If there is one Russian word a springtime visitor to the country should know, it is slyakot, a wonderfully onomatopoeic term that translates, simultaneously, as "slush" and "mud".

Some time in late March/early April, Russia's streets and roads disappear, only to be replaced by vast torrents of thick, brown mud, peppered with the occasional ice drift. It's not just in the countryside, which remains largely undeveloped, but in the very centre of Moscow too. Walking becomes an exercise in dodging mud puddles. Foot traffic slows to a crawl as pedestrians attempt to navigate the city's pavements – they are horribly uneven and potholed at the best of times. As winter's snow turns to rain and gathers in their impossibly large crevasses, they turn into veritable dirt pools. Towering piles of snow, crusted in black soot from months of absorbing car exhaust, line these mud-puddled streets, giving the scene that extra touch of beauty.

This year, winter in Russia, as in Europe, has been particularly long and cruel – or so Russians say. On Monday, a state meteorologist forecast this week's weather thusly: "Snow, snow with rain, and rain". Not great for the mood, but no one moves to Russia for the weather.

Russians have been complaining en masse, convinced that this year's winter is dragging on longer than usual. Last Friday, a lone picketer went so far as to strip down to his tight blue bathing suit, cocktail in hand, to protest in front of Moscow's main meteorology centre with a sign reading: "Summer Better Get Here Soon". The fact of the matter is, they complain every year. And nearly ever year, it snows in April.

The problem, however, isn't the weather. It's the infrastructure – Moscow, a sprawling metropolis that is home to 11.5 million people officially, and up to 17 million unofficially, has almost no drains on its roads, leaving melting snow and mud puddles to stagnate with nowhere to go. The roads, battered yearly by winter, look more like concrete Swiss cheese slices, riddled with holes and uneven paving. It's not for nothing that a favourite Russian saying goes: the country has two eternal problems – roads and idiots.

One should probably add corruption to the list. Vast amounts are being poured into improving Russia's roads – Moscow's budget for 2011 included 101bn roubles (£2.1bn) for road construction, up from 40bn roubles (£845m) the year before. There's not much to show for it so far.

Big projects are regularly a feeding ground for Russia's greedy officials – claims of corruption have already plagued the upcoming Winter Olympics in Sochi and the country's hosting of the World Cup, five years away. Last year, Russia built a major roadway in the far-eastern city of Vladivostok, in time for it to host an annual summit of the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (Apec) forum. The road carried a $1.1bn price-tag. Thanks to shoddy construction work, big chunks of it have already washed away, ironically, during light rains – twice.

The road was part of a $20bn project to renovate the entire city ahead of the Apec summit. According to Russia's interior ministry, at least $2.9bn of that was stolen. Independent experts say the amount was probably even higher. There's a lot of money swimming around Russia – and a lot of it simply isn't reaching the people.

That's what makes it all the more darkly amusing to look upon the grand announcements that regularly come from the Russian government and its supporters. The past seven days alone have seen the country launch unexpected war games in the Black Sea (ordered by Putin via a mysterious 4am letter to the country's defence minister, as detailed by state media); the restoration of the pompously titled Hero of Labour award (a Soviet throwback in the form of a 15g gold medal, as detailed by state media); and, according to Space.com, it has announced, during a symposium in Texas, a new "aggressive" plan to launch a fleet of space robots to explore the moon, bringing back rock samples ahead of a manned mission further down the line. It's all rather hard to take seriously when it's impossible to walk down the street.

Despite the grim picture, some Russians try to make the best of it. In the city of Tver, outside Moscow, there are 4x4 competitions to see who can spew the mud highest. YouTube is filled with videos of Russians attaching skis to the back of cars to make the most of city puddles.

And, in some corners, there's a certain pride in the season. There's even a little used term for it – rasputitsa – a biannual phenomenon that appears in spring because of melting snow and in the autumn because of rain. The word has no English equivalent, but can best be translated as "when roads stop existing". Yes, a season defined by bad roads. It is not, however, always a bad thing – some historians have credited the season with stopping advancing armies from Napoleon to the Nazis. If only residents of Russia didn't have to suffer from it too.