The Language… 3. Central Crimea...

Every summer in the 1970s and 1980s I took a bus trip to my grandma’s house located in the Belogorsk province of Crimea. 

The little towns throughout the central Crimea looked almost identical; lined up duplexes with a piece of land attached to it where the family shared only one wall of the building and property line with another family of  migrants. 

Many of those people spoke different languages. 

These temporary accommodations were provided only to those who worked on collective farms. 

The temporary houses became permanent homes for many of them… 

Half of a building with two rooms, a small kitchen, covered porch and no bathroom or running water became a forever home, and still is, for thousands of Crimean’s. 

My aunt was milking cows by hand all her life … 

I will never forget the taste of the crust of the white bread carefully cut for me and a small glass jar of warm milk right from under the cow …

Of course, I had to work for it a little…) by helping my aunt to feed the cows and clean up the stoop.  

To be continued… 

VGM