The scorching midday heat and the Black Sea breeze seem to overshadow the lingering sense of danger in Odesa. The usually vibrant seaport city, frequently a target of Russia’s war, is nearly empty, but local beaches are reminiscent of times when the sea showed no signs of a looming threat.
“Hot corn, salty shrimp!” a woman yells. “Hot corn, salty shrimp!” It’s a scene that was common in Ukrainian summers before the full-scale war. The woman carries two coolers. Wearing a cap and sunglasses, overwhelmed by the heat, she stops to rest at the bottom of the pier. Tired and a bit skeptical, she mentions it’s the first time they are selling food on the beach since the full-scale invasion.
After Russia launched a full-scale invasion in February 2022, the shoreline was closed due to defense needs and the threat of mines. The problems only grew worse after the destruction of the Kakhovka dam in June 2023. This year, the local government finally reopened some 20 beaches for civilian use.
“We Only Have the Rivers Left”
Foreign visitors are now a rare sight, but the city beach is dotted with Odesa locals and tourists from other parts of Ukraine. “We came here for three days because we have nowhere to [swim] in Mykolayiv Oblast, only in the river,” says Anna.
In the shade of an umbrella, the 46-year-old explains that she comes from the southern city of Mykolaiv. Watching her husband and daughter diving with a mask from the shore, the high-spirited woman, with a tone of acceptance, adds that the seaside in her home region is dangerous due to the proximity to Russian occupation forces and shelling.
“Earlier, we would go to Koblevo, but the beaches there are closed now. We also vacationed at the Kinburn Split, but, you know, it’s occupied,” she says. A hint of nostalgia’s in her voice. “Now, we have only rivers left to swim in, and we wanted to go to the seaside.”
It’s the first time the family has come to Odesa to swim in the Black Sea since Russia launched its full-scale war. Russian forces have attempted to capture Odesa by landing on the seashore. Although they failed, they continue to target the city with drones and missiles, from the sea where Ukrainians are now trying to recreate some semblance of pre-war normalcy.
Asked if she’s afraid to stay here, Anna says, “After Mykolayiv, nothing scares us. It’s okay.” There, Russian forces partially occupied the area, and it still endures routine attacks. Coming here to the sound of air raid sirens is nothing new for Anna. “We came to the beach this morning at 8 a.m.,” she goes on. “It was nice and quiet. We want to try the beach with pebbles later.”
“No Place Left Untouched”
Children play in the waves along the shore. Older kids take turns jumping off the pier, occasionally joined by adults who come to enjoy the dive. Among them is Ihor, a 57-year-old from Zaporizhia, about 40 km away from the frontline that borders Russian-occupied territories just across the Dnipro River. As his colleague deals with paperwork in Odesa, Ihor takes advantage of his work assignment by the sea, which has been restricted for two seasons.
“It’s a must to swim here,” he says, letting out a relaxed laugh. With his belongings to the side, Ihor is ready for a swim — his first in almost three years since the full-scale invasion began. “Nothing has changed on the beach. There are as many people as there were back then,” he adds, except for the number of tables on the terrace. And the news.
With Russia’s relentless massive attacks on Ukraine and advances on the eastern front, Ukraine’s recent surprise incursion into the Russian Kursk Oblast has been a morale boost for Ukrainians like Ihor. He believes Ukrainian forces have a plan. “What plan? Nobody knows that. Even Russians haven’t expected Ukrainians to enter there.”
Surrounded by children standing on the tip of the pier, Ihor, speaking in his native Russian, expresses no sympathy for Russians affected by the reverberations of the war. “When they (Russians) come into Ukraine…,” he rephrases, “in our Orikhiv, 60 km from Zaporizhia, there is no place left untouched,” Ihor adds with a note of outrage and grievance.
Air Raid Sirens
Ihor recalls a recent Russian attack on a village near his hometown. The strike killed a child and injured three others in a cafe for children. Nearby, teenage girls squeal with joy as they pick up seashells. Ihor checks his belongings, then dives into the sea.
As the sun sets, vacationers leave the beach, slowing near the Odesa Dolphinarium. Some snap photos of palm trees and the Black Sea despite the sign warning against taking photos of the coastal horizon.
A young couple, Adam and Olha, find a more intimate spot to watch the sunset — on a sloped park strip between the shoreline and the popular Health Trail. As an air raid alert goes off, they sit still.
“Even if we ended up here during the bombing, you literally have nowhere to hide,” Adam, a third-year piano student from Odesa, says. His girlfriend and college mate, Olha, agrees with a smile. Missiles launched by Russia from occupied Crimea or the Black Sea often reach Odesa in a few minutes, leaving barely any time for civilians to take shelter.
People have somehow adapted to this reality, the couple says, and for Odesa, this year is no different from others. “Except there are many more vacationers,” Olha adds.
The way Adam sees it, Ukraine’s operation in Kursk has contributed to people’s defiant mood. “It is reassuring that society has emerged from a state of depression,” he says. “Donations have significantly increased. The main hope from this operation is not so much territorial gains as the return of prisoners.”
They briefly left Ukraine, but Russian attacks or not, the couple has no more plans to leave their hometown. “We like it here,” Adam explains, and an air raid alert shatters the deceptive calm of the sunset.
