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Fieldwork Observation Essay #1 (Life Within the Market)

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Gabriel Gjyla

Professor von Uhl

21002-C

3/6/2018

Life within the Market

Have you ever stopped and realized how a market is so much more than the food it sells? A simple question as to “what kind of pasta should I get?” can create a meaningful conversation between two members of a community that can turn into a friend for life. An old man in a cigar store can give you information about an entire community. A manager can tell you how the market looked like when it first opened, as well as the changes that have occurred in the current time. A kid talking to his parents about potential colleges he wants to join, while having a cup of coffee at the cafe.  Whether or not we understand, our markets seem to have a life of their own, with a community of people who have years of wisdom to share if you can just ask them.  A community is formally defined as a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals. While observing the Arthur Avenue Retail Market and all the merchants within, I came to see just how important the sense of the community is within those walls.

I regularly go to this market at least once a week to buy my groceries, which consists of mainly meats, fish, cheese, and olives.  It has been this way for as long as I remember. I was so excited when my dad took me when I was younger. However, I don’t go into all the merchants, just my preferred ones for the items I need and then leave. My plan was to enter the places that I didn’t normally go to, in order to get a better sense of the community in there. As soon as I walk in, a sense of Italy is hard to miss. All around the market were Italian and Americans flags flying

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high, with the Italian flags being slighter bigger. I assumed that the reason for that is because of the grand Italian pride in the community, shown in the flags as well. Then the smell hit me out of nowhere. I could smell cheeses, meats, fruits and vegetables all around me, even behind me. From the speakers around the area was Italian opera music from the merchants. I would say that the music was blasting, but it was calming and comforting enough to welcome customers while making sure they knew it was an Italian community.

Taking a few steps forward, I arrived at the first merchant store, which was “LCG Cigars”. Interestingly enough, there were a group of four friends who were deep in conversation and laughter.  They looked like they were in their 50s, with each of them having a mustache that would make even Steve Harvey jealous. Sitting in an old, wooden table, they were smoking cigars and slamming the table from laughter. As I approached them to ask for some quick questions, they suddenly got quiet and were looking at me weirdly. I assumed it was because I looked like I was going to interrogate them, with a pen and paper in my hand. But after introducing myself and stating why I was there, I got them to speak freely. One of the guys caught my attention especially because he noticed I was Albanian, without me ever announcing it. This guy was named Eduardo, and he told me if I’m not Italian in the community today, then I am most likely Albanian or Russian.  Eduardo told me about this Little Italy community and especially the community within the store from the different merchants. He said that since 1940, when this market first opened up, a lot has changed. He went on to say “ There were more Italians back in the day, while today the ones who worked here got rich and got homes upstate.” As a grandpa (who look liked a Italian OG) walked with his grandson through the market, I understood how important this neighborhood and market was for this aging man, and could only

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imagine the kinds of things he went through in his childhood, which made it especially endearing to see how he spread his knowledge into his grandson in hopes of continuing their Italian traditions. This man clearly had a deep insight into the area and its changing history, which is why his actions with his grandson were so compelling to my understanding of this community.

As I toured through the market, I immersed myself within this community by buying some chicken wings from Peter’s Meat Market. Looking around, there was a poster of Saint Valentine; while on the counter was Valentine’s Day cards and candy still waiting to be brought. I don’t think people would buy sweets for their loved ones from a place where meat is chopped up in front of them, but to each their own! The sound of the various meats being chopped up would have made a vegetarian run scared, especially when the sound of bone being ripped apart by a steel knife was a mere five feet away from me. To my right side, there was a figure of the Italian Pope Paul III, with the words “There is no redemption from Hell” written out in bold letters. I asked an employee why he would choose to place that quote when it could deter away customers. His response was simple, “That’s how I grew up.” Intrigued by this, he noticed my confusion and explained that his Italian mother wasn’t always a sweet person, telling him that the real world will try to bring you down and straight to Hell. It was inspiring to see how his life led to him working a block from his original home address back in the 60s, which shows that some people don’t want to leave an area they’ve known as home for as long as they remember.

The last place I toured was the Café Al Mercato, which to be honest was not really a tour because that is usually where I relax after time spent getting produce, which makes me an insider of the cafe.  The scene of this café is so picturesque of an Italian setting, being filled with long and wide paintings of the infamous Lake Como in Italy, a dream vacation of mine since forever.

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The sense of the community was all around me. At the counter, I overheard a woman saying to her friend that “Paulie needs to cut down on the sweets or he won’t have the energy to march in the Columbus Day Parade this year.”  From a family seated next to me, a little boy was expressing nothing but joy when he finally got the Italian national soccer team’s jersey, telling his dad that he will play for Italy when he gets older.  As I ordered my cappuccino, with their specially made fresh basils put for a sweet treat, I noticed the cashier talk to a guy who stated that he was an off-duty firefighter. As soon as he sat down, I told him about my appreciation for this market and he was glad to talk about it as well. This man’s name was Miguel, a 45 year old, who had a firefighter-inspired buzz cut. He went on about his job, saying that he found his calling to be a firefighter when a firefighter from the neighborhood saved his life when he was young. Since he was Puerto Rican, he told me how he met his wife in the same neighborhood where he works.  He told me “I love my Italian wife, Firenza, she is beautiful and a great mother, but sometimes Italian women can be a real pain in the ass!”  As I left the café, one of the workers gave me a fresh mozzarella cheese sample to encourage me to buy from their stand, in awe of the commitment they have to their customers.

As I contemplated about my eventful day, I focused on how important this market is to the community, and how it has brought people together into the community throughout generations. Going forward, the goal is to keep in mind how this area in Little Italy has inspired a new generation of New Yorkers to appreciate their neighborhood and have a better sense of ‘home.’ Whether people come to work or get produce, they will most likely leave with a small talk/conversation with the people who are the heart and soul of Little Italy, a place which I have fallen in love with all over again. The memories that this retail market makes for the community

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will serve a decade, or even throughout generations. Throughout my experience, I felt welcomed, surprised, intrigued, fascinated, and comforted, and I can’t wait until my next weekly visit to the market.


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