As food prices surge, Russians stop buying fruit, ignore expiration dates, and brace for more hikes
One of the biggest concerns for Russians at the start of this year is the rapid rise in the cost of basic necessities. Across the country, prices for vegetables, fruit, meat, dairy products, pet food, and other everyday goods have climbed sharply. Meduza asked its Russian readers from different regions how higher prices are reshaping their daily lives — and what they’re bracing for next. We’ve translated some of the most notable responses into English.
The following first-person accounts have been lightly edited and abridged for length and clarity.
Oskar
Moscow and Obninsk
I’m a student, and it’s genuinely awful. In 2023 (I was still in 11th grade then), my daily budget was about 600 rubles [about $8]. I could buy cottage cheese for breakfast, a pack of pelmeni, sour cream, butter, and some vegetables. Today my budget is around 900 rubles [about $12] a day, and I’m lucky if I can afford a piece of decent meat.
I’m constantly talking myself out of buying things because there’s still something else left at home. Eating out is a luxury. If I do eat out, that means I don’t eat anything at home that whole day.
I’ve completely given up the sweets I grew up with, and I’ve stopped eating bananas. They used to be the cheapest fruit. Now I can’t afford them anywhere. The only meat I can really afford is bacon, sausages, chicken (sometimes), or a pretty fatty piece of pork. I don’t make blini anymore, because you need several ingredients and they’re gone in a day. In general, I try not to buy anything that will be gone in one day — only things I can stretch.
Socializing is expensive. People my age like going to cafés, especially in winter, but I can’t afford to spend 400 rubles [more than $5] on a coffee, because then I won’t have anything to eat. Inviting people over is impossible too; I don’t even have anything to offer with tea. Going out [to a restaurant]? It’s more expensive than a café. So I stay home and eat potatoes.
Prices will keep rising, and I’ll cry, try to earn more, stretch my budget, and give up something else.
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Tamara
Saratov
I’m retired, and my pension is 22,000 rubles [$287] a month. Luckily, I live with my son — he covers utilities and helps with groceries too. The day before yesterday I went to the store and bought a red bell pepper for a salad. It was almost 400 rubles per kilo [about $2.37 per pound]; I paid 63 rubles [82 cents] for one pepper.
My daughter lives in France. She converted the price at the current exchange rate and said that’s how much red peppers cost in their supermarket. A 400-gram [14-ounce] can of green peas costs 90 rubles [$1.17], and about half of it is water. Is that normal? Thank God, at least Greek yogurt (according to my daughter) is still about half the price here compared to France.
Now I shop more often, and I buy just enough to eat.
Marusya
Novosibirsk
Because of rising prices, I had to start working part-time as a courier — and I have a college degree and graduated with honors. Every trip to the grocery store feels like a punch to the wallet, like I’m buying designer clothes instead of food. I’m really scared about the future. While I’m young and don’t have kids, I’ll survive. But how are people supposed to survive with children, or later in life, when health problems start?
Tomatoes, cucumbers, juice, dairy products, sausage, cheese, meat, sweets — everything has gone up by about 30 percent compared to two years ago, and some things even more. Now, when I walk into a store, I look for the cheapest alternatives and spend a long time debating whether I really need some treat, or if I can just eat buckwheat with a sausage and get by. I weigh every item carefully. I plan an evening with good home-cooked food the way I used to plan going out to a restaurant.
I’m afraid prices will only keep rising. What can I do? I’ll try to tighten my belt and buy cheaper things, and to give up other pleasures so I can at least afford healthy food like fish or meat.
Anonymous
St. Petersburg
I’m a blind person living in St. Petersburg. I usually work as a writer and editor on social projects for social media, but right now I’m unemployed. My only regular income is my disability benefit. I rent an apartment, and I have a guide dog and two cats.
The way prices have risen is just brutal. Everything is expensive: food, public transportation, pet supplies, veterinary care. Some things are up five percent, others 20 percent. I don’t keep exact statistics — it’s bad enough as it is. These are recurring expenses, and they’re eating a hole in me.
Luckily, my rent is still relatively humane (I moved to a cheaper neighborhood), and so are my medications. Still, I catch myself wondering whether there’s any way to save on medicine, which feels awful. At least I don’t need to regularly replace my assistive equipment. What’s provided for free isn’t really usable, and what you actually have to pay for costs a fortune.
Lately, I’m constantly searching for discounts and cheaper alternatives. I struggle to find food for my pet with allergies that both works and fits into my budget. Over the past year, I’ve almost stopped using taxis. No new gadgets, no major purchases. New clothes are a rare event. No paid medical services, even though I need them.
