Zoey’s p. o. v
As we walk down to the grand lobby of the resort, I was greeted by a dazzling display of crystal chandeliers, plush velvet furnishings, and intricate marble flooring. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft murmur of classical music playing in the background.
Classic but home friendly, I commend. Totally my style, we keep it classy and elegant but homey.
“Ma’am, which one are you going with?” Annette asked. She is more compose than the other girl, Marco must have demand for someone else.
She has filled me in on the activities they had in stock, they have Spa.
Furthermore, she went in further to boast about their spa service, saying it’s a world-class spa that offered a range of indulgent treatments and therapies. Guests could relax and unwind in the steam room, sauna, or Jacuzzi, or indulge in a rejuvenating massage or facial. The spa also featured a state-of-the-art fitness center, where guests could work out with a personal trainer or participate in various fitness classes.
I’m not in for spa treatment today, and for the fitness center, I’m already late for it.
Then for pool lounging, she stated they had a stunning outdoor oasis complete with a heated swimming pool, sun loungers, and cabanas. Guests could sip on handcrafted cocktails and savor gourmet snacks while soaking up the sun and enjoying the breathtaking views of the city skyline.
I’m not in for that either, what’s more tempting for me is the workshop, the workshop includes, painting studio, pottery work place and crafts making. Sounds so thrilling, I’m so going to partake in each of them.
There are other activities like, archery, darts, and rifle shootings. But I only partake in those activities with Marco.
“I’ll go to the workshop first, then get a massage later.” I replied.
“Okay ma’am, this way please.” She leads the way to the side of the lobby, “What would you be working on?”
I thought about it, and painting seem less tiring and appropriate right now.
“Painting.” I hummed softly.
We seem to have arrived at the workshop, she took a turn leading me to the painting studio. And when she opened the door to the studio, my breath was knocked out of me.
Wow!
The painting studio was a sanctuary of creativity, a place where colors danced on canvases and imaginations ran wild. The room was filled with the scent of turpentine and the soft hum of classical music playing in the background. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the easels and paint-splattered tables, and giving a great view of the outside.
The walls were adorned with finished masterpieces, each one telling a unique story through brushstrokes and hues. Some paintings were vibrant and bold, while others were soft and ethereal. Each piece reflected the artist’s emotions and experiences, capturing moments with stunning clarity.
In one corner of the studio, a young woman sat hunched over her canvas, her fingers stained with paint as she carefully blended colors together. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she brought her vision to life, the brush moving with fluid grace across the surface.
Beside her, an elderly man worked on a portrait, his hands unsteady as he captured the essence of his subject with precision and skill. His eyes sparkled with a quiet joy as he added the finishing touches, a smile of satisfaction gracing his weathered face.
A couple that seem to be on vacation too, was beside an space which Annette was leading me too much to my dismay. My heart stung, as I watch the couple happily create their masterpiece, but push it down.
Everything I needed to start my created has been prepared besides the blank canvas, fruits, and cookies were also made available on the other side of the canvas.
Annette went over to the mini fridge at the far corner of the room, while I took my seat before the canvas.
“Hi.” The lady greeted, drawing my attention to them once more.
“Hello.” I let out a smile to grace my face.
“I’m Caroline, and that’s my husband, Gaston.” She introduced, smiling sheepishly. The French accent was dripping from each words of her, a native.
Her husband waved at me before focusing on this course.
“I’m Zoey, nice to meet you here.” I simpered genuinely.
“You seem like a foreigner.” She stated plain, of course meaning no disrespect.
“I am.” I chuckled softly, “From the US.” I responded.
“Oh wonderful, are you on a lone trip?” She probed.
Annette arrived just then with jar of juice, filled my glass and drop the jar on the table.
“I will be outside if you need me, enjoy.” I nod at her dismissively, and she left.
“No, I came with my husband, but he has some work to finish in town.” I took a sip from the juice.
Man! It was nice and tasty, luring you to finish everything in one gulp.
Caroline and I made small talks throughout our works, exchanging details of our various countries. She made my stay in the studio fun and enjoyable, the laughs and gossip was relaxing.
I thought, I was going to be bored throughout the painting session, but that wasn’t the case with Caroline beside me. She left with her husband a while ago, finishing their painting I did.
I almost tear up at the sight of what they painted, it’s a family of four, dad, mom, son, and a daughter. Apparently, they’ve been married for a while now and are hoping for kids, but to no avail.
So they drew what they want their complete family should look, in hopes that their wish gets fulfilled someday.
It was really heart touching, and I genuinely wish them well. Caroline and I had exchanged numbers because we plan to explore more of the workshop some other time.