I remember where I was

The 25th anniversary of 9/11 is almost upon us. It’s hard to believe that a quarter century has passed since this brazen and deadly terrorist attack on American soil. The intervening years have failed to diminish the impact of the mind-numbing statistics that haunt this infamous date.

On that day, 19 terrorists planned and subsequently hijacked four airliners. They then flew one into each of the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center in New York City. The third plane crashed into the Pentagon, the headquarters of the United States Department of Defense, in Arlington County, Virginia. The fourth plane crashed in a rural Pennsylvania field during a passenger revolt.

A total of 2996 lost their lives that day, including the 19 murder-suicide hijackers. Countless more died prematurely in the years that followed from exposure to the toxic dust that engulfed lower Manhattan after the Twin Towers fell. The New York skyline was forever changed in an instant, along with aviation security. The death and destruction which occurred that day, in the heart of the world’s financial capital, was simply beyond comprehension.

Much like the generation before me who recall where they were when Kennedy was assassinated, my generation can recall where we were when news broke that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Centre. I was in Hong Kong at the time.  I’d flown in from Tokyo a few days earlier, on 8 September, after spending three weeks on secondment training and supporting the executive team in Japan. Tokyo has become the company’s most problematic APAC office, so I'd been seconded to help reform it.

On September 11, APAC’s Regional Director flew in from Sydney late in the afternoon and joined me for a debrief over dinner. We returned to our hotel around 8:30pm. At the time, we were staying at Bishop Lei International House, an unassuming three-star establishment in Mid-Levels on Hong Kong Island. Its rooms were tiny, barely fitting a bed and side table, and its amenities were limited. For example, the only English-language channel on television was CNN. As a result, I'd often watch it after dinner, which I did that day.

At 8:49pm, minutes after turning on the TV, CNN cut live to scenes of smoke pouring from the World Trade Centre's North Tower. American Airlines Flight 11 had struck the building just three minutes earlier, at 8:46 am local time. Along with millions of others, I watched live as a second plane struck the South Tower soon after. I still remember seeing United Airlines Flight 175's fuzzy silhouette coming into view as a news anchor speculated on what was happening. I thought to myself, the camera angle made the plane look unusually close to the unfolding tragedy. 

As the hours passed, I watched live as the Pentagon was struck, flights were grounded across the USA, and each tower fell. I kept watching until 7 World Trade Centre collapsed at 5:20am Hong Kong Time. I eventually grabbed a few hours of sleep. Marty Lederhandler's award-winning image above poignantly captured the surreal nature of the terrorist attacks. Cloudless blue skies. A serene Empire State Building. It really was just another sunny day in the Big Apple.

I recall vividly just how hypnotic the news coverage was. The scenes being broadcast live simply beggared belief. There was also a palpable fear that high-profile buildings were being targeted globally. At the time, my company’s Hong Kong office was based in the Bank of China building. Its distinctive diagonal facade made it one of the city’s most iconic towers. If terrorists were targeting high-profile buildings worldwide, then this was an obvious target. Should I stay away from the office?

At one point, emotionally overwhelmed, I tried calling my parents to tell them I loved them. However, they were driving through Portugal on a tour bus, without international roaming access. They remained unaware of the news unfolding in the USA until they reached their hotel later that evening. Real-time online messaging was still years away. When the planes crashed into the World Trade Centre, it was a full six years before the first iPhone. There was no WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. 

As you can imagine, very little work got done in the office the following day. Instead, we sat around recalling the events from the previous night, reflecting on the profound shock and utter disbelief we all felt. Newspapers delivered to the office became a stark reminder of everything we’d witnessed. Hong Kong’s tabloid newspapers printed graphic images on their front page. This included photos of people clinging to pillars near the ugly gash American Airlines Flight 11 had carved through the North Tower, and of people falling to their deaths. It was interesting insight into cultural differences. 

Over the years I’ve become used to Chinese media publishing graphic images Australian media outlets would consider gratuitous in nature. That said, much to my surprise, the Australian Financial Review's front page on 12 September led with "The Falling Man", a confronting image of a desperate victim who'd chosen to jump rather than be burned alive. A few days ago I found copies of the South China Morning Post, Hong Kong's premier broadsheet newspaper, that I kept after the event, along with copies of the Sydney Morning Herald. It's chilling to read these hardcopy editions 25 years later.  The shock and horror of the day flows through every story, page after page. 

