Dedicated to (Leon) Alexander Heerde -the son not to be- My Room, My Walls, My Hotel There it was standing in its might, white like the cloudless blue sky, overlooking lake Aussenalster in the heart of Germany’s second largest and most beautiful city of Hamburg, home to forty thousand Ghanaians, countless refugees from around the world and sailors that had only few hours left to spend some time in the Sailor’s Mission located in the middle of the eight hundred forty year old Hamburg Harbour in Hamburg-Harburg. Reeperbahn and St. Pauli had long lost its sexual attraction, home now for Yuppies and Tourists sinking into the illusion of a past that is buried to rot in the darkness of our sinful nature. The Hotel Atlantic raised its pride into the sky of Hamburg making its mark as a place of splendor, elegance and home for the world fortunate once for Generations past. Build in old English Victorian Imperialistic style as its forever rival across the lake along the Jungfernstieg at the corner to Gaensemarkt, Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten, presented its brass golden Globe of the World into the open skies like the fire of the Statue of Liberty of New York City wanting to shout to the world, here we are, ready to serve you from wherever you come, feel free and most welcome in our Hotel that offers you comfort, tranquility, elegance, perfection in service, history and on top of all, hospitality that comes natural to you from all our staff members, the Hamburg style no other city can offer; an experience of a life-time not to be missed. Truly, this Hotel Atlantic was only made for this city that was never ruled by a King, but by the people themselves, it was a true reflection of the elegance in which Hamburgers think, feel, talk and walk; a life- style that reflects honesty, trust, sincerity, affection and empathy for others, open mind for the issues of the world and beyond, spiritually powerful to constantly finding new walks of life to better the lives of many. Generations of races and colours from all around the world have patronized Hotel Atlantic and looked out of the sparking clean windows above the exquisite Restaurants and Ball Rooms on the Ground floor, seen the trees planted by the road side blossom in spring, imagining the ice on the lake with young and old skating along when the ice was declared fit for the public to enjoy unforgettable moments with hot spicy red wine and lesser warm Pizzas. They have stood quite moments on the small balconies attached to their rooms giving space to think beyond the limitation of an individual and the small world each and every one of us lives and find himself in. Standing on the concrete feeling the cold of the white painted metal limiting the space as how far to go to stay safe, looking left towards the Museum of Modern Art seeing the green roof of Hamburg Rathaus in the distance behind Hapag Lloyd and when looking to the right watching small sailing boats going up the Aussenalster to Winterhude, every Hotel Guest was aware, as much as he was part of this world, it was his assignment given to make a difference and special impact in life; to leave a stone of remembrance behind for generations to follow. -1- Businessmen of various shapes and sizes, Superrich, Selfmade-Millionairs, Singers, Actors, Participants of the annual Hamburger Abendblatt New Year’s Reception, Catwalks of Designers locally and internationally, they all were greeted by the Doorman, an impressive statue of Power over a door to decide about the fortune and future of important transactions behind the thick stone walls that had welcomed Presidents, Ministers, Philosophers to speak to them, the four walls in their luxurious rooms set above the Reception area. Walking into the Entrance Hall, to the immediate right a narrow long stretch of walkway decorated with glass cabinets filled with watches, rings, jewelry, handbags, most decorative porcelain figures and table ware opened the way to the function rooms that were able to accommodate five hundred guest and more at a time. The Hotel Atlantic and their very few owners over time had carefully mastered the balance between the demand of modern technology to host social functions of the now and the old glamour the Hotel was proud to showcase and make the busy traveler and businessman stand still for a while and reflect on their senses to find out what really matters in life and their very own life in particular. Straight ahead on the left side a long dark brownish Reception desk welcomed the Guests and made them feel at home; not only as a slogan of modern times used endlessly with no sense and understanding. Here, in Hotel Atlantic in Hamburg, the words had a meaning, a self-understood honesty and easiness. When and where money speaks stress and hardship is gone, things fall in place just all by themselves. Who better to testify of the truth the young Gentlemen and Ladies behind the counter were speaking was Udo Lindenberg, the front singer of famous Rock Band, Panik Orchester, having rented a room for years calling it his home, his only home indeed. At the upper end of the Reception were the lifts and the simple, yet impressive staircase to be found, while across the lifts a small, cozy group of seats were offering anyone that wanted a resting place to wait for friends or colleagues or simply take a good old fashioned British Afternoon tea with cucumber sandwiches, scones with clotted cream topped with marmalade, pralines and mini cakes served on the finest China years old alongside a wide selection of exquisite and well brewed teas from around the world bought by the Chef in the Tee Kontor that was to be found in the largest warehouse complex of the world named Speicherstadt. Late at night, when the lights went down and time to reflect on the day’s event came upon the Hotel guest and staff members, standing in a wide open space behind the group of chairs stood a black piano facing the bar played live by well trained and inspired Musicians to dime the atmosphere of chilling and ready for sleep into a moment of letting go, forgetting worries, fears, anger, tears about unfulfilled dreams with a light in the spirit that each day offers a new opportunity to find and get what everyone of us is looking and hoping for. Wherever the Guest were coming from, their traditions, their personal experiences, their aspirations and expectations, in these quite moments before midnight, one expression and impression united them in the shadowy light of the few lamps identifying the Whiskey poured in small glasses as to be originally from Scotland and dark Red Bordeaux truly from France as what we all are, simply as humans; strong and weak, clever and not so clever, sinners and believers, creative or more technocratic crafted by our Creator, yet still and forever, part of the human race to manage our lives well to the best we are capable of. Ignoring the tender smile of Natasha Dimitriv, the Apprentice from Moscow that had joined her parents some months ago, German Immigrants of the third Generation of Wolga Deutsche from Dictator Adolf -2- Hitler’s occupied territory, he passed the Reception heading for the Lift to take him up to his room on the second Floor. He pressed the button to bring the Lift down, looked back while holding himself to the door of the lift feeling heaviness in his body, he tried to make sense of the human shadow that stood in the Entrance Door seemingly looking for something. His half-closed eyes starred at the elegantly clothed man, slim with his hands hidden in the pockets of his long dark blue coat, certainly tailor made in London, rubbed his eyes to open them wide and get a clearer idea of who this man might be or what he was supposed to represent. The lift came down and opened its door behind him. He stepped one foot into it to make it stay. His eye lids slipped for a moment that made the slim man disappear. He looked down to his black shoes he used to walk in all day long. Dust had surrendered the leather to make them appear like the pale face of a dead body in an open coffin. He shook his head making the heaviness in his joints disappear for a moment. His eyes were watery in all the redness that surrounded his blue eyes. It was in his right eye that a small brown spot was to be seen, the only mark he had inherited from his late mother. He stepped into the lift, got up, left on second floor holding himself along the white light ivory painted wall with old paintings in heavy golden wooden frames showing fox hunting sceneries from the Cornwall country side. For a moment he stopped looking into the mysterious smile of an unknown Gentleman in his traditional clothings dating back two hundred years ago. He might have been one of the Patrons of the Hotel Atlantic, maybe a simple coincidence to have seen him outside his room on the long stretched floor that was enlightened by shaded lamps with brass holders attached to the walls. With his right arm he was holding himself to the dark brown door of is room 213 right in the middle of the floor, his legs were stretched backwards like someone asked by Police Officers to stand ready for a thorough body search.