成人小说亚洲一区二区三区,亚洲国产精品一区二区三区,国产精品成人精品久久久,久久综合一区二区三区,精品无码av一区二区,国产一级a毛一级a看免费视频,欧洲uv免费在线区一二区,亚洲国产欧美中日韩成人综合视频,国产熟女一区二区三区五月婷小说,亚洲一区波多野结衣在线

Elena, a 31-year-old content freelancer, had rented out her Moscow apartment on Airbnb enough times since 2018 to earn her the “super host” badge. She was earning the equivalent of $1,000 a month. “My listing was booked up most of the time,” she says. “I only had three to four days vacant during a month.” But overnight, that income stream disappeared. On March 3, the home-renting site suspended the platform for Russian and Belarusian users after Russia invaded Ukraine.

Elena is now worried that Google will restrict Russians’ access to YouTube, her other financial lifeline. TikTok has blocked its services in Russia, while Russian authorities have banned Facebook and restricted Twitter. Elena, like others in this story, declined to share her last name.

Elena and her husband fled to Turkey last week to escape the deteriorating economic and security situation in Russia. She worries about her elderly parents, who stayed behind and have health issues. Before she left, Elena withdrew all the cash that she could from ATMs, so she has “money for some time.” Russians who’ve left the country will be cut off from credit cards once Visa and Mastercard disable Russia-issued cards outside the country on March 10.

“I need to figure out what to do next,” she says.

Since Russian forces invaded Ukraine in February, Western nations have hit Russia with a barrage of sanctions to rebuke Moscow for the unprovoked assault on its neighbor that has so far killed at least 351 Ukrainian civilians and forced at least 2 million Ukrainians to flee the country. The U.S., alongside European nations like Germany and France, have cut Russia off from international payment system SWIFT, choked off Russia’s access to its $630 billion trove of foreign exchange reserves, and seized the assets of Russian oligarchs. On March 8, the U.S. and U.K. announced a ban on Russian oil and gas imports.

A long list of Western companies have now severed business ties with Russia. Apple stopped shipping products into the country. Nike, Hermès, and Ikea have shut down nationwide. Hollywood studios from Warner Bros. to Sony Pictures have halted film releases. Platforms like Netflix and Spotify no longer serve Russian users.

The punitive actions are intended to isolate Russia from the global economy, but they’ve also upended the lives of average Russians in the process, tanking the value of the Russian ruble and the country’s stock market, cutting Russians off from social media platforms, and denying them access to everyday goods and services, like imported food and mobile payment systems.

The disruptions started as minor inconveniences. On Feb. 28, commuters in Moscow, for instance, realized Apple Pay and Google Pay no longer worked in the city’s metro, forcing them to fumble for cash. But the consequences of the sanctions and Western companies’ exits from Russia—once in full force—will jeopardize the livelihoods of many inside Russia. Some Russians are fleeing the country to escape the looming economic hardship, while others are rethinking their future inside the country.

A repeat of history

After the West’s sanctions hit, the Russian ruble cratered—it’s now trading at 129 to the U.S. dollar, its value more than halved since the start of the year—and authorities shut down the domestic stock exchange indefinitely. After the rout, trader Alexander Butmanov toasted the “death of Russia’s stock market” on live TV.

Ordinary Russians share in Butmanov’s pessimism.

Sasha, a 30-year-old IT engineer, says he’s so far lost 10% of his savings as a result of the stock market collapse. He invested in some Russian stocks, which plunged by 90%. His savings, the majority of which are in rubles, have “depreciated significantly,” he says. He wants to leave Russia but worries that many countries will deny entry to Russian citizens.

Investment consultant Arthur, 31, says he lost the equivalent of $10,000 owing to the stock market slump. “It’s like money doesn’t mean anything anymore. It all disappeared at once,” he notes. Arthur doesn’t expect to leave Russia, because his family is there, but he’s stalled plans to open a coffee shop. “Everything is so volatile right now. I’m waiting and lying low at the moment,” he says.

