC. Instead I was staring at a pit behind a steel fence. A cross made of remains stands there as a guardian. On the fence there are pictures and stories attached, keeping the memory on those killed by one of the most horrible events in mankind's history. During both my visits to NY, every now and then I come across 9/11 memorials. Families hang the american flag and photos of their loved ones on their homes. In bars and pubs photos of killed colleagues and friends are attached to the wall. I feel for those left behind. I pay my respect to those who helped saving people, both living and dead.
I arrived at Wall Street around lunch time.
I noticed how the streets here were more narrow than usual, or maybe I was just imagining it. Still, couldn't shake a claustrophobic feeling while walking between two skyscrapers I couldn't begin to see the end of. Then a door of the stock market's building opened and a flow of … clones came pouring out. I swear, they were clones! The male species wore black suits, white shirts and a black tie, a neat haircut and a black suitcase.The female species wore black suits, white shirts and no tie, a neat haircut and a black suitcase. And they were all in a hurry. A black & white river pouring over the narrow streets. Talk about claustrophobia.
The cross at the WTC Site
I retreated further west, Wall Street didn't do it for me, and discovered what would become one of my favorite spots in Manhattan.
Amid the skyscapers stood a little church, made of brown stones. Around it was a cemetary surrounded by tall trees. It's Trinity church, one of New York's oldest churches, first built in 1697, then rebuilt in 1776 after it had burned down, and again rebuilt in 1846. To my regret the door was locked, so I went to see the cemetary. It was strangely quiet, considering it's located in the middle of a buisy part of a big city. Walking around I discovered the graves of Alexander Hamilton and Robert Fulton and other famous people of the american history. And graves of the first settlers, people born in the 17th cent. in England, died years later in the new world. Fascinating! …. No, I don't think I'm weird, thankyouverymuch. Thinking of these people's lifes, their courage (or voracity, I guess it depends on how you look at it) to leave everything behind and go start a new life somewhere far away with no idea about what was awaiting them there, made me shudder. I had read a few novels telling (a fictious) story about the first settlers, but the writers also using historic facts, and found them very interesting and fascinating. And now here I was staring at the graves of people who actually have 'been there, done that'. Fascinating! …. I guess, I am weird. …. But I'm okay with that.