In 2013, I joined an American company, which had its headquarters in New York, and hundreds of programmers, testers, and project managers in Simferopol. Stylish office with a huge open space and “cubes”. The company’s clients were Microsoft, CNN, Discovery Channel, etc. I just fell in love with my new job. It seemed to me that there was no other place in the world where such a number of smart, educated, just brilliant Crimeans were gathered per square meter.

Having received a master's degree in international economics at KNEU, for a long time I was looking for a place for the practical application of the acquired knowledge. Later, after the annexation, my native university turned from a decent university into a "retraining center for civil servants": Ukrainian officials were taught how to serve Russia, while the "teachers" were very surprised to find out that in terms of digitalization, Ukraine had overtaken Russia by 10 years.

There were catastrophically few international companies in Crimea, and getting into one of them (especially for graduates without experience) was something out of the realm of fantasy. But in the early 2010s, offices of foreign IT companies began to open en masse throughout Ukraine, including Crimea. Foreigners were attracted by the "price-quality" ratio of our specialists. For Ukrainians, a very modest salary by international standards was still many times more than domestic companies could offer, and it was even pegged to the dollar.

After the “arrival” of Russia in Crimea, the company in which I was lucky enough to work, held on to the last and tried by all means to keep the Simferopol office. Many employees had children and elderly parents, and in general, only a few voluntarily wanted to move and start life anew. But at the end of December 2014, the United States imposed a package of sanctions that prohibited American companies from conducting any activity on the territory of Crimea. In case of violation, the company owners could have been subject to a huge fine, liquidation of the company, confiscation of property, and even imprisonment. Therefore, a survey was conducted among the employees and the company offered the following options for relocating the office: Kyiv, Lviv, Odesa, Krasnodar, and Stavropol. The last two options I dismissed immediately. It was enough for me that Russia came to my house, why would I even consider moving there on purpose? But most of the employees chose Krasnodar. The company had a problem though - only two out of four departments could be relocated there because of the costs involved. That is - 50 people out of 100. Ironically, many of those who voted for Russia turned out to be not really needed by the company. And they began to persuade people like me to move to Krasnodar. The temptation was real: they were promising a higher salary, start-up money for six months to cover rent and stuff, and business trips to New York or even moving there in case it turned out to be completely unbearable for me in Krasnodar. But I refused and decided to go to Kyiv.

This coffee cup in the photo was bought at the Atan gas station when leaving Crimea. One could rest and refresh before crossing the suddenly appeared border between the peninsula and mainland Ukraine, which sometimes could take more than a day to cross.

By agreement with the company, I had to work for another 3 months remotely from Kyiv and transfer my project to a new manager who was to be hired in Krasnodar. But in Krasnodar, among the locals, at that time they could only find a supply manager and a lawyer, but at first, all the specialists were either refugees from the Luhansk and Donetsk regions or Ukrainians that were hiding in Russia from mobilization.

So I had to work longer. At the same time, the company rejected my proposal to open an office in Kyiv: "because of the lack of physical security." But I still couldn’t understand: why would they need an office in Krasnodar, because all of Russia could be under sanctions. And so it happened, but only last year, with the outbreak of a full-scale war. I heard a new office was opened in Lisbon, but people from Krasnodar were not relocated there en masse, locals were hired.

On my first and last visit to Krasnodar in 2015 (I had to meet my boss from New York), my colleague said to me “Damn, look how cool it is here! A hundred times better than our SimferopYl! (“pyl” means dust in Russian) Are you sure you don't want to move here?" A lump came to my throat. I knew that this man went to the referendum and voted for Russia. I could not stand it and said: “What prevented you from moving here earlier? Why was it necessary to support this circus in Crimea in order to eventually move to Krasnodar for your dollar salary?”

I remember very well those people who shouted “Crimea is my homeland! I’m not going to get out of here, even if there are only burnt coals left, I’ll dance on them!” Neither burnt coals under their feet nor stones from the sky were needed for them to make a decision to leave Crimea. The "patriots of Crimea" rushed to their dollar salary.

Krasnodar citizens were looking at my American boss as if she were an alien - it was not so often that people saw there someone who did not speak Russian. After a skirmish with one of my ex-colleagues, I tried my best to control myself and no longer enter into any disputes. It wasn't easy. Especially after another former Crimean who I was on pretty friendly terms with before the annexation when saw me and heard my "Hi!", decided to "joke" and said to me: “I don't talk with Banderas and traitors”. I wonder where is he now? Is he hiding in a trench or most probably from mobilization somewhere in Kazakhstan, Georgia, or Turkey? Or somewhere in Europe with a Ukrainian biometric passport?

Read the previous chapter Bakhchisaray-Berlin Express: Part 1. "Simferopol" Station

Read the next chapter Bakhchisaray-Berlin Express: Part 3. "Kyiv" Station

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