Off the Beaten Track: Stories by Russian Hitchhikers

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The same question must have tormented everyone who ever sat down with a blank piece of paper in front of them: where should I start? Logically, of course, it would make sense to start with a bit of history. But I’m no good with historical data and wouldn’t do a particularly good job of describing the city where I was born and used to live. To be honest, it’s probably just as well. You don’t need to know that this story happened specifically in Ufa, capital of Bashkiria. All you need to know is that it’s set in a moderately industrial city in the Urals, on the banks of the Volga, with a population of just over a million, five theatres and a state circus. How many museums? I can’t remember. See, I’d make a terrible historian.

How would a proper historian describe the city today? He (or she) would probably start by waxing lyrical on the subject of the rivers, and how they “carry their abundant waters past the white stone walls”. Well, I’m going to start at the city limits, where a sign saying UFA lets you know you’re entering a built-up area. Please refrain from sounding your horn, driver — you’re not on the highway now.

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