‍

On the eighth day without electricity, residents of Dzhankoy, Armyansk (Ermeni Bazaar), and Krasnoperekopsk (Yanı Qapu) had had enough: they appealed to the occupying authorities via social media, complaining about the local government.

Screenshot of the appeal by residents of northern Crimea to the occupying authorities

The appeal didn’t last even half a day online — it was removed from all platforms. All that remained were ads for companies selling generators and portable power stations, as well as notices about where to get fuel today. According to CEMAAT sources, the gasoline situation is currently best in Aqmescit (Simferopol). Just a 15-minute wait in line and 20 liters of fuel for 220 rubles are yours. On the Yalta–Alushta highway, the lines are also short, but the price is already 350 rubles per liter. In Yalta itself, however, it’s 450 rubles — an absolute world record. Gas doesn’t cost nearly $6 a liter anywhere else; even in Hong Kong, with its world’s most expensive gas stations, the price is half that.

The only advantage of the Crimean South Coast right now is its nearly empty beaches. Tourists from Russia are canceling their reservations en masse, giving Crimeans a rare opportunity to enjoy the summer themselves.

“Professors’ Corner” in Alushta.

Maria from Dzhankoy came to Alushta with her four-year-old son. She says that even though her son was born in Crimea, this is his first time swimming in the sea.

“Usually in the summer there are crowds of people and traffic jams all over Crimea, so we stay home with the air conditioning on. But this year, there’s no air conditioning, no traffic jams, and no crowds. I don’t have a job right now either: our beauty salon was shut down — no electricity, no water. The kindergarten Matvey just started attending this spring has been closed for a month. So we came here with him; the kid is absolutely thrilled — he’s seen the sea before, but only in the spring and fall. And it turns out you can even swim in it. We’re staying at an apart-hotel almost right on the shore. The room costs 5,000 rubles a night. The standard price for a room like this in July is 20,000. Why not take advantage of the opportunity?”

However, most Crimeans aren’t ready to spend their savings on a vacation because no one knows how much longer they’ll have to live on that money. Even those who still have jobs are mentally preparing to lose them. Ismail, the owner of a small grocery store in the Krasnoperekopsk district, was forced to close: his fellow villagers quickly bought up all the sugar and flour at the old prices, and the meat, cottage cheese, and sour cream went bad in the first few days of the blackout, so he has no money for new supplies.

“My brother works at a poultry farm near Simferopol. They were told: ‘Get ready to bury the live birds.’ Because without electricity, it’s impossible to either slaughter them or keep them alive. And ever since we were young, we used to brag to all our friends: ‘Whoever feeds people won’t be left without a job.’ We were fools; we didn’t know how things really work.”

‍

‍

‍