The Crimean peninsula’s turbulent past

“You haven’t seen Ukraine if you haven’t visited Crimea,” many locals told us. Our Russian teacher, Victoria, had also always talked dreamily about this beautiful vacation peninsula. This is precisely why we didn’t follow the road from the city of Kherson right across Ukraine to Russia. That would simply be straight ahead to the east and, according to some, a good route. But because we don’t always want to drive straight towards our destination and because our destination isn’t really our destination, but the daily experience and above all being on the road, it wasn’t difficult for us to decide to take another detour of around 500 kilometers.

We are having dinner in the nice hotel in the coastal town of Feodosiia. A young Ukrainian couple from the city of Kiev sits opposite us and talks about their engagement trip to the peninsula: “You haven’t seen Crimea if you don’t visit Yalta,” they enthuse. “Then we’ll just go to Yalta,” says Tanja. “Over the mountains?” “Oh no, not over the mountains.” “The best way is by boat,” I suggest enthusiastically. “Well, you’ll have trouble with the ferry. As far as we know, the service has been closed since last year. It’s best to leave your bikes here and take a short bus trip. It only takes five hours and is uncomplicated,” recommends Irene. “Okay, then we’ll take the bus,” Tanja and I reply at the same time.

The minibus leaves the town of Feodosiia at seven o’clock in the morning. I look sleepily out of the window. Steppes and gently rolling hills fly by outside at an unusual speed. It is raining lightly and strong winds are causing the trees to bend. This is no challenge for such a pile of metal on wheels. Happy to outwit the headwind in this way, I sit thoughtfully in my comfortable seat. From here you can see nothing of the Black Sea, which almost completely surrounds the autonomous republic and peninsula of Crimea. Only around 2.5 million people live on the peninsula, which stretches from west to east (320 kilometers) and from north to south (175 kilometers). (25,993 square kilometers). After 65 kilometers, the bus makes a short stop in the town of Bilohirsk. Three men get on, grinning with satisfaction, and make themselves comfortable in the empty seats behind us. As soon as they have settled into their seats, they unpack two bottles of vodka and a plump, fat sausage. The strong smell immediately reaches the roots of my hair. As our vehicle starts to move again, the three of them laugh as they toast to the first sto. Served with finger-thick pieces of sausage. I have no idea whether they belong to the 65 percent of Russians or the 25 percent of Ukrainians. In any case, they are not one of the few Tartars who still make up the minority here, along with a few Bulgarians and Greeks.

I read that no Russians used to live here. In ancient times, the descendants of the Crimeans called the Crimea Taurian Chersones. Which is derived from their name, the Tauriner. The Greeks of Miletus founded many towns and villages between the 7th and 5th centuries BC, which were then united to form the Bosporan Empire in 438 BC. “What are you thinking?” Tanja interrupts my thoughts. “Oh about the different peoples who have replaced each other here in the course of history, mostly through wars. Like almost everywhere on earth, it has been an eternal coming and going. When you look out of the window at the landscape, it’s hard to believe that this piece of earth has been fought over for ages.” “Yes, it all looks so peaceful.” “It is, if the inhabitants aren’t being overrun by a foreign power,” I reply, sinking back into my thoughts. As early as 114 BC, the kingdom accepted suzerainty from Mithridates VI Eupator, King of Pontus, to protect it from the Scythian tribes. (Landscape in northwestern Asia Minor on the southern coasts of the Pontos Euxinos (today’s Black Sea). After the defeat of Mithridates VI against the Romans, Crimea remained under the rule of Rome for almost three centuries. “Na sdarowie!”, my excursion into history is loudly interrupted by the drinking men behind us. For almost 20 minutes, they have been downing one vodka after another. They laugh and giggle more and more often. They have almost eaten the mega sausage by now. Shyly and as inconspicuously as possible, I turn around as the backrest of my seat shakes violently. One of the drinking buddies has just leaned on it to get up for a moment. Of course, I leave him to it without comment and look out of the window again. The sun has now driven away the rain. The landscape looks friendly, even lovely. We are just before the city of Simferopol, from where we will cross the Crimean Mountains to the coast from north to south.