It's also worth noting how intimately involved Australia found itself on 11 September. On that fateful day, John Howard, Australia's Prime Minister, was in Washington DC, visiting the White House and preparing to speak to the joint houses of Congress the following day. His speech was planned as a celebration of the 50th anniversary of the ANZUS treaty. Instead, as he hosted a press conference in the Willard InterContinental Hotel, terrorists crashed American Airlines Flight 77 into the Pentagon. 

When the conference concluded, aides opened curtains they'd closed to control indoor lighting for the television cameras. They were stunned by the view that greeted them. In the distance, the Pentagon was burning. The image above was taken by an Australian journalist, David McMeekin. The Secret Service responded immediately to mounting security fears; Mr Howard and his team were swiftly moved to a secure safe house in the basement of the nearby Australian Embassy. As a result, Australians were given a personal insight into the terrorist attacks as their own leader reported on events unfolding around him.

On 13 September I caught an evening flight back to Sydney. As fate would have it, I was flying Ansett Australia. While my Boeing 747 flew south, Australia’s second-largest airline collapsed into liquidation. All flights were cancelled shortly after 10:00 pm, and its aircraft were grounded. My plane, already in the air, was one of the last to land the following morning. If memory serves me well, the last plane, an overnight flight from Perth, landed shortly after us. I recall sitting in the aircraft’s front cabin, which was almost completely empty. It was clear then that 9/11 was already taking its toll on the aviation industry as people deferred or cancelled their travel plans.

A year later, I was in New York on business. I recall visiting Ground Zero and seeing the hole in the ground filled with debris where the towers once stood. Skyscrapers in the surrounding neighbourhood still bore that day's scars. This included broken windows, damaged facades and boarded-up street-floor tenancies. It was hard to comprehend that the South Tower, and its 108-floor outdoor observation deck I’d once enjoyed, was gone. That's a retrospective post for another time. A decade later, I took Mum and Dad to visit the 9/11 memorial, just months before Dad passed away.

I read recently that Madeline Amy Sweeney, a flight attendant on Flight 11, was born just two months after me. She was murdered at the age of 35. As I reflect on my life and last year’s 60th birthday celebration, her death resonates deeply. I have so many wonderful memories from the last 25 years, while Amy was cruelly denied the same experience. This really brings home the tragic human toll of that fateful day. Likewise, my memories of Hong Kong will be forever linked with those of 9/11.

One final note. I've illustrated parts of this post with photos I took during my second visit to the Big Apple in 1998. A friend, Ian, and I decided on the spur of the moment to take advantage of a discount fare and spend a week in Manhattan. I'll share more about this trip in another post. While in New York, we visited the South Tower Observation Deck. As you can see, the view from 420 metres above street level was truly spectacular.

UPDATE: 11 September 2026

New York City commemorated the 25th anniversary of 9/11 with a spectacular drone show on 9 September. A total of 2,977 synchronised drones rose over New York Harbour to recreate the outline of the twin towers in a moving tribute to those killed that day. The number of drones matched exactly the number of lives lost, less those of the 19 terrorists involved. A beautifully haunting display.

Earthrise revisited

The Artemis II mission is heading home after successfully looping around the moon over the Easter weekend. Two days from now, they’ll splash down in the Pacific Ocean, off the coast of San Diego. NASA has been sharing images taken by the four astronauts on board Integrity, the mission’s gumdrop-shaped capsule, as it passed behind the moon. This includes a stunning Earthset and a dramatic solar eclipse (featuring a cameo appearance by several planets).

These images have rekindled the hope and wonder inspired by Apollo 8, the first crewed mission to visit the moon. At the time, much like this week, another Christian festival was underway. It was Christmas Eve 1968. As the Apollo 8 astronauts orbited, they watched the moon’s grey and desolate, crater-pocked surface passing below. Then, something unexpected happened.

The Earth began rising above the horizon. This delicate, blue marble was beguiling. It sat alone in the vastness of space. A fragile, spherical island of life in the inky darkness. Every aspect of the Apollo mission, including a photography timeline, had been planned well in advance. However, nobody anticipated this moment. It caught everyone by surprise.

Apollo 8’s earthrise photos inspired a generation and kick-started the environmental movement that endures today. Once again, Artemis II has captured similar images, reminding us of our human frailty. Apollo 8 astronaut Jim Lovell talked about a moment in flight when the simple act of raising his thumb in front of him was enough to hide the Earth.

