Saransk: Where the Air Hangs Heavy and the Babushkas Judge
okay, so saransk. i didn’t choose saransk, alright? it was a routing thing. a very, very unfortunate routing thing involving a misread schedule and a band who really, really needed a drummer for a festival that apparently only exists in the minds of people who enjoy polka-metal.
let me tell you, the humidity here is…aggressive. like, it’s not just damp, it’s a full-on embrace. i just checked and it’s basically soup out there, and the temperature’s hovering around four degrees. feels like one, though, because apparently, the air itself is actively trying to chill you to the bone. the pressure’s weirdly high, too - makes your ears pop if you think about it too hard.
my hotel room smells faintly of mothballs and regret. the wallpaper is peeling, but honestly, it adds character. i’ve been trying to find decent *coffee, and it’s…a struggle. i found a place on Yelp that someone described as “aggressively mediocre,” which, honestly, felt accurate. the barista looked at me like i’d asked him to solve a complex equation when i requested oat milk.
someone told me the best place to eat isn’t on any maps. you gotta ask old man Dimitri by the river. apparently, he makes pelmeni that’ll change your life, but only if he likes your shoes.
the neighbors are…intense. they don’t exactly ignore you, they just…assess. constantly. like you’re a particularly strange specimen under a microscope. if you get restless, Nizhny Novgorod is a few hours by train, but honestly, i’m not sure i have the energy for another train ride right now.
i spent most of yesterday wandering around, trying to find something - anything* - to photograph. i’m a freelance photographer, and usually, i thrive on chaos, but this is…a different kind of chaos. it’s a quiet chaos. a very, very grey chaos. i did find a surprisingly cool Soviet-era fountain, though. it was guarded by a flock of pigeons who seemed deeply unimpressed with my artistic endeavors.
i overheard a conversation in a shop about the local museum. apparently, it’s “full of dust and disappointment,” but also has a surprisingly extensive collection of embroidered napkins. i’m tempted, but i’m also pretty sure i’d fall asleep within five minutes.
i’ve been trying to learn a few phrases in russian, but it’s not going well. i accidentally asked a woman if she was a potato yesterday. she did not appreciate it. i’m sticking to pointing and smiling, which seems to be universally understood, even if it’s met with suspicion.
i found a local forum (Saransk Life) where people are debating the merits of different brands of pickled cucumbers. it’s…riveting. honestly, it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all week.
someone warned me about the mosquitos. apparently, they’re the size of small birds and carry a particularly nasty strain of existential dread. i’ve invested heavily in bug spray.
i’m starting to think this polka-metal festival was a trap. a beautifully, tragically grey trap. but hey, at least i have a story to tell. and maybe, just maybe, i’ll find that life-changing pelmeni. you can find more info about the region on TripAdvisor.
oh, and if you’re ever in saransk, bring an umbrella. and a very, very thick coat. and maybe a therapist. you’ll need one. check out this travel guide for more.
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