Vlad, who works as a technician in Moscow, says the value of his monthly salary has almost halved from $400 to around $250 owing to the ruble’s drop. Vlad and his partner have “almost no savings,” he says, but they’ve put aside emergency funds for a one-way ticket out of Russia. Given the precarious economic situation, Vlad has paused spending on high-ticket items, like the dental treatment and gender transition therapy he’d planned to undergo this year. He doesn’t want to risk starting hormonal treatment that’s dependent on foreign medicine, since sanctions could diminish Russia’s supply of imported drugs.

Some foreign medicines have become scarce, and people are now using their savings to stockpile imported drugs for depression and chronic illnesses while they can, says Maria, a 23-year-old PR professional in Moscow. Maria doesn’t want to leave Russia, but “every day, we're getting more hopeless about ever getting our normal lives back,” she says. Maria and her family hope to relocate to any English-speaking country that will let Russians in. Still, they face challenges like transferring their assets abroad. Online transfers don’t work, and Russia on March 1 barred citizens from taking more than $10,000 in foreign currency out of the country.

Investment bank J.P. Morgan warns that Russia is headed for a 1998-like collapse when the country’s GDP shrank nearly 6% amid its debt crisis. The bank predicts a 7% GDP contraction for Russia this year.

The Kremlin has ordered retailers to cap price increases on basic food items like vegetable oil, flour, pasta, and sugar at 5% and to limit the amount customers can buy. Maxim, a 33-year-old quality assurance engineer and former journalist with a young daughter in Moscow, says that basic food items remain stocked in supermarkets. But he’s no longer buying imported food items, like bell peppers, which are becoming costlier or disappearing.

Amal Abdullaev, a half-Russian, half-Uzbek project manager at Russia’s Tinkoff Bank, estimates that the cost of electronics have increased 70% to 80% and car prices have shot up 50% since the invasion began. Grocery prices have increased around 10% to 15%, he says.

Purchases themselves are harder to carry out, even within Russia. Russian customers of sanctioned banks, like Russia’s VTB, have reported problems with using Google Pay and Apple Pay, says Abdullaev, 24. Visa and Mastercard say they will no longer process overseas transactions with Russia-issued cards, while foreign-issued cards won’t work inside Russia. Russian banks are now looking at China’s UnionPay as an alternative.

Abdullaev enjoys his work and doesn’t want to leave Moscow, his company, or his work team, but he’s considering moving to Almaty, Kazakhstan or Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. China would have been his first choice if it weren’t still closed to foreigners owing to COVID-19, he says. Two of Abdullaev’s friends who had jobs at top Russian tech firms Yandex and Ozon have left for the West and Central Asia, respectively.

Abdullaev will review his options at the end of March and see “how severe the [economic] effects are on everyday life,” he says. A bigger outbreak of war is also a concern, “but God save us from that,” he says.

Tough choices

Other Russians are reconsidering their future plans.

Other Russians hope to leave but need to save more money or apply for a passport. Maxim plans to leave in a few years: “As soon as I have the opportunity, I’ll take my family and go somewhere far away, like Canada or New Zealand.”

Most land border crossings out of Russia are closed. The train service from St. Petersburg to Helsinki is the last remaining link connecting Russia to the EU, and trains have been packed with Russians leaving their country. Russia still has direct flights to countries like Turkey, the UAE, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. But even airlines from “friendly” nations are starting to halt flights to and from Russia. Flight prices have surged; a direct flight from Moscow to Istanbul on a Russian airline, like Aeroflot, now costs around $750 to $1,000, compared with $150 to 250 during normal times, says Elena.

Russians have lived through similar events, like the economic collapse of the 1990s, and “know how to survive” in times of hardship, says Michael A. Reynolds, director of Russian, East European, and Eurasian studies at Princeton University.