“Everything you’ve ever known is behind your thumb,” he said. “All the world’s problems, everything. It kind of shows you how relative life is and how insignificant we all are here on Earth. Because we are all on a rather small spaceship here.”

 

One American wrote a simple message to the Apollo astronauts shortly after their return. “You saved 1968”. It’s all too easy to forget that 53 years ago, America had endured a chaotic and violent year. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy had both been assassinated. Race riots had caused many American cities to burn. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and the protest movement against it was growing. Lyndon Johnson had dramatically decided not to seek reelection.

Step forward 53 years, and history seems to be repeating itself. America is embroiled in an increasingly unpopular war. The nation is deeply polarised. A looming threat of recession hangs over the global economy. Once again, our world feels harsh and the future uncertain. Then, a tiny spacecraft circling the moon sends back an image of hope. Once again, we’ve left Earth only to look back and rediscover it anew. This is why I love spaceflight. In its finest hour, it gives us hope for the future.

UPDATE:  11 April 2026

The Artemis crew has just splashed down safely in the Pacific about 100km off the coast of San Diego. Humanity's first flight to the moon in more than 53 years has delivered a textbook landing. The live coverage beaming from space as the Orion capsule entered the atmosphere was extraordinary.  

Incredibly, we watched the capsule separate from its service module live, and then saw the first glow of reentry happen in real time. In an age of AI, the vision was surreal. At times, it honestly looked fake. How sad it is to think that AI is tarnishing the magic of life's momentous events.

Watching Artemis splashdown was a rather poignant moment. As I child I vaguely recall watching an Apollo capsule splashdown on television. At the time, we were visiting family friends in Wellington. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say this was Apollo 17 returning from the moon in December 1972. I would have been seven years old at the time, just old enough to recall such an historic event.

Sentosa stopover

Sentosa Island is Singapore’s purpose-built mecca for tourists. Since the 1970s, the Singaporean Government has progressively transformed the once heavily militarised island into a tropical playground filled with artificial white-sand beaches, golf courses, amusement parks, cafes and holiday resorts. Garry and I decided to base ourselves on Sentosa during our brief homeward-bound stopover. Three years ago, we explored Singapore while travelling to Europe for business. However, aside from a brief excursion to Singapore Oceanarium, a giant aquarium on Sentosa, we largely gave the island a miss.

I first visited Sentosa in November 1990. Back then, access to the island was only possible by ferry or by a cable car system that started at Mount Faber. Like so much of Singapore, it offered clean and perfectly manicured public spaces, along with a series of rather tame, uninspiring attractions. It’s somewhat ironic that I recall the cable car ride across Keppel Harbour but little else from my backpacker day trip.

These days, in addition to the cable car, a monorail and a causeway link Sentosa to the rest of Singapore, making it easier to access. We cashed in some Amex loyalty points and treated ourselves to a poolside room at the Barracks Hotel. After our memorable experience in Krabi, we quite liked the idea of pool access directly from our room. Our room rate included breakfast and a canapé cocktail hour every afternoon. Pampered is the word that comes to mind.

Our flight from Heathrow landed shortly after 5:00pm. As a result, we rocked up to the hotel shortly after 6:00pm and were immediately invited for canapes by the pool while the staff prepared our room. Who says no to a free cocktail? After settling in, we decided to explore the Sentosa nightlife along the Straits coastline. We walked there via the Sentosa Sensoryscape, a series of domed gardens connected by a walkway to the coast. Everything was decorated for the Chinese New Year. This is the Year of the Horse.

We quickly discovered that almost every restaurant and café kitchen stops serving food after 8:00pm. As a result, we ended up dining at the only thing still open, a local KFC knock-off. Our luck didn’t improve much the following day. We decided to spend the day at Universal Studios, a short walk from our hotel. The theme park opened in 2011 as part of a massive redevelopment of the island’s central zone.

It proved to be a colossal waste of time and money. The shortest queue time for most rides was at least an hour, with up to two hours for the most popular options. Half the rides were also closed. We decided to do our best and make the most of it. We started with the Transformers Experience. After queuing for an hour, it broke down as we approached the boarding zone. We eventually abandoned the ride and moved on to our next queue.

We stumbled across a 15-minute wait time for a roller coaster that had been 90 minutes earlier in the day. After standing in line for 15 minutes, a staff member announced that the wait time was now two hours. Apparently, the 15-minute wait posted at the entrance was a system malfunction.

We decided to go for lunch at a faux New York pizza diner. While waiting to be served, the cash register system crashed, leaving me standing at the counter for ten minutes while it rebooted. We finished our food and decided to give Universal Studios a miss.

