I think Dan must have took my last post to heart and was determined to make this summer weekend a little less "boring" for me. So this Saturday, we embarked on a day trip to Brighton Beach and Coney Island!
First item on the agenda: Eat a bialy. Believe it or not, despite being in a city filled with bagel shops, I don't recall ever having a bialy before, which is a Polish bread with a depression in the middle. Dan found out one of the original bakeries, Coney Island Bialys and Bagels, is going out of business this fall, so we stopped there for a quick bite. It wasn't exactly mind-blowing, but I am glad we experienced it at least once.
Because we needed some more carbs that morning, our next stop was Georgian Bread. Dan had read that this little bread shop had lines around the block, but when we got to this nondescript, hole-in-the-hall, blink-it-you'll-miss-it destination, there was no wait. We ordered the khachapuri. Now this was something special. It was bready and cheesy and warm. Almost like a pizza with no sauce. Amazing!
Georgian Bread on Neptune Ave.
Yep, that's all there is to it.
A little bit of bread and cheese heaven.
Strolling on Brighton Beach Avenue feels like you are transplanted to another country called Russia. Seriously, you don't hear anyone speaking English. Some old man tried to converse with me and when I said in English, "I don't speak Russian," he looked confused. It was entertaining to watch the people out and about, shopping for fruits and vegetables, buying strange Russian shampoos and pastries from tables set up on the street and browsing the many shoe stores. We passed by not one, but TWO fur stores, and there people were actually shopping in them. In the dead of summer. It was awesome.
Dan, getting some reading done.
Creepy Russian dolls at Kid World. I kind of wanted one.
The beach from afar.
This is the closest we got to the sand.
We walked on the boardwalk from Brighton Beach to Coney Island, where we stopped to watch some intense hand-ball. This is a very serious sport in these parts, where it is obvious that people come out to not only play but be a spectator. Dan definitely wanted to be part of the action.
The handball courts
Dan tries to fit in with the boys.
Once we got to Coney Island, Dan wanted to ride the Cyclone. Now, everyone knows that I absolutely hate roller coasters, and no, it's not because I am too scared to go on them, and I just haven't "realized" how fun they are. That's what everyone tells me. I have been peer-pressured by enough "friends" to ride them and know from firsthand experience that no, I actually despise the feeling of free fall and I never want to voluntarily subject myself to the feeling of my stomach rattling in my throat.
When Dan and I first started dating, we went to Coney Island and I wanted him to think I was fun-loving and cool and interesting, so I rode the Cyclone with him. I hated every second of it. That rickety thing looks innocent but it is basically a free fall terror machine. But hey, it got me the guy. So this time around, I didn't have to prove anything. Hopefully by now, he's figured out the truth about me.