Admiring the mountain landscape, I let my mind wander back to the past. In 250 AD, after the reign of Rome, the Goths conquered the peninsula. They were the first of a series of successive invasions by the Huns, Khazars, Byzantine Greeks, Kipchaks and Genoese, who took control of the region over a period of almost 1000 years. Then, in 1475, the peninsula was overrun by the Turks, who ruled it together with the Tartar princes and held it in their possession until 1777. “Chöörrck!” belches one of the now boundlessly drunk people behind us. “Chöörrck!”, replies his buddy, giggling in the same dialect. “Maybe they’re descended from the wild Tartars after all,” I whisper quietly over the constant unpleasant interruptions. “No, they must be Russians,” I judge, thinking of how they triumphed over the Turks and Tartars and incorporated Crimea into the Russian Empire in 1783. In 1854, the Crimean War began with Britain, France, the Ottoman Empire and the Kingdom of Sardinia confronting Russia to curtail Russia’s power in the Black Sea and reverse Russian expansion into Ottoman territory in the Balkans. Two years later, the military conflict ended with Russia’s defeat. However, the conflict-ridden Crimea did not come to rest and played a significant role in the civil war that raged between 1917 and 1920 following the Russian Revolution. “Hi, hi, hi, ha, ha, ha,” it laughs behind us. “Chöörrck! Chöörrck,” it belches in chorus. We reach the city of Simferopol and get a 30-minute break to stretch our legs. Then we continue over the mountains to the south coast. The three drinking buddies are still sitting upright. The second bottle of vodka has just been emptied to the last drop.

The driver sets off on a risky overtaking maneuver, but brakes at the last second and hides his pile of metal with valuable cargo behind the stinking exhaust fumes of a slowly crawling truck. “Phew, that was close,” I breathe out in relief. “Look, there’s another mosque. Are the inhabitants here Muslims?” Tanja asks. “As far as I have read, there is still a Tatar minority here. The Tatars are Muslims. They ruled here for many centuries.” “That sounds exciting.” “Yes, very exciting. Especially when you consider that the Tartars have something to do with Genghis Khan.” “What do you mean by that?” “From what I know, the word Tatars is a collective term for the peoples of Turkic descent who invaded parts of Asia and Europe in the 13th century, led by the Mongols. The Tartars most likely came from east-central Asia or central Siberia. After Genghis Khan’s conquests at the beginning of the 13th century, the Mongol and Turkic peoples gradually intermingled and were collectively referred to as Tatars by Europeans.” “And where have they all gone now?” “Good question. As late as 1921, Crimea was established as an autonomous republic for the Crimean Tatars within the Soviet Republic. German troops then invaded Crimea in 1941. After the fall of the port city of Sevastopol in July 1942, the Germans occupied the republic completely and held it until the spring of 1944. After the war, Crimea was downgraded from an autonomous republic to an administrative territory in 1945, allegedly due to widespread collaboration of the Crimean Tatars with the enemy. The Crimean Tatars were then officially abolished as a nation by Soviet leader Yossif Vissarionovich Stalin and forcibly deported en masse to Central Asia. In 1954, Crimea became a region of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic.” “Phew, what a story,” says Tanja, exhaling loudly. “Yes, a very turbulent and bloody history and, above all, it is not over because shortly after the dissolution of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) in 1991, tensions arose between Russia and Ukraine over the ownership of Crimea. Officially, Crimea belonged to Ukraine following a handover in 1954. Russia now contested this. Then, in 1994, presidential elections were held for Crimea for the first time in history. Five of the six presidential candidates publicly spoke out in favor of Crimea’s reunification with Russia. At that time, things were very tense here and, in my view, the two countries were on the brink of conflict, as neither wanted to give in. It was not until June 1997 that Russia and Ukraine concluded a friendship treaty in which both countries accepted the existing borders. This means that Moscow also recognizes that Crimea and the Black Sea port of Sevastopol belong to Ukraine.” “After what you’ve just told me, it’s easy to imagine that the history of this peninsula is far from over,” Tanja muses quietly.

It has become quiet behind us. The backrest shaker is flattened from the vodka and is stretched out flat across both benches. His two buddies have also closed their eyes and leaned their heads against the vibrating window. Only occasionally does it burp quietly forwards. The other passengers seem to be used to such passengers because no one has taken the slightest notice of them so far.

It is 12:00 noon when we safely reach the bus station in Yalta. We ask the driver in which direction the promenade is and set off. There are hotels everywhere. The large advertising posters of the luxury houses are also full of promise and attract the many tourists. The town stretches across the surrounding hills and is indeed friendly and inviting. Thousands of people swarm up and down the sidewalks like ants. Stalls and stores offer everything a Russian or Ukrainian vacationer could possibly want. After half an hour, we see the blue of the sea peeking through a few houses and hotels. We set off with determination and find a simple restaurant right by the water. Sweaty, we sink into the plastic chairs and order something to eat. “Well, the view here isn’t exactly promising,” I say as we look at the rusty freighters lying like beached whales on the dry deck directly below the gas station. After lunch, we continue our walk. Pretty old houses that are more reminiscent of a Mediterranean region line the narrow street here. Locals soon offer rooms to spend the night at every turn. 40- US$ is the cheapest we hear. Thank goodness the high season is over and we find a wonderful apartment with a direct sea view. Satisfied with ourselves and the journey so far, we sit down on the small balcony. We enjoy the sunset, the sound of the waves and the view over the Black Sea.

We look forward to your comments!