Across the Sea of Time: Ten Days in a New York That No Longer Exists

In loving memory of my beloved mother, with whom I shared these New York memories. This story is for you—with all my love, always.

New York, Easter 1999. A mother, her son, two Lincoln stretch limousines, aching feet and memories that would become more precious than either of us could possibly have imagined.

It All Started with a Film

Sometimes a film is just a film. You watch it, enjoy it, perhaps remember a few scenes, and that’s that.

And sometimes a film becomes the beginning of something rather special.

In early 1999, my sister and my niece came to visit us in Munich. During their stay, we went to see an IMAX 3D film called Across the Sea of Time.

It was a wonderful journey through New York, combining the city’s past with its present, and showing some of its most famous landmarks in spectacular 3D.

And there I was, sitting in the cinema, already knowing that Mutti and I would soon be visiting the real thing.

Naturally, I started making mental notes.

Statue of Liberty? Definitely.

Ellis Island? Of course.

Coney Island? Why not?

Central Park? Absolutely.

By the time the film finished, I had practically organised half our sightseeing programme.

The film was meant to be entertainment. For me, it had become a rather convenient travel brochure.

And a very good one at that.

If you would like a glimpse of the New York that inspired our adventure, you can watch Across the Sea of Time on YouTube. A normal screen cannot quite recreate the IMAX 3D experience, but it can still take you back to that extraordinary city.

New York, Here We Come — But Not in an Ordinary Taxi!

I had already travelled quite a bit by then, and I knew that getting from an airport to a hotel could be a rather unromantic experience.

Queues, luggage, taxis, traffic jams and drivers who occasionally appeared to believe that speed limits were merely suggestions.

But this trip was different.

This was Mutti’s New York adventure, and I wanted to make it special from the very first minute.

So I organised a Lincoln stretch limousine to collect us from the airport.

Yes, a proper American stretch limousine!

Not because we were particularly wealthy. Far from it. But sometimes a little extravagance creates memories that last much longer than the money spent on it.

And what better place to arrive in style than New York City?

There we were, two ordinary travellers from Germany, being chauffeured through the streets of Manhattan as though we were important people.

Well, at least for the duration of the journey.

I had even arranged another stretch limousine for our return to the airport.

If you’re going to spoil your mother, you might as well do it properly.

Our Home Between the Twin Towers

Our hotel was another carefully considered choice.

I had booked us into the Marriott World Trade Center, formerly known as the Vista Hotel, standing right in the World Trade Center complex between the famous Twin Towers.

Normally, a hotel in such a spectacular location would have been well beyond what I wanted to spend.

But I had discovered some excellent weekend rates, which made our nine-night stay surprisingly affordable.

And what a location!

We were staying right in the heart of Lower Manhattan, surrounded by two of the most recognisable skyscrapers on the planet.

Every morning, when we left the hotel and headed towards the subway, we walked against a seemingly endless stream of people arriving for work at the World Trade Center.

Men and women carrying briefcases, drinking coffee, hurrying towards the entrances, probably thinking about meetings, paperwork, deadlines or what to have for lunch.

Just another ordinary working day in New York.

We were going sightseeing.

They were going to work.

At the time, it was simply part of our daily routine. Nothing particularly remarkable.

Today, however, it is one of the memories that stays with me most vividly.

But more about that later.

Standing on Top of the World

Of course, staying between the Twin Towers meant that we simply had to go up one of them.

And we did.

We visited the observation deck of the South Tower, including its rooftop viewing area.

Standing high above Manhattan, looking across a forest of skyscrapers, with the Hudson River on one side and the East River on the other, was an extraordinary experience.

New York looked almost unreal from up there.

The yellow taxis became tiny dots. The streets looked like narrow lines between enormous buildings.

And somewhere down below was our hotel.

I remember thinking how fortunate we were to be staying in such a famous place.

Little did I know just how important that particular memory would become.

Following the Film Across New York

With Across the Sea of Time still fresh in our minds, we set off to discover the city.

One of our excursions took us to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.

There is something quite moving about approaching Liberty Island by boat and seeing that enormous green lady standing there with her torch raised.

You have seen her a thousand times in films, books and on television.

But suddenly she is right in front of you.

Ellis Island was equally fascinating, although for very different reasons.

Millions of immigrants had passed through its halls, arriving in America with their belongings, their hopes and probably a considerable amount of uncertainty.

Standing there made me think about the enormous journeys people had undertaken long before anyone could simply book a flight across the Atlantic.

We also visited Coney Island, that wonderfully peculiar seaside corner of New York with its amusement-park history, boardwalk and slightly old-fashioned charm.

It felt almost like stepping into another era.

And that was exactly what had fascinated me about the IMAX film: New York wasn’t just a collection of famous buildings. It was a city full of stories, with different generations leaving their marks on it.