We did salvage something from the day by buying tickets for the Wings of Symphony fireworks and light show held in an open-air, purpose-built stadium on the seafront. It was relaxing to sit in the warm evening breeze and down a cold beer while watching the pyrotechnics do their thing.

Dinner was at another fast-food restaurant because, once again, we forgot to plan ahead for Singapore's early dining hours. This time it really was KFC. 

Garry decided to spend Sunday, our final day, chilling out by the pool. I decided to explore Sentosa’s military history. On the island’s northern tip is Fort Siloso, a decommissioned coastal artillery battery. It consists of 12 such batteries, which made up "Fortress Singapore" at the start of World War II and saw action during the Battle of Singapore. The fort is now a military museum open to the public.

To get to the fort, I caught the cross-island cable car. This network traces the island's hilly spine, offering spectacular views of the coast, Sentosa’s artificial beaches and the Singapore skyline. Upon reaching the terminating station at Siloso Point, I made my way down to the beach for a quick look at resort life Singapore style before heading for the fort via an aerial canopy walkway.

The fort itself was an excellent attraction. A series of exhibits in its repurposed buildings told the story of the island’s early history, its redevelopment as a military base, the Battle of Singapore and life under occupation. I learned plenty about Singapore’s history and the colonial British hubris that ultimately made it a sitting duck for Japanese invasion. 

The fort was built to defend Singapore against an invasion by sea from the south. However, during the Battle of Singapore in February 1942, the guns were instead turned 180 degrees inland to fire at rapidly-advancing Japanese forces approaching from the north (via British Malaya). The fort subsequently served as a POW camp until the liberation of Singapore in 1945.

The only downside to my walk through history was the heat. It was unbelievably humid. Thank goodness the Singaporean authorities had the forethought to install air conditioning throughout the complex.

Our hotel offered a late afternoon checkout. This gave us just enough time for one final adventure before heading to the airport. We couldn’t leave Singapore without feasting on some “traditional” Black Pepper Mud Crab. We grabbed a late lunch at the Sentosa Resorts complex, consisting of 900 grams of deliciously decadent seafood. However, we passed on the 1.8kg Alaskan King Crab offered to us for half price. Then, when we returned to the hotel to collect our luggage, we were offered a final farewell cocktail. Nice!

One final image. Access to the Fort Siloso canopy walk is via an elevator tower opposite the cable car terminus.  The front of the tower is covered by a giant hanging mural. This woven mat of tiles shimmers, flaps and rattles in the wind.  It's insane. I can't decide if it's cool or kitsch.  I guess that's good art - it makes you think?

5,000 years in the making

Some rather dreary weather has inspired me to visit the British Museum today. It’s been more than 15 years since my last visit. Garry’s feeling a little under the weather, so he stayed back in the hotel. It seems others were similarly motivated by the wet weather as the museum was heaving.

My return visit brought back fond memories. The central soaring glass atrium, known as the Great Court, still leaves me in awe. It’s iconic architecture at its best. Likewise, as always, the Rosetta Stone drew a crowd, and at times, the Egyptian mummy galleries resembled a mosh pit. 

To escape the maddening crowd, I slipped in my AirPods and spent three hours on an audio tour of the museum’s more eclectic exhibits. It’s all too easy to forget how ubiquitous the British Empire was and how prolific its explorers and adventurers once were. Artefacts from literally every corner of the globe and every great civilisation since the Mesopotamian Empire fill the museum from top to bottom. It was a timely reminder that great civilisations the world over have left their mark for more than 5000 years.

Sadly, today’s excursion was made possible after a meeting with Aedhmar, my long-time friend and business mentor, was cancelled. A last-minute diary change saw her cancel a previously scheduled trip to London. We’re now hoping to reconnect in July.

We’ve finished the day with a dinner and a show this evening. Dinner was at Chengdu Chengdu, a simple “hole in the wall” venue in Chinatown. The sizzling Sichuan Chicken was to die for. Gerrard Street also look the part, bedecked with red lanterns for Chinese New Year.

Tonight’s performance was “I’m Sorry, Prime Minister” at the Apollo Theatre starring Griff Rhys Jones and Clive Francis. A last-minute booking had us seated in nosebleed balcony seats. OMG, these seats were high above the stage - and every bit as steep as advertised. However, the script was driven by witty dialogue rather than physical comedy, so our seats ultimately didn’t detract from the experience.