All that changed after the
collapsed and Russians made a mass immigration into New York, taking this area over. All the signs in are now in English and
Russian, including the post office. Far more upscale than it used
to be, the avenue is lined with produce stalls and bakeries, a few clothing
stores, a furrier, and stores selling international foods. Brighton
It’s quite interesting to wander the food stores, but it can be tricky because sometimes the labels are written entirely in Russian. The tea selections are phenomenal. One store has a wall of teas in different types of containers and a large table covered with loose teas in jars. But the aisles in all the stores are very narrow - not room for two people to pass without one giving way.
The subway train is elevated in
, running along Brighton
This creates a very loud noise whenever a trains runs overhead, but
provides nice shade in the summer.
There’s no elevator to the train, so you have to drag your shopping bags up the
stairs. I bought a little cart for
shopping, but still, getting up the subway stairs was a chore.
There’s a restaurant in
that makes a beautiful, 3-layered
cappucino (there were probably many places in Brighton
Beach Brighton who
made cappucino this way, but once I found this one, I stuck to it). I used to go there once a week to write. Afterwards, I shopped at the various stores,
but after a while, I had to stop shopping in Bright because I found some of the
populace a bit too hard to bear.
Many citizens in
emigrated from Brighton
at an advanced age. From what I
understand, they live in New York
subsidized housing and received other types of government assistance, which
stands to reason since they lived under Communist Russia where the government
controlled so many aspects of living. They were probably used to shortages, needing to get to the head of the line quickly, or
at least that’s how I excused their physical aggressiveness when shopping.
The lines in the stores were always long, although, whenever men entered the stores, they never waited in line. They simply stepped to the front of the line and got waited on. No one ever objected. I was afraid to, because the few times a guy stepped in front of me, I smelled liquor. I wasn’t going to push my luck.
The women didn’t mind being aggressive with each other and had no qualms about putting their hands on me and pushing if I didn’t move forward as soon as someone in front of me moved forward. One day, a very large, old woman pushed me down in order to get past me, claiming she had been in line before me. I got the manager and made a bit of a fuss – really wishing I had a cattle prod with me – but I knew I wasn’t going to change this type of mentality.
After that, I decided not to return to
to shop. Brighton Beach
Post by Alana Cash