We explored Central Park and admired countless buildings whose names I have long since forgotten.

Fortunately, forgetting the names doesn’t mean forgetting the experience.

Chinatown and Little Italy — Two Worlds, a Few Streets Apart

Another wonderful part of exploring Manhattan was discovering how quickly the atmosphere could change from one neighbourhood to the next.

One moment, we were surrounded by skyscrapers and busy avenues. A little later, we found ourselves in Chinatown, where Chinese shop signs, restaurants, colourful displays and bustling little streets made us feel as though we had travelled to another continent.

Without even needing our passports!

And just a short walk away was Little Italy.

Suddenly, the surroundings had changed again. Italian restaurants, cafés, old-fashioned shopfronts and streets that seemed to belong to an entirely different chapter of New York’s history.

I found it fascinating.

Here we were, in one of the most American cities imaginable, yet within a few streets we could experience the cultural influences of two completely different parts of the world.

And both neighbourhoods had been shaped by generations of immigrants who had arrived in New York hoping to build better lives.

It was another reminder that New York was much more than the Manhattan skyline.

It was an extraordinary collection of little worlds living side by side.

And Mutti and I were happily wandering through them, doing what we did best on this holiday.

Walking.

And walking.

And occasionally wondering whether our feet would ever forgive us.

From Wall Street to the Brooklyn Bridge — and an Old German Lady

Of course, no visit to Lower Manhattan would have been complete without a wander through the famous financial district.

We walked along Wall Street, that legendary little street where enormous fortunes are made, lost and occasionally made again before lunchtime.

I looked around with some curiosity, although I must admit that the world of high finance has never been particularly appealing to me.

My own financial ambitions were rather modest: having enough money left to enjoy the rest of our holiday.

Much more interesting to me was the nearby South Street Seaport, where we discovered a magnificent old sailing ship called Peking.

And this was no ordinary ship.

Built in Hamburg in 1911, the Peking was one of the famous Flying P-Liners, enormous four-masted sailing vessels that once carried cargo across the world’s oceans, including the notoriously dangerous waters around Cape Horn.

Imagine that! Long before container ships and modern navigation systems, sailors crossed those wild seas aboard vessels like this.

And there she was, an old German lady spending her retirement in New York Harbour.

Quite an international career, really.

Little did we know that many years later, she would return to Germany in 2017, undergo a major restoration, and arrive back in Hamburg in 2020, ready to tell her stories to another generation.

Then there was the Brooklyn Bridge.

Another of those New York landmarks that I had seen countless times in films and photographs, but which somehow looked even more impressive in real life.

Its enormous stone towers, the intricate web of steel cables and the Manhattan skyline behind it made it an unforgettable sight.

By this stage, Mutti and I were becoming rather accomplished Manhattan explorers.

Our feet, unfortunately, were beginning to disagree.

But what could we do?

There was always something else worth seeing, and New York certainly wasn’t going to explore itself.

The Flatiron Building — New York’s Famous Iron

Another building I particularly wanted to see was the famous Flatiron Building.

Standing where Broadway and Fifth Avenue meet near 23rd Street, this wonderfully peculiar skyscraper looks almost impossibly narrow when viewed from the right angle.

Completed in 1902, it was already approaching its hundredth birthday when we visited in 1999.

And unlike the modern glass towers surrounding so much of Manhattan, the Flatiron had something wonderfully old-fashioned about it.

Its triangular shape reminded people of an old-fashioned clothes iron. In fact, the plot itself had been known as the “flat iron” before the building went up.

I wondered what the offices inside must look like, especially at the narrow end.

Would there even be enough room for a proper desk?

And would the person sitting there have to turn sideways to get out?

Probably not, but these are the sort of important architectural questions that occasionally occupy my mind.

For me, the Flatiron Building was another perfect example of what made New York so fascinating.

Everywhere we looked, there seemed to be another building we recognised from somewhere.

A film, a photograph, a television programme or perhaps an old postcard.

And suddenly, we were standing right in front of it.

That feeling never really got old.

Easter Sunday on Fifth Avenue

One of the unexpected highlights was the famous Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue.

Now, if you imagine a traditional parade with marching bands, floats and people following a carefully organised programme, you would be mistaken.

New York’s Easter Parade is something rather different.

It’s more of a wonderfully eccentric celebration of spring, fashion and, above all, hats.

And not just ordinary hats.

Some of the creations looked as though their owners had raided an entire flower shop, added a few ribbons, perhaps a stuffed rabbit, and then decided that something was still missing.

I loved it.

And Mutti enjoyed it too.

It was one of those occasions when New York seemed determined to prove that absolutely anything was possible, provided you had enough confidence to wear it in public.