I’m hoping to find a new job and not end up living on bread and water by the end of the year. But lately, even long-term planning feels like a luxury I can’t afford.
Roman
Primorsky Krai
Prices are rising — that’s a fact. Some products have simply disappeared from the shelves. Apparently, they were already being sold on razor-thin margins. Dairy products, fish, grains and pasta (except for the very cheapest kinds), bottled water (including mineral water), candy, and coffee have all gone up.
We buy the cheapest milk and make fermented dairy products ourselves. We only buy cheese when it’s on sale, or fake. We try to order coffee online; you can still find decent beans there. If the delivery isn’t urgent, it comes out about 40 percent cheaper. Same with candy — we mostly buy it online now.
Everything will either keep getting more expensive or disappear altogether. We’re planning to get more chickens (for meat and eggs), maybe a goat and a pig. We’ll plant more vegetables and expand the greenhouse. I’ll start going fishing not just for fun, but to actually have fish to eat.
Galina
Irkutsk
Given how much the war costs Russia every single day, the damage sanctions have done to the economy, and so on, rising prices in stores don’t surprise me. What surprises me are the people who are either so naive or so oblivious to what’s happening around them. They’re shocked by prices in stores, because we’re supposedly a “great power,” and officials keep reporting constant “growth” in [all sectors] and how Russia has only grown stronger under sanctions.
Only a few people turn on their critical thinking and draw logical conclusions. Everyone else finds it more comfortable to tell themselves that Putin doesn’t know, that these are temporary difficulties, or that it’s all the work of “enemies.” Some even advise people to “tighten their belts” and endure it all for “victory’s” sake: “For a righteous cause and victory over the rotten West, you can gnaw on dry bread.”
I’ve switched to cheaper alternatives, and that’s clearly affected quality and taste. I’ve stopped buying certain kinds of cheese. If the whole family goes to a sushi restaurant, I choose cheaper options or order just one thing, because a bill for three now comes out twice as high as it did a year ago. This isn’t a catastrophe, given what others are dealing with, but these are the changes I notice in my own life. My family and I work more than before, and can afford much less. I won’t even start on vacations, appliances, or furniture.
I think things will get worse in the near future. On the one hand, I worry about my family — whether I’ll be able to pay for medical care for elderly relatives, what we’ll even eat. On the other hand, considering how much harm, death, and destruction my country brings to Ukraine every day (in my name), these are inevitable consequences. Sometimes I even feel a grim satisfaction when I hear people complaining about prices in stores. But will they draw conclusions that affect public support for the war and the authorities? I hope so — but I’m not sure.
When I went to rallies and protests, people mocked me and called me a “Western agent,” loudly showing off their “patriotism.” Are they ready to go hungry for that patriotism? We’ll see. If tightening our belts is what it takes for Ukraine’s victory and the collapse of the regime, I’m ready.
Natalia
Vladivostok
Lately, just the thought of going to the grocery store fills me with rage. I used to be able to afford beef, sour cream, red fish, good chocolate. Now basic ingredients for making vareniki cost about 860 rubles [$11.23] at the most popular store in the Far East. I don’t even look at prices for anything more expensive.
For almost a year now, I’ve been surviving on expired food sold near my building. You can buy bread for 60–70 rubles [between 78 and 90 cents], a bag of vegetables for 20 [26 cents], flour for 30 [39 cents], a couple of kilos of meat for 100 [$1.31], sweets at reasonable prices, and so on. At first it’s really unpleasant to eat food like that. Then you get used to it and accept it. There’s simply no other way to eat.
I can’t imagine what will happen next or how much prices will rise. Every month, things get worse. You find old receipts and start crying. Prices will definitely keep going up — when have prices in this country ever gone down? I feel like nothing good is coming.
Alexander
Sterlitamak
I feel like crying and screaming from exhaustion and hopelessness. I want a normal youth — not this fucking nightmare. Sorry.
By local standards, I earn a decent income. I spend carefully, mostly buying things on sale. So while price increases are noticeable, they affect my nerves more than they create real hardship. I won’t go hungry.
What worries me much more is how my family [members are] getting by — both the older and the younger ones. My grandparents live on pensions. My parents earn modest wages and have kids to support. My sister is a student.
Their incomes aren’t growing — and where would the money come from in small local businesses anyway? Scholarships even less so. And of course kids want a treat sometimes; a young woman wants something nice to wear. There’s really nowhere left for them to cut back — they never lived in luxury to begin with.
To say that I’m worried about them is an understatement. I was already helping them financially, directly and indirectly, and now I’ll have to do even more. But my money isn’t infinite either, and trying to plan a budget that includes helping support the whole family is deeply depressing — and I already had enough reasons to [be depressed] before.
