On the fourth of March, our group conducted its first ethnographic survey on Brooklyn’s Brighton Beach. Situated on the southern portion of Brooklyn, Brighton Beach, nicknamed Little Odessa, presents itself as a means of experiencing rich Russia culture from within the confines of suburban New York. Temperatures fluctuated between thirty and thirty-nine degrees, providing a brisk albeit tolerable environment for research during the majority of the trip. There was heavy snowfall during the early portions of the trip, but this snowfall progressively declined in rate and stopped altogether once our survey had been completed at approximately 12:30 PM.
We began our survey at the dock of Brighton Beach. If not for the dock’s metal railings, the dock and the beach’s sand would have been almost undistinguishable from one another due to the vast amount of fallen snow. Waves cascade and beat across the shoreline, disrupting the ubiquity of the snow. Gulls conglomerate spasmodically throughout the beach, oblivious to the precipitation falling around them. Life transcends the border of the shoreline. We find a man dressed in scuba gear swimming as if the temperature was not below freezing. We decided to investigate this occurrence by motioning towards him; suffice to say, our efforts were to of no avail. The man simply waved back without joining us for an interview. The man swam four laps distancing approximately 500 meters each before we lost sight of him behind a large stone embankment.
A large segment of our survey involved sampling various Russian foods. One such food was piroshki, a traditional Russian food consisting of either meat, potato, or cabbage stuffed within fried dough. I purchased the meat piroshki while each member of my group purchased either the cabbage or potato piroshki. The texture of the dough was perhaps the best part of the meal: the dough seemingly melted in the mouth and out showed whatever was held within by shear taste. This meal was supplemented with a soft drink made of whortleberry. The whortleberry in and of itself was akin in taste to a combination of cranberries, blueberries, and kiwi. The drink was slightly acidic, lending this quality to its semi kiwi-like taste. Other dishes included turkey rolled into small balls, tasting of turkey and spice; a potato salad composed of potato, sweet peas, hard-boiled eggs, turkey hot dog pieces, and scallions; and a puff pastry-like Napoleon cake soaked and infused with butter cream. The majority of these foods were eaten during the latter portion of our survey. Breads and pastries smelled as if they had just been removed from an oven, meats smelled as if they had been spiced with keen precision, and salads smelled savory and organic. At this point during the day, the weather was extremely cold. The cold seemingly penetrated whatever multiple clothing layers we wore and left us in discomfort. We shivered as we ate and trembled as we chewed. It was difficult to use our forks and our spoons; as an effect, we were forced to eat while alternating between hands. The majority of these foods were bought haphazardly from random stores in Brighton Beach. Our resident guide, Mark Rayev, recommended these foods for our group.
The sound experienced in Brighton Beach occupied two opposing sides of the same spectrum: loud, seemingly urban and calm, bereft of sound. Brighton Beach, the beach and the beach itself, was perhaps the most tranquil location visited during our brief stay. This may have been due to the inclement weather. All noise, exclusive to that of the cycling waves, was most probably produced by our group. When we walk a length of approximately 300 meters from the beginning of the beach’s dock to Brighton’s small Russian town, there was a gradual increase in noise. Sounds of waves were displaced and replaced with raucous horn honking and loud conversation. Natural serenity was replaced by machinated cacophony. These sounds, while jarring, were more indicative of urban New York life than the lack thereof near Brighton Beach.
~Robin
