General

The hotel lobby is classy in the most unclassy way possible. It has all the corporate taste for opulent items without the slightest touch of personality - those little out of sync items that makes decor "human." Maybe that's deliberate. It could be that in this chaotic world we are attracted to spaces devoid of such things. I see that in our relationship with devices and keeping our real friends on the other side of a pixilated screen - a stripped down version of friendship for easy digestion. The deep brown floor shines as well any polished glass. There are flowers, beautiful, the perfect shade of orange to compliment the woody hues and creams. On closer inspection their stamens have been pulled to prevent even the pollen disturbing the perfect sheen on the mahogany pedestal tables.

General

The hotel has a beach hut feel right from the lobby. If anything it works a little too well - the staff looking like they're on vacation too. From behind the low reception desk, a huge chunk of driftwood covered in sea shells, sits a man slumped in a deck chair. His straw hat is tilted to obscure his face as he dozes, hands over his stomach, knitted together by interlocked fingers. Before I can open my mouth the phone rings, jolting him from his slumber. At first he has wild eyes, alarmed by both the telephone and me standing so close. Then he picks up the phone only to set it back on the receiver unanswered.

General

The hotel lobby has the same odour as my Nan's old folks home. The floor carpet is a decade too old and with an old fashioned pattern of large flowers interrupted by worn and thread-bare patches. The large windows should allow a lot of light through, yet the heavy drapes and city dirt on the panes leaves it dull to the point of depression. Oliver stops, the park bench suddenly looking like an attractive option after all.

General

The lobby of the hotel is more like the reception of a new high-rise: small, bland and with only one staff member. He smiles like a photo, eyes remaining still, taking my details and checking identification. When the elevator opens to the first floor I almost choke in surprise - this is the real lobby. Apparently whatever is below is just the security screening.

General

The hotel lobby is sparse on the usual ornate detailing, more geometrical than classical. The colours are in the palate of a beach, every hue from golden sand to the rich wood of a fishing boat. The accent colours are the sky and the sea, all of it the perfect compliment to the onshore breeze that brings a salty fragrance. Whoever runs this place knows their plants, or at least employs someone who does. Every possible place for a plant has one, lending their virescent hues to finish the colour scheme perfectly. I pride myself on knowing what the hotel experience will be from the lobby and I have a great feeling about this one.

General

The floor was tiled in fine marble, which made every step echo. A chandelier made rainbow colors dance across the luxurious lobby. Embroidered silk sofas surrounded a large, flat-screen television. The twin doors that led into the lobby were a pristine white with golden handles. The desk was made of amber-colored wood and a green granite top. Exquisite paintings hung from the rich, red walls. Even the door hinges were engraved with swirls and elegant designs. The domed ceiling rose at least 100 feet high. Adriav gaped at the splendid sight.

By Liz Newsom, March 13, 2014.
General

It was homely, but not plain. A pair of mighty antlers adorned the mantle of the rustic lobby. A great fur rug covered the floor of golden wood panels. Thick, luxuriant sofas were crowded around the flagstone fireplace, forming a semi-circle. The fire pit was filled with wooden logs, flickering with flames. The polished lobby desk was made of cherry-wood. Warm smells of home-cooking wafted through the warm air. The cozy atmosphere was a welcome change from the remote, frigid forest.

By Liz Newsom, March 13, 2014.
General

The hotel lobby is so Mediterranean; from the terracotta tile to the high ceiling fans I could be in the Balearic Isles. There is so much light and openness, much like the people who are lucky enough to call this place home. I'd live here if I wasn't used to such a fast paced life, maybe one day I will. But right now too long here and I'd be like a deep ocean fish pulled up too fast, exploding from the lack of pressure. The music is soft, the colours gentle to the eye and the large dining room already laid out with a glorious buffet.

General

Quickly nature had reclaim what was hers. Spreading her spiny fingers on the wall. Here grew life. Moss on the dampness of this fine wallpaper. Once water had been introduced, the structure of the building quickly broke down and nature took over. In the middle of this once plush carpet of gold weaved into reds, was a growing flower. Standing to attention, like the middle finger of natures hand, in an up yours moment to man. To the battlefield on concrete surrounding it, here in the midst of death was life. Seeds had drifted down from the world above them, and there were patches of water on the carpet, some a little deeper then others and the gutter had been clogged with human blood and rain, from the fight above them. Soon vegetation broke through the bricks and claimed real victory. While the humans fought on with each other and failed over and over. This now beautiful hotel was a ruin, but it was still beautiful in so many other ways. Nothing had changed, it was just under different management.

By ingsey, December 30, 2015*.