YALTA, Crimea - An elderly man gestures at a 500-ruble bill ($7.70) in a woman’s hand as he takes a seat on a bus in Yalta, in Russian-occupied Crimea.
“You’d better put that money away,” he tells her.
“What money?” she scoffs in return. “It may as well be rags.”
Russia’s ruble, now the currency on the Russian-occupied Ukrainian peninsula, plummeted in value since 2014. That happened because of the sharp fall in the price of oil – one of Russia’s main exports – and Western sanctions imposed in response to the Kremlin’s military invasion and illegal annexation of Crimea, coupled with its war against eastern Ukraine.
The ruble – diving from the 30s per dollar to the mid-60s, where it has settled now – is not expected to recover against the dollar anytime soon. And Crimeans are now paying the price, literally.
Even outside the tourist hotspots – where a bottle of soda can cost 70 rubles (Hr 28, or about $1.10) – 500 rubles doesn’t go far.
In today’s Yalta, 500 rubles barely covers the cost of a block of cheese and a kilo of pears.
Life under Russia is a struggle, says Yalta resident Tatiana, who refused to give her last name. She is a young mother walking to the shops with her daughter and her friend.
“When we were under Ukraine, the average wage was Hr 2,000 ($250, at the pre-crisis exchange rate) … We could have lived for a month on Hr 2,000,” she says.
“Now, if we take the minimum wage- 9,500 rubles ($145) – especially if you have a child, it’s very little money.”
But like many other Crimeans, Tatiana doesn’t blame Russia’s autocratic ruler, President Vladimir Putin, for the dramatic fall in living standards on the peninsula since Russia’s armed takeover.
“We love Putin, we’re happy that we’re in Russia now,” she says.
Locals and tourists enjoy the festivities on the Yalta seafront in Crimea on Sept.10. (Natalie Vikhrov)
Prior to its annexation, more than 5.8 million tourists vacationed in Crimea, according to the peninsula’s former Ukrainian Minister of Resorts and Tourism Alexander Liev.
The ministry, which switched hands after the annexation, reported a sharp fall in tourism in 2014, with only 3.8 million visiting the peninsula that year.
But according to the Russian-controlled ministry, the number of tourists grew to 4.59 million in 2015, and with 4.2 million tourists visiting the peninsula from January to August alone this year, it expects to see 6 million holidaymakers in Crimea in 2016.
The peninsula’s tourist season wraps up in autumn, but on this warm September Saturday, both locals and holidaymakers are eager to take advantage of Yalta’s gradually darkening summer evenings.
The city’s seafront is buzzing with music and chatter.
But winter is coming, and locals are already preparing for the seasonal lull in the tourism industry. Dmitri Ilin sells fruit and nuts in front of Yalta’s famous Massandra Winery in the summer to supplement his monthly pension of 10,500 rubles, or about $160.
“Summer feeds the winter,” he says.
“The figs are 200 rubles a kilo, try one.”
A day’s takings run between 1,500 and 2,000 rubles, or $23-30, but Ilin says that allows him and his wife to get by.
“These figs allow us to eat proper meals, to buy the things we want,” he says.
“Everything is expensive here. We pay about 4,000 rubles ($60) a month for household bills- electricity, water, gas. How can we live on just the pension?”
People take a photo with a sculpture representing a heavily armed Russian soldier, erected to celebrate the peninsula’s 2014 annexation from Ukraine, in central Simferopol, on Sept. 10. (AFP)
But he is quick to point out that his financial situation was no better under Ukraine – to which he is vehemently against returning.
“Look at what’s happening there. There’s fighting in the Donbas, the buildings are on fire — did you see on television how they burned (Ukrainian TV station) Inter?” he asks. “I would rather live on bread alone… but I will never return to Ukraine.”
Crimea’s allegiance to Russia and Putin manifests itself across the peninsula, from the street art to souvenirs.
Soviet Union paraphernalia is not a rare item in gift shops and kiosks.
Red t-shirts with gold letters “CCCP” – the Cyrillic abbreviation for the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics – are on sale at a popular strip of souvenir kiosks.
“#Ours” declares a brightly colored mural of Putin’s face pictured next to a fighter jet leaving a contrail of the colors of the Russian flag, on a wall near the Yalta port.
Putin, it seems, is omnipresent.
His face stares out of posters and murals across the peninsula – an ongoing reminder that, for now, Crimea is “theirs” – Russia’s.
“Crimea has always been renowned as an all-union (Soviet) health resort. We will of course be developing this,” read the words of the Russian president on a 30-foot-tall billboard.
But it’s unlikely that Crimea will see an influx of tourists from anywhere other than Russia anytime soon, local realtor Kristina Kolich believes.
Kolich, who offers tourists accommodation on arrival, says the ratio between Ukrainian and Russian tourists has tipped sharply.
While before the annexation most of the holidaymakers coming to Crimea were Ukrainian, today they make up a tiny percentage of the peninsula’s tourists. Most summer visitors to Crimea now are Russians.
And while they may be plentiful, Kolich says the new Russian tourists spend much less than Ukrainians.
“The Russians come here now, and they’re poor,” she says.
Last year a tourism campaign for Crimea touted the peninsula as an inexpensive getaway.
And Kolich says in a way, that’s true.
She says that although the price of food is high, the cost of holiday accommodation has remained low.
“While three, four years ago I made around $150-$200 a day, today making $200 a month is a big deal,” she says.
“I’m renting out a room these days for 1,000 rubles ($15.45) and an apartment for around 1,500 rubles ($23.18) a night.
“Tourism is our livelihood, but it’s dying here.”
