Olya & Danya
The third in a new series of first person interviews with Ukrainians now living in Austria. For privacy reasons, names are often changed, as is this case in this interview, per Olya's request.
Olya, 41, and her son Danya, 16, now live in Graz, Austria. But unlike other Ukrainians many of whom chose Austria as their destination following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the family were in Vienna when the war broke out. They had flown in the night before. Olya had found a cheap ticket to Vienna for the weekend, and having travelled to many European cities herself, she decided it was time to show her son Vienna and spend a weekend taking him to the many museums Austria’s capital is home to. Mother and son have not been back to Kyiv since.
Olya was working in Kyiv for Ukrainian television. She was working on the Ukrainian versions of such reality shows as The Bachelor, X-Factor, and Master Chef. She was in charge of selling product placement contracts to sponsors. This was complex, exciting work, and each project was a new challenge. Olya loved her job, and was good at it. She had just purchased her own apartment in Kyiv (“Danya was used to living on the 19th floor”), and therefore didn’t have much liquid savings left, and she had invested her savings into buying the apartment. She had emptied her bank account before the war started, a feeling that something might happen, and had hidden the remaining cash at home, thinking that if Russia were to do something, there was a risk that banks and ATMs might not work for a period of time. She had also told her mother, 64, in Mykolaiv “if something happens and we cannot communicate, I am waiting for you in Kyiv”. The idea that Kyiv would be attacked first was unthinkable to Olya. Kharkiv, the south, yes. But not Kyiv.
For their trip to Vienna, Olya had only taken €500 in cash. She could not imagine they would have needed more for a long weekend. Her logic was the more you take, the more you might spend, so she limited what she travelled with. She loved travelling, and over the years, had tried to visit many European cities for long weekends, searching for cheap flights and visiting new places.
They arrived in Vienna late on the evening of February 23, checked into their hotel room, went for a walk, and went to bed. At 4am on February 24, Olya was awoken by a call from her ex-husband, Danya’s father. “It’s started,” he said. From that moment Olya went into fight of flight mode, trying to plan her next steps, knowing she had only booked the hotel room until Sunday evening.
Her first move, after telling Danya what was happening in Ukraine, was to email the hotel and ask if they might stay a few days longer, after it became clear that no flights would be taking off or landing at Kyiv’s Boryspil international airport anytime soon. The hotel wrote her back that unfortunately their own business had suffered during covid, and they could not help.
Next, Olya opened up a Facebook group for Ukrainians in Austria, and managed to find someone she knew, a woman she had worked with years ago at one of her first jobs in a marketing department. The women had been 22 and 23 at the time. Olya reached out to her, having learned that her former work colleague had married an Austrian and was now living her. The friend’s Ukrainian family was in Melitopol (one of the first cities to be occupied). Olya’s mother and relatives were in Mykolaiv, while her ex-husband’s family was all in Kharkiv. Olya chatted with her old friend, who explained she was living in Graz, and Olya and Danya could come and stay with them for a while.
Olya ran all sorts of scenarios through her head. Maybe Bratislava would be cheaper? Maybe the €500 would last longer there? At the time, Olya still believed she might be able to go home to Kyiv in a matter of weeks. Olya asked in a local mommy group for advice, and a woman helped her to find the FlixBus for Graz. Olya insisted on paying for her own tickets for her and Danya. She was not yet ready to accept help from strangers in that way. As they got on the bus, the local mom pulled Danya aside and put a bill in his hands. When they got on the bus, Danya realised it was €100. To this day he has not spent it. He hold onto it, for good luck.
In Graz, the local family emptied a bedroom for Olya and Danya. They stayed around two months with them, as Olya began to manoeuvre her way through the local bureaucracy and look for housing. Every time she stood in line — at the bank, at the social supermarket, she talked about the fact that she and her son were looking for an apartment. Through this small talk, she managed to find an Austrian family who had an empty two-room apartment. They offered to let Olya and Danya live in it for as long as necessary. It was spartan but a lifesaver as their hosts were expecting their own relatives soon, and as Olya explains, you cannot expect someone to keep hosting a friend when their family needs a place to stay.
