A journey to Turkey for a summer wedding prompts the Purcell architect to consider aspects of place and time
I'm flying from London to Cesme, Turkey, for two friend's wedding. I've got a lay over in Antalya before catching my second flight, but the attendant looks hesitant.
The flight is delayed, so I miss my connecting flight and there's not a similar one until tomorrow. The airline offers to put me up in a nearby hotel, a pretty nice one, overlooking the Mediterranean swell.
I kept to schedule this morning but things outside of my control mean I've arrived in the wrong place this evening. Sitting in this hotel room, i'm feeling irrelevant to my surroundings, disassociated from where I'm meant to be. Thoroughly geographically misplaced.
I arrive in Cesme the next day. There's a few hours to spend before the wedding I set off to explore the old castle. I join the rusting guns peeping out between the wide stone crenelations, aiming my sights over the yachts in the cyan Aegean sea.
An intrusive thought occurs, this fort was misplaced too. Built to project strength and power around the Aegean, those ramparts have been flanked and enveloped by time and tourism, and those guns disassociated with their intended use. In contrast to me, it is in its intended place, but the wrong time.
I imagine which connecting flight could holiday me to the battles not present here. Unaccustomed to time travel, I retreat to an ice cream.
Back at the hotel and putting my legs through some trousers, make my way downstairs. Next I'm making small talk on a beach with a cocktail in hand. The crowd clapping announce the couple arriving. Two people in the right place at the right time.
Rory Keenan is a senior architect at Purcell
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