Loen parajasti mõnusat õpikut etnoloogilisest välitööst. Kohati on näited väga meeltlahutavad, eriti kui istuda pargis, kus oled nii regulaarne, et tead juba narkodiilereid ja nemad sind ning kõik väldivad üksteist viisakalt (raamatus on ka rohkelt näited undercover-antropoloogidest, kes integreeruvad salaja kriminaalmaailma, äärmuslike ususektide, kodutute või politsei hulka). Üldse tuleb meelde igasuguseid totraid ja naeruväärseid olukordi; ja toredaid ja õnnestunuid; ning neid kõiki koos. Siis läheb päike vaikselt looja, koerajalutajad hakkavad laiali minema, tuleb keegi jooksja ja ütleb, et näed välja nagu filminäitleja, ja muld mändide all hakkab varasuveõhtuselt lõhnama.
Huvitav tõesti, miks inimesed vahel teevad, mida nad teevad, miks nad midagi muud näiteks ei tee. Mu arvamus hetkel on, sest et tore on. Eriti kui võimalus avaneb, miks mitte.
Lõik siit. Hammersley, M. & Atkinson, P., 2007. Ethnography: Principles in practice, Taylor & Francis.
Styles (antropoloogi nimi) provides an example of the early stages of learning to become a participant observer in his research on gay baths. He comments that before he started he assumed that as a gay man he was 'among the "natural clientele" of the baths. It never occured to me that I might not understand what was going on' (Styles 1979). Before going to the bath house he consulted a gay friend who frequented it:
From this conversation, I saw no major problems ahead and laid some tentative research plans. I would first scout out the various scenes of sexual activity in the bath and diagram the bath's physical and sexual layout. After observing the interaction in the various areas, I would start conversations with one or two of the customers, explaining that I was a first-time visitor, and ask them questions about their bath-going. To write fieldnotes, I could use the isolation of some of the downstairs toilets, described by my friend, which had doors that could be locked to ensure privacy.
As might have been expected, his plan did not work out as intended:
The bath was extremely crowded, noisy, and smelly. My first project -- scouting out the layout of the bath itself -- consisted of twenty or thirty minutes of pushing my between, around, and beside naked and almost-naked men jamming the hallways... I gave up on field notes when I saw the line to the downstairs toilets had half a dozen men in it... more lining up all the time. I did identify the major sexual arenas... but these were, for the most part, so dimly lit that I could see few details of behaviour and gave up on the orgy room when, after squeezing through a mass of bodies, I stumbled around in the dark, bumped into a clutch of men engaging in group sexual activity, and had my towel torn off while one of them grabbed for my genitals. I gave up on the steam room after the steam poured in and my glasses fogged over. The blaring rock Muzak, the dour looks of the customers, and a splitting headache I developed (from what I later learned was the odor of amylnitrite, a drug inhaled to enhance the sexual experience) effectively killed any desire I had for conversations.
Huvitav tõesti, miks inimesed vahel teevad, mida nad teevad, miks nad midagi muud näiteks ei tee. Mu arvamus hetkel on, sest et tore on. Eriti kui võimalus avaneb, miks mitte.
Lõik siit. Hammersley, M. & Atkinson, P., 2007. Ethnography: Principles in practice, Taylor & Francis.
Styles (antropoloogi nimi) provides an example of the early stages of learning to become a participant observer in his research on gay baths. He comments that before he started he assumed that as a gay man he was 'among the "natural clientele" of the baths. It never occured to me that I might not understand what was going on' (Styles 1979). Before going to the bath house he consulted a gay friend who frequented it:
From this conversation, I saw no major problems ahead and laid some tentative research plans. I would first scout out the various scenes of sexual activity in the bath and diagram the bath's physical and sexual layout. After observing the interaction in the various areas, I would start conversations with one or two of the customers, explaining that I was a first-time visitor, and ask them questions about their bath-going. To write fieldnotes, I could use the isolation of some of the downstairs toilets, described by my friend, which had doors that could be locked to ensure privacy.
As might have been expected, his plan did not work out as intended:
The bath was extremely crowded, noisy, and smelly. My first project -- scouting out the layout of the bath itself -- consisted of twenty or thirty minutes of pushing my between, around, and beside naked and almost-naked men jamming the hallways... I gave up on field notes when I saw the line to the downstairs toilets had half a dozen men in it... more lining up all the time. I did identify the major sexual arenas... but these were, for the most part, so dimly lit that I could see few details of behaviour and gave up on the orgy room when, after squeezing through a mass of bodies, I stumbled around in the dark, bumped into a clutch of men engaging in group sexual activity, and had my towel torn off while one of them grabbed for my genitals. I gave up on the steam room after the steam poured in and my glasses fogged over. The blaring rock Muzak, the dour looks of the customers, and a splitting headache I developed (from what I later learned was the odor of amylnitrite, a drug inhaled to enhance the sexual experience) effectively killed any desire I had for conversations.
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