Toys, Kevin McCallister and a Little Hollywood Magic

Naturally, we couldn’t visit New York without seeing some famous film locations.

One particularly memorable stop was FAO Schwarz, the legendary toy shop on Fifth Avenue.

Even as an adult, that place was fascinating.

It was a toy shop on an entirely different scale, full of things that made you wonder whether they had been designed for children or for adults who had never quite grown up.

I suspect I belonged firmly in the second category.

And then there was the famous Plaza Hotel nearby.

Anyone who remembers Home Alone 2: Lost in New York will know exactly why I wanted to see it.

This was where Kevin McCallister enjoyed his rather extravagant stay in New York, complete with room service and the sort of hotel bill that would probably have given his father quite a shock.

Seeing the Plaza in person was great fun.

Unfortunately, nobody offered us Kevin’s suite.

Probably just as well. I was quite happy with our Marriott.

A Brief Encounter with Excessive Luxury

Then there was Trump Tower.

Somehow, entirely by accident, we ended up inside.

Now, I have seen plenty of extravagant buildings over the years, but this one was something else.

Dark, glossy brownish surfaces, polished stone, gold-coloured decorations and a level of visual extravagance that made me wonder whether the interior designer had ever heard the words less is more.

Apparently not.

I remember feeling almost dizzy looking around.

Perhaps it was the combination of the shiny walls, the dramatic lighting and all that overwhelming glamour.

Whatever the reason, I was quite relieved when we found our way outside again.

Fresh air!

I have never been particularly impressed by luxury for luxury’s sake, and Trump Tower certainly wasn’t going to change my mind.

Still, it gave us something to laugh about.

And that’s often worth more than another souvenir.

Ghostbusters, the United Nations and Manhattan After Dark

Our sightseeing programme continued at a pace that would probably horrify anyone who believes holidays are supposed to be relaxing.

We visited the United Nations Headquarters and even went inside.

It was fascinating to stand in a place associated with so many important international decisions.

We also passed buildings that immediately reminded me of the Ghostbusters films.

New York is full of places that feel strangely familiar, even when you’ve never been there before.

That’s what happens when you’ve spent years watching American films.

You turn a corner and suddenly think, Hang on, I’ve seen this somewhere!

And then there was Broadway at night.

We walked through the brightly lit streets, passed the famous Radio City Music Hall and eventually found ourselves in Times Square.

Neon signs, advertisements, crowds, traffic, noise — the whole magnificent madness of Manhattan.

I loved it.

Even Mutti, who was certainly not someone who needed constant excitement, seemed to enjoy the energy of the city.

New York in the evening had a special atmosphere.

It felt as though the entire city had decided that going to bed was a rather unnecessary waste of time.

The Art of Crossing a New York Street — and Surviving on Hot Dogs

We also learnt a very important lesson about life in Manhattan.

The little illuminated sign saying DON’T WALK apparently wasn’t taken particularly seriously by New Yorkers.

At first, we behaved like sensible Germans.

Red sign? Stop.

Wait patiently.

Look left. Look right.

Meanwhile, approximately 200 people walked straight past us and crossed the road.

After observing this phenomenon several times, we began to understand that New York operated according to a slightly different set of pedestrian customs.

Eventually, we adapted.

Although I suspect Mutti occasionally wondered whether we were about to be arrested for crossing the road.

We walked enormous distances during those nine nights and ten days.

By the evening, our feet regularly reminded us that they had not agreed to quite so much sightseeing.

Fortunately, New York had invented something rather useful for hungry pedestrians.

The street-corner hot dog.

Now, I have absolutely no idea how many New York hot dogs I consumed during those ten days.

Quite a few, I suspect.

Whenever all that walking made me hungry, there seemed to be a hot dog cart conveniently waiting around the next corner.

A bun, a sausage, a little mustard, perhaps some onions — nothing particularly sophisticated, but exactly what I needed.

And the best part?

No need to find a restaurant, study a menu, wait for a table or interrupt our sightseeing programme for an hour.

Just grab a hot dog and carry on exploring.

I sometimes wonder whether I should have included them in our travel budget under public transport.

After all, they provided a considerable amount of the fuel required to move me around Manhattan.

By the end of our holiday, I had probably eaten enough hot dogs to qualify as an honorary New Yorker.

Or at least a regular customer.

But we were having far too much fun to worry about a few blisters or my somewhat questionable dietary habits.

There was always another street to explore, another building to admire, another little discovery waiting around the corner.

And tomorrow?

Well, tomorrow we would simply walk some more.

And probably eat another hot dog.

Titanic on Our Last Evening

On our final evening, we watched Titanic on the TV in our hotel room.

Yes, that Titanic.

The enormous James Cameron film with Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, a very large ship and an ending that was never going to be particularly cheerful.

