The Russian bombs turned Yuri into a patriot.
Over night.
As if he had died and been reborn.
He says "I'm different now." Not a spark has remained of his loyalty to Russia.
Yuri's backpack used to be adorned with the orange and black striped St. George's Ribbon, a Russian award for military heroic deeds, which is now also worn by opponents of Ukraine.
Yuri threw it away.
The colors of his conviction are now blue-yellow.
Slava Ukraini, Glory to Ukraine, he says today.
Melanie Muehl
Editor in the Feuilleton.
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Juri is in his early sixties, a wiry man with wiry gray hair.
He is sitting in a street café in Odessa, where customers do not drink coffee with almond milk, but eat soup with large pieces of meat.
Before the war, Yuri had nothing to do with Kyiv, Lviv, with all the cities in the west where Ukrainization is being pushed ahead, where monuments are being furiously toppled.
Suddenly they mean a lot to him.
A love discovered late, but all the greater for it.
Missiles in front of your own window
So far the war day is quiet.
Only in the morning did the air raid alarm go off, but no one looked at the sky in shock, people continued to eat, drink and talk as if nothing was wrong.
The acacias are in bloom.
Yuri says: "Compared to Mariupol, Odessa is a paradise island." An island in a sea of tragedies.
The frontline city of Mykolayiv, Odessa's defensive wall, is only 140 kilometers away.
Rockets and bombs wounded the city, but Mykolaiv is still standing.
Many here say that if the city falls, Odessa is doomed.
To succumb to the deceptive calm would be recklessness.
Rockets also fall in Odessa, killing.
The Russians launch their scout drones and fire missiles from Crimea.
Warships cruise the sea.
Recently, Yuri stood on his balcony and smoked a cigarette.
Suddenly a bang.
A missile had exploded, shot down by the anti-aircraft system.
A week ago he went fishing with friends despite authorities warning against venturing onto the beach or sea where mines are floating.
But Yuri's longing for normality was so much greater than his fear of war, because fear wears off too.
As soon as they were on the water, a rocket exploded and turned the sky black.
He shakes his head.
He would never have thought that Putin would attack Ukraine.
His sleep is so sound that he even missed the beginning of the war.
Only on the morning of the 25th, when he turned on the TV, did he find out about the attack by the Russian army.
"I was shocked."
although authorities warn against venturing onto the beach or sea where mines operate.
But Yuri's longing for normality was so much greater than his fear of war, because fear wears off too.
As soon as they were on the water, a rocket exploded and turned the sky black.
He shakes his head.
He would never have thought that Putin would attack Ukraine.
His sleep is so sound that he even missed the beginning of the war.
Only on the morning of the 25th, when he turned on the TV, did he find out about the attack by the Russian army.
"I was shocked."
although authorities warn against venturing onto the beach or sea where mines operate.
But Yuri's longing for normality was so much greater than his fear of war, because fear wears off too.
As soon as they were on the water, a rocket exploded and turned the sky black.
He shakes his head.
He would never have thought that Putin would attack Ukraine.
His sleep is so sound that he even missed the beginning of the war.
Only on the morning of the 25th, when he turned on the TV, did he find out about the attack by the Russian army.
"I was shocked."
He shakes his head.
He would never have thought that Putin would attack Ukraine.
His sleep is so sound that he even missed the beginning of the war.
Only on the morning of the 25th, when he turned on the TV, did he find out about the attack by the Russian army.
"I was shocked."
He shakes his head.
He would never have thought that Putin would attack Ukraine.
His sleep is so sound that he even missed the beginning of the war.
Only on the morning of the 25th, when he turned on the TV, did he find out about the attack by the Russian army.
"I was shocked."
He shrugged his shoulders when he accepted the Russian robbery of Crimea in 2014.
"It was Ukraine's fault," he says.
At that time, a rift ran through Odessa.
During the riots on May 2, 2014, pro-Russian and pro-Ukrainian demonstrators clashed, the city boiled, violence and hatred escalated.
48 people died, many of them burned alive, the perpetrators were never brought to justice.
Yuri does not like to talk about it, he becomes monosyllabic.
He prefers to talk about the new Juri, the patriot.
That Juri, who immediately offered his help to the territorial defense.
With a Kalashnikov over his shoulder, he wanted to defend his city and his country, but those responsible sent him away.
He is too old to be armed.
They kept his phone number anyway, just in case.