The tide is high this Friday morning in Trouville-sur-Mer, an emblematic seaside resort on the Côte Fleurie, in Calvados. The gulls fly over the expanse of sand that has just been raked, on which beach attendants are setting up the first deckchairs and parasols, which will quickly find takers. In Normandy and elsewhere in France, the summer of 2022 is already shaping up to be that of recovery for the tourism sector. Despite the fires, inflation… and a crying lack of manpower in the hotel and restaurant industry.
Cyril Leseur, the manager of the only bar-restaurant in Trouville located in the middle of the beach, knows something about it: “Just this morning, I have three employees out of twenty who do not give sound or image. “The sixty-year-old has a lot of flying hours in the business, so he does not mince his words: “During the Covid-19 crisis, the “whatever it takes” made many people prefer to stay home, or change jobs. It’s true that we have a difficult job…” A job that did not, however, put off the three young women who discreetly walk around the terrace of the Galatea. “It’s a real pleasure to work with them”, enthuses Cyril Leseur, who praises their “punctuality and their seriousness”.
Trendy Kyiv bars on the run
They are Dasha Vysotska, 31, a cheerful brunette; Ieugeniia Panchenko, 34, whose eyes were the color of the sea that morning; Dasha Shatalova, 29, tall blonde who always stands back from her friends. The first two are from Brovary, an administrative region east of kyiv, the Ukrainian capital. The third comes from Odessa, a port city in the south of the country. Before February 24 and the invasion of their country by Russia, Dasha the brunette and Ieugeniia worked as chef and sous-chef at Eter, a trendy restaurant in kyiv. Dasha, the shy one, was a bartender at another establishment in town.
Faced with the language barrier, it is difficult to account precisely for what they and their families have suffered: the first bombardments, the fear, the hours volunteering to prepare meals for soldiers and hospitals, the first deaths in their entourage. “I had panic attacks, slips Ieugeniia. It was not good for my mental health, I had to leave. »
” Think about something else “
At the beginning of March, Dasha the brunette, Ieugeniia and some of their relatives fled the country. “Everything happened very quickly, they remember. In an hour, we had packed our bags. Their journey by car takes them through Poland, Germany and then France. First stop in Paris. Dasha the blonde, who left behind her boyfriend, mobilized in the army, joined them there in mid-March, after an incredible train journey. The chances of mutual aid, of which they and other thousands of displaced Ukrainians (more than 61,600 people between February 24 and August 4, according to the interior ministry) were able to benefit, they arrived in Trouville-sur-Mer at the beginning of April. What to do, then, apart from fretting over their families in danger? Work.
A CV posted on an online site in May, and Dasha the brunette was immediately contacted by Cyril Leseur. “He’s a boss with a big heart, he didn’t hesitate to hire all three of us,” insists the young woman, who may not be aware that their “professionalism” and their need to “think about something else” would take a thorn out of the way for many hotel and restaurant professionals.
“Real workers”
President of this last branch within the Umih, Hubert Jan recognizes that, “faced with the lack of manpower, which has been estimated at between 20% and 30%, it was either to close the establishments, or to reduce reception capacities. Everyone tried to find solutions. If he cannot move forward, “for lack of observatories on local catering”, of figures regarding the number of Ukrainians and Ukrainians who will have made up for the deficit of French seasonal workers this season, he praises their “rigour” . And not just in one industry. “In my town [Fouesnant, dans le Finistère], thanks to word of mouth or associations, some Ukrainian women have been hired as housekeepers. They are real workers. »
At Galatea, indeed, it rocks. “Despite the language barrier, they learn quickly,” greets Emilien Bossard, 24, one of the colleagues of our three Ukrainian friends. Behind the bar, discreet Dasha has memorized the list of drinks to be served. Lemonade, espresso, Spritz… The young woman never repeats the order and complies. In the kitchen, Dasha the brunette cleans up quantities of lettuce, while Eugeniia cleans a mound of sardines. Headphones on, she says she listens to a podcast that explains how to cook trout. “We try to have a normal life, to have fun, discovering the region, she explains. But I can’t help but feel guilty: I feel selfish, because I’m here, safe. “The family, the friends, our language… We miss everything,” slips Dasha without her usual big smile.
At the end of their contract, in mid-September, the three friends will try to return to Ukraine, to find those who leave such a big void in the whirlwind of the small Norman seaside resort.