The New York City Pass

OK, I'm going to go utterly touristy and travel blog related, and blow the horn of this wonderful little thing I found on the internet while researching our holiday in New York City.

The New York City Pass is a very clever little invention. One set fee for 70 of New York's biggest attractions, based on how many days you have to explore. We had the luxury of spending seven days using the pass, and paid $175 for that luxury.

A little flash of the card, and you can jump queues, get discounts and enter into a whole pile of the top spots you want to visit across the city.

Wanna know what we got to see?

Here's the post about the NBC Studio Tour, bowling at Bowlmor, and the Guggenheim.

We also went on a walking tour across the Brooklyn Bridge and into DUMBO.

We had a once-in-a-lifetime experience sailing around Manhattan on the 1929 Shearwater, an 82-foot double-masted Great Gatsby era sailing yacht.

And then we got to do a whole pile of other things, including:

- Bodies: The Exhibit
- Museum of Sex
- MoMA
- Statue of Liberty
- Spy: The Exhibit
- Ripley's Believe It Or Not
- Empire State Building
- Top of the Rock

And there was even more we did do, and could have done! We just ran out of time. Check out the full list of attractions here.

What a winner.

Coming up this week: more NYC posts, the next big part of our adventure (which I'm over the moon about!) and some mini restaurant reviews!

Bumping into Celebrities

So, I've been told, that there are a lot of celebrities in New York, and when you meet them, or see them, or brush past them at a market, you just have to pay it cool. Like super nonchalant. Like what, I'm not standing next to some super famous guy right now. Whatevs.

We got to practice at Madame Tussaud's the other day. Playing it cool with some very realistic looking celebrities.

Like when you get really close, you almost expect them to un-stick and slap you across the face for invading their bubble. Ka-bam!

Tuesday {Past Explorations}

It seems strange to be in New York for this year's memorial of 9/11. I can remember visiting the Twin Towers when I was eight, going all the way to the top, and being able to see the whole world from up there. A whole world of skyscrapers and concrete and ants.

Then, when I was fourteen, I remember those same strong concrete buildings falling down. I remember where I was - everyone does. I was at home, after school, working on a project with my best friend. We were at the big kitchen table, pages and papers spread out around us. The radio was playing. They said something about a plane flying into a building. I thought it was the strangest thing. I wondered what they meant. My mom came home - rushing in through the kitchen door - shocked that we didn't know what was going on.

We hurried up stairs, put the TV on, and there it was.

Last week we went to the 9/11 memorial. It was a calm, tranquil, beautiful space in which the tragedy could be remembered.

Each of the Twin Tower's footprints had been saved - with two gigantic squares in the exact spot where the buildings had been. These cut-outs featured 30-foot drops, with cascading water, which then flowed down into a second drop. From the edge, you couldn't see the bottom. The squares were edged with charcoal-grey slabs, listing all the names of the people who died, both on that day, and during the 1993 bombing at the World Trade Centre.

They're re-building. The whole thing. Not twin towers this time, but four skyscrapers, with another assortment of buildings around. And a whole 395 more trees than there were before. It's amazing to stand there, and see it all going up around you.

My favourite part of the whole thing? A couple of kilometres away, in the park by the Statue of Liberty ferry, is a sculpture entitled 'The Sphere'. This sculpture used to stand in the plaza of the World Trade Centre. On September 11 it was buried under the towers. When they finally got through the rubble, they found it still intact, with just a few minor scratches and scars, and moved it to the park. The bumps and bruises serve as a reminder of the events of that fateful day.