ridin' in a rusty bus on vesyle's foggy streets

i’m sitting outside this weird old busker spot near vesyle’s central square, strumming my bass and wondering why anyone would come here. i just checked, and it’s this weird constant chill, like the air itself forgot how to warm up. the kind of temperature that makes you half-embarrassed to be outside. sure, it’s 6.82 degrees, but come on. is that even a number people here care about?

this place feels like a deflated balloon. half the benches are rusted to nothing, and the sign for the local music store is peeling off. which is fine. i’m used to that. clinks my guitar body against anything solid for rhythm. it’s the only thing keeping me from going inside because the air feels… crowded. not with people, but like thoughts. i heard that the old man who lives three doors down plays accordion at 3am. don’t ask me why. we’re not talking about why yet.

wait, there’s a photo op.


see that blue metal door? the one in the middle of the frame? locals say it’s haunted. i heard a drunk guy claim a ghost played accordion there last night. i’m not sure if he was stoned or just drunk, but i’m keeping the money from his tourist photo tip. not that i’d miss the music. it was probably just a cat. but hey, if it’s a ghost accordionist, we both win. you play, we ignore it.

this is where i started. in 2018, i was a burger flipper in minneapolis. now i’m here, selling hand-painted stickers to people who think they’re supporting a ‘local artist.’ which i am. mostly. the stickers are recycled paper and markers i stole from a dead kiosk. but ask no questions. wander away. the street is long. you’ll forget we exist.

img src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1737968692406-479207ca333c?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&w=1080&q=80" alt="There is a sign on the side of a building" width=\\100%">
img src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1590313032558-b5e78fae50a0?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&w=1080&q=80" alt="blue metal door with glass panel" width=\\100%">
img src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1739104545868-e66836138d6e?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&w=1080&q=80" alt="A view of a small town from a hill" width=\\100%">

look, if you’re bored, vesyle’s just a short drive from the big city where the real nightlife is. which is probably right. these christmas lights still on from last year? they look like a failed marriage. i heard that the local pub, the one with the sign that says ‘no dogs allowed but bringing one still is your problem,’ serves beer so flat it’s basically water. some tourist told me that. or maybe she just wanted to make a scene. which is fine. i’ve learned to take all rumors with a grain of salt and a half-empty flask.

someone told me the market’s been closed for years. that the stalls are just filled with old spices and expired jam. i tried buying a jar of blackberry jam yesterday. it was rock hard. like a cry for help. or maybe just old. either way, i took it. keep it in my bag for emergencies. which are frequent here. the weather’s mostly just… there. like it doesn’t care. which is great. i don’t care. we’re both here to exist. maybe play some sad music.

i woke up at 4am this morning because of that constant chill. not cold enough to shiver, not warm enough to numb you out. that weird spot where you’re aware of everything. i saw a stray cat catch a rat. didn’t even look shocked. just gnawed it like it was fast food. which is sad. or maybe it’s efficient. either way, i now have a tiny dead rat in my backpack. which i think is worse.

try not to ask about the numbers on the trains. they make no sense. 504935 and 1643315117? i swear, last week those were 504934 and 1643315118. it’s like vesyle’s rebelling against meaning. which is fitting. this whole town is built on fractures. cracked pavement. broken windows. bad coffee. and yet! we’re all here. playing our parts. or not. whatever. i’m just here to survive until the next song. or bus. or whatever. who knows.

ps, if you want better weather, check yelp or tripadvisor. i found a tiny cabin rental via a locals-only board on tripadvisor. link: "https://www.tripadvisor.com/ vacation/ ". just don’t tell anyone. it’s cheaper than a taxi.

also, the subway map is a riddle. handed to me by a kid who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. he said, 'follow the bird pecking at the cement.' i did. it led me here. which is fine. the bird’s name is ruslan. don’t ask why.

Anyway. i’ll play one more song. if you don’t leave by then, i’m starting a podcast about dead rats. next episode: walrus in a fridge.

You might also be interested in:

• https://votoris.com/post/finding-an-englishspeaking-doctor-in-provo-without-losing-your-mind
• https://votoris.com/post/the-local-food-scene-in-tampa-what-the-residents-actually-eat-according-to-a-sleepdeprived-busker
• https://votoris.com/post/how-i-found-a-legit-apartment-in-chiang-maim-and-almost-got-scammed
• https://votoris.com/post/mexico-city-where-the-coffees-strong-and-the-weathers-a-mystery
• https://votoris.com/post/istanbul-where-chaos-meets-coffee-and-carpets