Descriptive Essay About Bed And Breakfast

I waited till exactly 12:00 to get out of my car at St. John's. Shaking, I walked to the entrance. The huge double-doors welcomed me to the church. I had to rethink my decision if I was really going to go in there. I didn’t know who was in there or what they wanted. Still shaking, I slowly and steadily tipped toed inside. I popped off the ground like a cat when the double-doors slammed together making a violent ruckus. The only light that shined in the church was at the end of the long walkway. It was a note that

“There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land…I had never before looked up at the sky when there was not a familiar mountain ridge against it. But this was the complete dome of heaven, all there was of it. I did not believe that my dead father and mother were watching me from up there; they would still be looking for me at the sheep-fold down by the creek…. I had left even their spirits behind me. The wagon jolted on, carrying me I knew not whither. I don't think I was homesick. If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: here, I felt, what would be would be.” This new surrounding is the beginning of an adventure for

As I exited the metro bus and stepped into the cold, wet, and way-too-early Saturday morning air, my mind pounded with the self-scolding, “Why am I awake. Why am I awake?”. The second I looked up at the grey-blue sky, however, all dread evaporated. Instead, the gorgeous sight ahead filled me with an incredulous awe. The Washington National Cathedral stood towering in cream-colored splendor, its richly detailed Gothic architecture almost too picturesque to fathom. Intricate spires stood proudly against the low-hanging clouds, as if taunting them to rain. Stunned, I began to follow my friends along a blue stone path surrounded by vivid greenery. As I walked, the chill air invigorated my lungs with each breath, filling me with a sort of peaceful energy. The path led to a smaller, yet still grandiose building which we entered through two large glass doors.

The trip to the church that was in the middle of nowhere was a 20-minute drive from the city of Asheboro and the roads were seemingly nonexistent. Fortunately, there were signs posted along the country dirt roads to guide the drivers towards the parking lot. The first thing that can be seen after getting out of the car was a small

That morning was absolutely perfect as the daylight broke in.The easy, warm air was lightened by the glowing sun and breathless blue Florida sky. I could hear seagulls flying up above, and there was a breeze traveling through the canal. On the boat we kids sat up front by the bow, mostly because the adults don’t wish to be

A hot and blistering day, no clouds insight as the sun beams my face. So excruciating, my face smells like burnt trash. As I am waiting for the bus to pass by, there are several children playing on the swings across the street. The bus arrives and off I go heading to a town known for "Hope". As I arrive to the town of Plateros. I marched like wild fire to the temple. The journey, not an easy journey because I had to push and shove people out of the way just to get to the temple. It seems if I was back in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Finally, as I stand at the front gates which happens to be massive? So massive they appeared to be touching the sky. I strolled through the gate and notice all the stairs just to get to the top. I remember the time of the Aztec 's pyramids where they would do human sacrifices for their Gods. As I make my way up the stairs like a captive. Once at the top of the stairs I stood this beautiful temple and what caught my eye was the outer structure.

The photograph enveloped me into a brief essence of sanctity in behalf of the articles surrounding the church. The placement of everything in the picture seemed so perfect that I believed it had to have been artificial. The clouds draw the eye toward the tip of the spire where a cross sits, the building is standing on the highest elevation of earth—as if to reach the heavens, and all the more, the two largest

During the current Easter break, I ventured to Denver, Colorado with two others. The day after our arrival, I broke away from the group for a short period of time to visit Riverside Cemetery. Peering through the cemetery’s aligned headstones as if they were rows of filled bookshelves, my pupils skimmed from one headstone to the next, searching for an appealing name to take home to investigate like it was a book to check out from the library.

I was lost. I circled La Salle Street in East Aurora for the third time looking for anything that resembled a church. There were closed or abandoned storefronts along the road, but there was no church. I checked the address again and thought about going home. I was already feeling nervous about visiting a Hispanic bilingual church alone, and now I was frustrated as I drove around in a circle for the fourth time. As I headed to the end of the block, I glanced at a small easel sign on the sidewalk. It said, “Igelsia Christiana” and had an arrow pointing to the left. I had driven through that intersection several times but had failed to notice the sign before.

A cathedral is known to be a place where a person performs religious practices in the light of one or more deities. Cathedrals can connect people who share the same beliefs by gathering them all together; the same goes for any religion. In the short story, “Cathedral,” written by Raymond Carver, the controlling image is a cathedral, as it is repetitive from becoming the title of the story to the main symbol through the entirety of the narration. Carver makes an appeal to emphasize that – through the story’s plot, his style of writing, the captivating use of imagery, and the overall theme of the story – a simple building can shed some light on how one chooses to view the world.

Sister Muriel, who was also my grandmother, and who I affectionately referred to as granny, was a bit more tired than usual on the eve of December 10, 1958. She headed to the Sisters' dorm a little earlier than usual. She climbed the stairs and enjoyed the cool breeze that blew against her face. That night she felt reflective about the good times with her husband. She missed him. However, the quiet, cool evening allowed her to sleep restfully, that is—until she was jarred awake and saw the entire building lit up around each of the bunks. Muriel’s daughter Barbara, who is also my mother, was on the bunk above. She expressed how beautiful the light was on the hill. By this time the whole dorm was awake. Although it may have seemed beautiful to Barbara, my grandmother Muriel, was

“Be grateful Jenny! We shall stay here and be happy.” Josephine pestered, “Get settled in, and we’ll go straight to the restaurant, we have to open at 11:00 sharp!” It was 9:30 AM and the sun was peeking down from behind a small ivory cloud as if it were a child playing hide and seek with its’ mother. A wave of pungent sweat poured from my grandmother’s pores and dripped off like a rainstorm. In a time period that seemed like weeks, they finally left the shack and embarked on their journey to the new restaurant.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for our trip to commence, we finally arrived on the dreamy island. Rather than staying at a hotel, we rented a beach house that was supposedly only a six minute walk from Marco Island Beach. While pulling up to the magnificent home, I was holding back tears of joy. The pale grayish-blue house looked like it had jumped right out of a framed photograph hanging up in the waiting room of a doctor's office. Among it’s

I’m sitting in my room that I have now, taking some time, and imagining what my magical bedroom would be like. My magical, imaginary bedroom would be out of this world, extraordinary. Something many people probably dream about, but know they would not, or could not have. It would be a dream come true if I could actually have a bedroom like this. I also wished my family and I could live in an extremely big house. With many rooms, such as, a big kitchen, a two car garage, 3 bathrooms, and 4 bedrooms, one for guests.

1. Using the example chart in the textbook for business models, illustrate and compare the value proposition for Airbnb, large hotels such as Marriot and Hilton and bed & breakfasts.