Watching a film about the most famous Atlantic crossing disaster while preparing to fly back across the Atlantic ourselves was perhaps not the most reassuring choice.

But I enjoyed the film enormously.

And then I noticed something rather curious.

We were travelling on April 15, the same day the Titanic sank in 1912.

A rather strange historical connection to contemplate before crossing the Atlantic.

Fortunately, Delta Air Lines had considerably better prospects of getting us safely back across the Atlantic than the White Star Line’s unfortunate flagship.

And no icebergs to worry about.

At least not at cruising altitude.

The Limousine Returns

When it was finally time to leave, our second Lincoln stretch limousine arrived to take us back to the airport.

A fitting end to a very special holiday.

There was something wonderfully satisfying about ending the journey in the same style in which it had begun.

But this time, the limousine carried two rather tired travellers.

We had walked countless miles, seen famous landmarks, crossed streets against the traffic lights, admired skyscrapers, visited museums and collected enough memories to last a lifetime.

And we had done it together.

That was the most important part.

A City That Would Never Be Quite the Same Again

Two and a half years later, on 11 September 2001, the world watched in horror as the Twin Towers were destroyed.

I was in Tetiaroa, a small island in French Polynesia, when 9/11 took place. The news reached us there in a setting that could hardly have been more different from New York: palm trees, warm ocean water and a remote island far from the centre of the unfolding tragedy.

Like millions of others, I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

But for me, the images carried an additional, very personal meaning.

I knew those buildings.

Not just from photographs or television.

I had stayed right between them.

I had stood on top of one of them.

And, perhaps most hauntingly, I remembered those ordinary mornings when Mutti and I walked out of our hotel towards the subway, against the stream of people arriving at the World Trade Center for another day at work.

I remembered their faces — not individual faces I could identify, but the familiar sight of all those people going about their daily routines.

Some of the people we passed during our stay may have been among those who lost their lives on that terrible September morning.

I will never know.

The Marriott hotel where we stayed was destroyed too.

Our temporary home in New York simply ceased to exist.

It is difficult to explain what it feels like to watch a place you once knew so well disappear in such circumstances.

Our memories of a happy holiday could never convey the suffering of those who lost loved ones.

But the personal connection made the tragedy feel painfully close.

Whenever I see old photographs of the World Trade Center, I don’t just see two skyscrapers.

I see Mutti and me leaving the hotel in the morning, ready for another day of exploring New York.

And I see a city that was still unaware of what lay ahead.

I also remember watching the news from Tetiaroa, trying to understand how such an unimaginable event could have happened in a place I had once experienced as so familiar and alive.

That contrast has stayed with me ever since: the peaceful island where I was standing, and the New York I knew from our journey, suddenly transformed by images of smoke, destruction and grief.

Mutti’s Favourite Journey

Over the years, Mutti travelled to quite a few places.

She had seen more of the world than she could ever have imagined during her earlier life in East Germany, when travelling beyond the borders of the socialist world was largely out of reach for ordinary citizens.

And she loved telling people about those journeys.

London held a particularly special place in her heart.

But whenever she talked about her favourite trips, New York was almost always at the very top.

Sometimes it had to share first place with London.

I could live with that.

What mattered to me was that I had been able to give her those experiences.

Not expensive presents that eventually end up forgotten in a cupboard.

Not things that gather dust.

But days filled with excitement, discoveries, laughter and the occasional pair of aching feet.

I don’t remember exactly how much I paid for those stretch limousines.

And frankly, I don’t care.

I remember how special the journey felt.

I remember our hotel between the Twin Towers.

I remember the Easter Parade, the Statue of Liberty, the busy streets and our endless walks through Manhattan.

And most of all, I remember Mutti enjoying herself.

Across the Sea of Time

Looking back, I find it rather remarkable that our adventure began with a film called Across the Sea of Time.

Because that is exactly what this journey has become for me.

A journey across time.

Back to New York in 1999.

Back to a skyline that no longer exists.

Back to a world before 9/11.

And back to those wonderful days when I could walk through Manhattan with my mother beside me, both of us curious about what we might discover around the next corner.

We didn’t know how much the world would change.

We didn’t know which moments would become particularly precious.

We were simply enjoying ourselves.

And perhaps that is the most important lesson of all.

Life is Now.

Not next year. Not when everything is perfect. Not when there’s more money in the bank or a better reason to go.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is book the trip, surprise your mother with a stretch limousine, and make some memories.

Because one day, long after the hotel has disappeared and the city has changed, those memories may be all that remains.

And they are worth every penny.

Thanks for the adventure, Mutti. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

A note on the photographs: these pictures from our 1999 journey have been enlarged and enhanced with AI assistance for this article. Some fine details may have been reconstructed during restoration.