The beach reflected in the mirrors in front of Tatiana Cafe. Photo credit: Jessica Scranton

Although it may seem odd, a trip to Brighton Beach on one of the coldest days of the year just seemed to make sense. New York apartments are notorious for being dry and overheated and I had been hunkered down in mine for weeks, resisting the cold months as fully as possible. I needed to surrender to winter, an act that does not come naturally to me or my Mediterranean blood. The Russian community that dominates Brighton Beach is well acquainted with the cold and know how to live well with it. From them I would take my cues.

Underneath the subway tracks, I pressed through the crowds of Sunday shoppers on Brighton Beach Avenue toward the boardwalk and the great, freezing Atlantic Ocean. I breathed in its promise, knowing its frigid response was not a rejection, just a “not yet.” Here on this stretch of the Brooklyn Riviera, elderly Russians dressed richly in furs huddled together against the green wall of the boardwalk. Yet, the mood was distinctly solitary as few people spoke to each other. If I looked too closely, people would avert my gaze. When I picked up my camera, hands appeared and bodies picked themselves up and moved on. A casual smile or hello was met with a stern turning away. This was winter, people seemed to say, a time for quiet and solitude.
>> Read on to find out what was discovered in Brighton Beach >>