The new apartment did not have a washing machine, and Olya recalls packing two bags on wheels, one with darks, one with lights, dragging them to a friend’s apartment, going to German class, then running back to switch the load, then packing up the bags and hanging up the wet clothes at home. She was able to find some household items and furnishings through humanitarian groups in Graz. Initially, the Steiermark government handed out Spar vouchers, €20 per person every two weeks, and this helped the family buy food. Olya writes me she lost 10 kilos during the first four months of the war. She was constantly on video calls with relatives, worried about them, and tells me she used to take screen shots of those calls, fearful it might be the last time she would see their faces.
While they were still living with the host family, they suggested enrolling Danya in a local school. A local middle school agreed to accept him as a pupil. Danya had been learning some German in Kyiv, as his parents had hoped that one day he might study in Germany for university. From the middle school, Olya received a phone call in mid-April that given Danya’s age (then nearly 15), he would be better off switching to a new school for older children, and at that point he transferred to what loosely translates as a pre-professional school, with a specialisation in “Congress (meaning expos, conferences) management”. This school created an integration class for twenty Ukrainian teens aged 14-16. They had four hours of German in the mornings, and then joined the Austrians in the afternoons. In the summer of 2022, there was a German exam, and Danya passed A2 German.
Danya expressed a strong interest in transferring to a high school in Graz specialised in film-making and multimedia art. He applied, showing his grades from Kyiv, and was accepted. The application process was not simple, but with the help of Olya and their Austrian hosts, Danya was lucky to become a first-year student and got the opportunity to study what he is passionate about. Olya added that Danya is a student (online) at one of Kyiv’ leading math schools and is managing to study at two high schools simultaneously (no easy feat — there are many Ukrainian kids who find this too stressful and end up choosing one or the other program).
Danya just completed his first year in this specialised high school, which offers a five year program which ends with Matura. Olya says Danya did well during his first year, and is passionate that he wants to pursue filmmaking as a career. He attended a local film festival and feels like he could make films like those too one day. I ask how Danya is doing otherwise, is he not homesick? He is, Olya explains. It is hard to go from a huge metropolis like Kyiv to a smaller city like Graz. Graz is as big as our one neighbourhood in Kyiv, Olya adds.
Olya is happy. She walks everywhere to save money on bus fare. She is already enrolled in B1 German, having passed A1 and A2 with good marks. At first, free classes were offered via the university, and then ÖIF made courses available to Ukrainians. Olya would love to work in her profession, or in any professional role, but this is proving challenging, despite Olya’s fluent English and German which seems to be progressing about as fast as one could expect. Olya wrote a letter to a large media group in the local area, expressing a desire just to meet for a chat and learn more about how their work is structured in Austria, explaining what she did in Ukraine. She received several rejection letters from HR. But I wasn’t applying for a job, Olya explains, I simply wanted to connect over coffee and learn more about how things are done in Austria. I suggest LinkedIn, explaining she may have to target specific individuals. I also gently add that the smaller the city, the harder it is to find a good job without personal connections.
Olya goes to all the open houses. The airport had an open doors about jobs. She went. The post office had a presentation. She went to that, too. She is open to new ideas and trying her best to meet as many new people as possible, telling them about her interests, experience, and job search. She has signed up with Caritas for a “Sprachpartner”, a volunteer who would offer at least two hours per week of spoken German practice. That is necessary to pass the B1 exam.
We talk about those who could not manage in Austria, who went home to Ukraine. “There is no quiet place in Ukraine,” Olya says, “they can hit anytime, anywhere.” There was a family, she tells me, a mother and daughter who had been in Poland, retured to Kryvyi Rih, and were killed in the missile strike in late July on the high-rise apartment building in Zelensky’s hometown. “It’s Russian roulette.” Olya’s own mother stayed in Mykolaiv, and she says things have improved there “gotten quieter” since Kherson was liberated.
