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World News See other World News Articles Title: Return to Russia: Crimeans Tell the Real Story of the 2014 Referendum and Their Lives Since Eva Bartlett traveled to Crimea to see firsthand out how Crimeans have fared since 2014 when their country reunited with Russia, and what the referendum was really like. SIMFEROPOL, CRIMEA — In early August I traveled to Russia for the first time, partly out of interest in seeing some of the vast country with a tourist’s eyes, partly to do some journalism in the region. It also transpired that while in Moscow I was able to interview Maria Zakharova, spokeswoman of the Foreign Ministry. High on my travel list, however, was to visit Crimea and Donetsk People’s Republic (DPR) — the former a part of Russia, the latter an autonomous republic in the east of Ukraine, neither accurately depicted in Western reporting. Or at least that was my sense looking at independent journalists’ reports and those in Russian media. Both regions are native Russian-speaking areas; both opted out of Ukraine in 2014. In the case of Crimea, joining Russia (or actually rejoining, as most I spoke to in Crimea phrased it) was something people overwhelmingly supported. In the case of the Donbass region, the turmoil of Ukraine’s Maidan coup in 2014 set things in motion for the people in the region to declare independence and form the Donetsk and Lugansk People’s Republics. In March 2014, Crimeans held a referendum during which 96 percent of voters chose to join Russia. This has been heavily disputed in Western media, with claims that Crimeans were forced to hold the referendum and claims of Russian troops on the streets “occupying” the peninsula. Because Western media insisted the referendum was a sham held under duress, and because they bandy about the term “pro-Russian separatists” for the people of the DPR, I decided to go and speak to people in these areas to hear what they actually want and feel. From the Russian mainland to the Crimean Peninsula From St. Petersburg, where I spent a few touristy days, I booked a flight to Simferopol, the capital of Crimea, and on August 22 I landed at the attractive new airport. A Russian-American friend, Vlad, flies in from Moscow and together we rent a car and drive to Alushta, a tourist-packed seaside area to the south. As we drive from the airport, Vlad can’t get over the changes in the airport, which had been dank and barely functional when he last visited: When I came here at the end of 2014, Simferopol Airport was very dated: small and stuffy, low ceilings, small windows; the bathrooms didn’t work, there was a constant stench in the air, and many facilities weren’t working — even the baggage carousels didn’t work properly. There were no restaurants or cafes, and no places to rent taxis. Now, it’s a world-class international airport.” We drive south along smooth roads, passing endless vineyards on either side, flanked by low mountains. As Vlad drives, he comments on the condition of the roads, which five years prior were so rough “you had to swerve to dodge the potholes.” Descending to the coast, along cypress tree-lined streets, we arrive in the hub of Alushta, park, and stroll along the seaside. The beach scenes could be anywhere: people sunbathing and swimming, jet-skiing, drinking beer and eating. In the touristy hub before the beach, a carnival sort of feel and smell, a man playing the accordion, children’s rides, upscale restaurants, and fast-food stalls. Alushta beach Crimea Revelers enjoy the pristine Black Sea waters of Alushta. Photo | Eva Bartlett As it happens, we arrive on Russia’s National Flag Day and while walking we come across a small event celebrating this with singers on stage and a crowd that, when we pass by again some hours later, has grown in size and enthusiasm. I remark on how kind and gentle people are here, just as in Russia. Vlad replies: It shouldn’t be surprising — people are people anywhere. But Western media conditions us with stereotypes of Russians as cold and hard, vilifying an entire nation.” The coastal city of Yalta lies further west along the peninsula. The drive there the following day is more beautiful still, the road flanked by mountains to one side, hills cascading down to the Black Sea on the other, endless wineries and, before Yalta itself, the stunning cliff-top castle known as “Swallow’s Nest.” In the evening, we stay in the home of Vlad’s friend Tata, a Russian woman who moved to Crimea in 2012. Since there was so much hype in Western media about a Russian takeover of the peninsula, I ask the burning questions: Were Crimeans forced to take part in the referendum? What was the mood like around that time? Tata replied: I never saw so many people in my life go out to vote, of their own free will. There was a period before the referendum, maybe about two months, during which there were two holidays: International Women’s Day, March 8, and Defender of the Fatherland Day, February 23. Normally, people would go away on vacation during these holidays. But that year, Crimeans didn’t go anywhere; they wanted to be sure they were here during the referendum. We felt the sense of a miracle about to happen. People were anxiously awaiting the referendum. There were military tents in the city, but they were not erected by the military, but by local men. They would stand there every day, and people could come and sign a document calling for a referendum. I went one day and asked if I could add my name but I couldn’t, because I have a Russian passport. Only Crimean citizens could sign it. This was the fair way to do it. At that time, my husband was in America. One day, he was watching CNN and got scared and called me because he saw reports of soldiers in the streets, an ‘invasion’ by Russia. The local navy came from Sevastopol to Yalta and anchored their ships off the coast, made a blockade to ensure no larger Ukrainian or other ships could come and attack. But I never saw tanks, I never saw Russian soldiers. I never saw any of that in the city.” Yalta Crimea Young boys enjoy a local skate park in Sevastopool. Photo | Eva Bartlett I asked Tata about how life had changed after the referendum: When I came here in December 2012, everything was dilapidated and run down. The nice roads you were driving on, they didn’t exist when we were a part of Ukraine. I didn’t understand why Crimea was still a part of Ukraine. It was Russian land ever since the Tsars, the imperial time of Russia. This is where the Russian soul is, and the soul of the Russian navy. After the Soviet Union collapsed, it wasn’t the will of the Crimean people to join Ukraine. People were always Russian here; they always identified as Russian. Ukraine understood this well, and put nothing into Crimea, as punishment. Ukraine didn’t build any hospitals, kindergartens or roads. In the past four years, the Crimean government has built 200 new kindergartens. This is the most obvious example of how things have improved. They also built the new Simferopol airport. I worked in aviation. It took three years to build an airport of this standard in Yekaterinburg, Russia. It took half a year in Simferopol.” International Jazz Festival On my third day in Crimea, we drive eastward anew, driving for hours through the gorgeous countryside, along winding and rolling roads flanked by jagged mountains, past an exceptionally beautiful church (Nicholas Church Lighthouse) overlooking the coast, and down along the sea through more touristy seaside towns and past lines of day tents along the beach. The local FM radio plays a variety of both Russian and Western songs. Finally, after night falls, we drive into the city of Koktebel, where an annual Jazz Festival is starting. Koktebel, Crimea Buskers entertain passersby at the annual Koktebel Jazz Festival. Photo | Eva Bartlett During all these hours of driving, the roads are smooth and well-trafficked, and I don’t see a single Russian military vehicle. The next day, I walk through Koktebel, taking in the local markets brimming with produce, cheeses, and other goods, and every so often come across a streetside stand laden with fresh fruits. In the late afternoon, I walk along the sea, past packed beaches, and meet with a Crimean woman, Yaroslava, who lives in Austria but every summer returns to her beloved Crimea. She is ardently supportive of the decision to have joined Russia and spends much of her time back in Austria trying to educate people on why Crimeans wanted to be a part of Russia. These are reasons I hear throughout my travels in Crimea: We wanted to be able to speak our native language [Russian] and be educated in that language; we wanted to be able to practice our cultural traditions; we have always been a part of Russia and we wanted to return. Yaroslava is busy helping out with the Jazz Festival and wants to use the rest of our short time talking to help me arrange future meetings with people in Crimea. We decided to do a proper interview via Skype in the future when time allows. I drift on to the Jazz Festival, where a talented pianist and band play beach-side to an enthusiastic crowd. Some songs later, I drift back along the beach, passing numerous musicians busking, and a pulsing nightlife that isn’t going to bed any time soon. Construction everywhere On the fifth day, we drive back to Simferopol; Vlad is heading back to Moscow. As we drive, we see road work repeatedly, just as we had when driving from Simferopol south to Alushta: roads being widened, repaved; bridges being repaired or newly built. This is something I observed throughout my travels around Crimea. I remember Tata’s words about “everything being dilapidated” and have a hard time imagining that now with what I see. Vlad departs for Moscow, and I’m on my own now, traveling from the airport via public bus and minibus. At one point I ask a young couple, using Yandex translate, for directions. They get me on the right minibus and, following my route via Yandex maps, I get myself to Simferopol’s rail station and walk the half-hour to my nondescript hotel. I again need to ask locals for directions, as the unmarked hotel is in some parking lot behind a supermarket. I retrace my steps to the train station the next day and repeat the routine to buy a ticket for Sevastopol. The ticket is 119 rubles (just under $2). Over the next two hours on a slow train with wooden seats, I watch as more beautiful scenery and construction slide by. Post Comment Private Reply Ignore Thread
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