We talk about finances. How to stretch the small monthly payments which Austria pays out to Ukrainians with temporary protection here. Olya shops at social supermarkets and goes to humanitarian aid points. When she and Danya came to Austria, they had only clothes for 3 days with them. She has asked AMS for help in finding a job, but the advice was, given her experience, to finish her German courses and conduct her job search on her own. The message sounded like they really only focus on entry-level opportunities. There is another local center, Zebra, which is helping Olya to write her CV in German. She will need to have her diplomas translated…
I ask about the TV business in Ukraine. Olya says it died after the start of the war. She says she is prepared to try something new in Austria. She likes that Austrians are not judgemental about the kind of work a person does. She stresses she has only met kind, caring people in Graz, many of whom dedicate their own time to volunteer work (animals, shelters). She describes them as people who want to help because they believe it to be the right thing to do, and do not expect a “thank you” for it. Olya says she wishes Ukraine would be more like this. I add perhaps it already is, thinking of all the young people I met last spring in the train station who were going back to Ukraine to volunteer having helped older relatives reach Europe safely.
Olya talks to me about the nature in Austria. How beautiful it is. When train travel was still free for Ukrainians, she and Danya hopped on a train from Graz to Salzburg to celebrate Olya’s 40th birthday. It was a beautiful, long day, four hours in each direction. Olya says it was staring out that train window that she understood the beauty of this country. When it was still possible, she and Danya tried to see as much of Austria as they could.
It was Austria’s natural beauty which inspired Olya to keep going with learning German, so that she could better communicate with the people here. They were invited to Schladming (ski mountains) by their Austrian hosts, and Olya says she was crying from the beauty of the alps. Even a few days ago, they stumbled upon a village festival. They watched, curious, but at the same time sad. It is no time for celebrations in Ukraine, yet. On the other hand, Olya explains, why should people in other countries have to stop celebrating simply because there is suffering somewhere else? People should live their lives, she says.
I ask about plans for the future, and Olya tells me that is one of the hardest things. Not being able to plan for the future. Their blue cards are valid until March 2024. Danya is 16 and of course he misses Kyiv badly, but is in enrolled in a great school and doing well. Olya remembers in the early days of the war when Danya’s friends were texting him goodbye messages, “you were a good friend”, just in case. She shudders in horror just remembering what that was like. Some of his friends were then preparing Molotov cocktails, others were near Hostomel.
Olya tells me again how grateful she is to Austria, to the people who have helped them along the way. She understands that maybe some local people have had negative experiences with Ukrainians. She wants to stress that Ukraine is a big country, and not to judge based on a few bad apples. There are so many wonderful Ukrainian kids now in Austria: two brothers, pianists, so talented they are currently touring Europe with their concerts. A ballroom dancing champion. A Moto-sport driver. So many talented kids and teens who are now being given a chance at something resembling a normal childhood.
We talk about the future, if Europe will let those Ukrainians stay who have found jobs and are working here, spending money in the local economies. I don’t know, I say, explaining it is also a burden on taxpayers. She sends me a slide about the number of new businesses opened in Poland, and how many are now Ukrainian-owned. I explain it is a bit different here in Austria: the barriers to entry are higher, many came here for complicated medical care, which is very expensive.
I assure Olya that with her English, her improving German, and her really interesting professional background in product placement and marketing, and most importantly, her open, positive attitude, she should be able to find a good job. Sometimes it just takes a little luck. Maybe the right person will read this. You never know.
As I scroll through the photos Olya sent me one last time, I find this.
“On Easter I really wanted to bake paski! I didn’t have the proper paper forms, so I baked them in cans. And the tulips, they were a treat to myself, I went crazy and spent money on them, not on what we needed, but on what I really wanted. At home in Kyiv I always had flowers on my table.”
Some additional photos Olya sent me: