This is the Operation Theatre (OT) at a public hospital in Pune. There is another bed behind this one that looks exactly the same, and two operations are always occurring simultaneously. The thing about public healthcare in India vs the US is the fact that it’s ALL FREE. Every operation, vaccination, etc. is 100% paid for by the government or given by altruistic physicians who donate their time and equipment to provide India’s gargantuan population with the care it needs. Unfortunately, this means that there is a constant shortage of government provided equipment and wo/manpower. The fact that most of the population is nutritionally deficient in at least one significant way also puts a huge strain on medical resources. That’s why the private sector of healthcare is so much better than public at this point. Unfortunately, public care is the only option for most, and a lot of it runs on the altruism of the private sector. This particular room is serviced by about three OBGYNs at one time, from private hospitals all over Pune. Most will dedicate a day out of the week to perform operations, and the teams are very skilled and work well together, which is why they would dare to perform two operations at one time in one place. I can’t say whether this is the case everywhere. In three hours we saw two c-sections, a hysterectomy, an IUD correction, and four separate laproscopic procedures for either endometriosis and/or tubeligation. This was all before lunch, and all in one room. It was extremely impressive, and the physicians and nurses very obviously care very deeply about the patients they serve. People often turn up their noses at the cleanliness of the facilities, but what they don’t realize is that is is literally impossible to meet the standards of US medical facility cleanliness without wasting the already very limited resources that the facilities are provided, and when forced to choose between spending money on prettier beds vs providing emergency c-sections for poor mothers, they’re obviously going to choose the latter.
My first week was spent with the lovely Caroline, observing Dr. Kothari in his pediatric clinic in Pune. He sees around 80 kiddos every day. That’s an absolutely staggering number, and the poor man barely ever got to sit down unless it was to examine a child while using his personal desk as an exam table. He obviously loves his job and we spent every tea time having fascinating conversations about the differences in politics and culture between the US and India (as well as laughing about the kiddos and chatting about everyday life things of course)! Dr. Kothari is in purple, and the man next to him is a homeopath who was also observing. He was very sweet and never actually drank tea with us because he was in the midst of a fast. Poor guy.
I had the privilege of watching this sweet momma give birth (a natural birth) to this equally sweet bb girl!!! This was done at Dr. Dugad’s hospital. She had no epidural, but still had an episiotomy (cutting of the vaginal opening to widen it to avoid excessive tearing) with anesthesia that basically looked to me like Novocain for the vagina. She didn’t scream once, despite the fact that she was very obviously in a hell of a lot of pain. Good lord. She stayed the rest of the week to recover, and we (meaning me, Caroline and Jelina at the time) got to see her little girl get treated for jaundice, eat celebratory candies with the whole family, and see the daddy being over the moon about his wee little girl.
This folder is given to all of Dr. Kothari’s little patients’ moms and dads.
Thanks to this act, it is “now easier to get married in India than it is to purchase an ultrasound machine,” according to Dr. Dugad, who owns his own private OB/GYN clinic in Pune. There is a long, arduous registration process of the machines that are allowed to be purchased for use in genetic labs, OBGYN offices, etc. that needs to be renewed withtransfer of ownership of the machine, after every five years, and with initial purchase. Clinics are constantly under scrutiny for illegal disclosure of fetal sex, and violation of the act will result in 5 years jail time, the revoking of any medical license, and a large financial penalty. Even in cases of high-risk pregnancy (e.g. mother over 35 years of age, family history of genetic disease, etc) where chromosome panels, amniocentesis, or other genetic tests must be done, the physicians are sworn to not disclose the sex of the child. Before every initial sonograph, the mother must sign an agreement stating that she does not wish to know the sex, and that the physician has stated clearly the requirements of the act. The physician also must sign a similar agreement. By prohibiting sex determination, the hope is that faetocide and infanticide will be reduced, and it has been successful thus far. However, there is still a long way to go, and programs such as Catch Them Young (this program in particular is done through an NGO) are aimed at educating young ladies and men of the basics of the anatomy and physiology of their own bodies, of conception/pregnancy, and the importance of continuing education as far as possible.
This act, as sad as it may be, is extremely necessary in India. When asked, Dr. Dugad expressed the opinion that female faetocide will continue to be a problem even 50 years in the future. Because of the fact that male babies are so much more socially desirable than females, if the sex of the baby is determined to be female in utero, then the chances of an elective abortion is very high. This is not because the mothers are mean-spirited or inherently hate women; it’s because of the familial and social pressure to produce males as opposed to females. For example, it is very common in rural India for mother-in-laws to kick young mothers out of the home for giving their husbands girls instead of boys.This is due to a severe lack of education about the process of conception, fertility, sex determination, and even basic bodily functions such as menstruation (which is still viewed as a punishment on the sinful female in many rural areas). If a female bodied baby is produced, then this is seen as a shortcoming of the mother, despite the simple empirical fact that a mother is incapable of providing a Y chromosome, and the father has no say in which chromosomes get passed on. Uneducated young women end up in crippling poverty because they are encouraged to drop out of school when they begin to menstruate, get married young, have dangerous pregnancies, have baby girls, disappoint their families, and end up on the streets. It’s either this or try everything under the sun to have baby boys, including undergoing dangerous and expensive treatments by “doctors” that will “guarantee” a boy after conception, or by finding out the sex by ultrasound and aborting the girls. This issue is extremely prevalent, which is why this act was necessary in the first place.
Pathology! The safety in terms of sharps disposal and body fluid cleanup would likely upset anybody used to US standards of sterilization. However, remember that many of these clinics barely have enough resources to keep a phone working much less to properly disinfect everything that needs disinfecting, as ALL public care is free.
These are several photos of the pathology lab in the rural hospital we visit once a week. We’re being shown a malaria specimen under the microscope, which was very cool. This is a primary care clinic, meaning they only give the most basic care. Most primary care clinics are barely equipped to even provide enough iron supplements to pregnant mothers Secondary and tertiary care is provided in cities, but as of now there is a very VERY limited emergency transport system, and the odds of living in a rural village serviced by any kind of emergency vehicle is extremely slim. Most people in India that don’t live in the cities are farmers who have to walk several miles just to get to the primary care clinic, that may not even have a working telephone. A medical official is supposed to be on call at every clinic 24/7, but most medical providers do not want to be working in these isolated areas, and often are not present at the clinic or available at all hours. Many are not even equipped to provide emergency delivery care.
This is also the pathology lab. The only tests that are able to be performed in this clinic are rapid result tests. If a patient is suspected of having something that would require further testing in a better equipped facility, then the test needs to be ordered, which is quite expensive for them to do. That’s why these more complicated tests are almost never used for preventive measures. For example, we can get biopsies done almost anywhere at anytime for any reason in the US, but the only way that a patient could get one done in this clinic is if they are already showing signs/symptoms, or pay out of pocket. All of the tests offered are detailed on the walls to assist the pathologist who may or may not be particularly qualified, depending on the clinic. Even some of the rapid result tests are in short supply, and are not used for every patient. For example, they don’t ever have many HIV/AIDS tests on hand, so again, only those patients who are already sick may use them.
What fine, spicy ladies I get to see every day.
This is the group at the rural clinic last week! The medical official (not pictured) is in the process of becoming an OBGYN, and he was very nice. After visiting a patient who wasvery obviously on his death bed, I asked about hospice/palliative care in India. He had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, since such things are considered unaffordable luxeries anywhere but the heart of the richest cities, in private hospitals. Even then, most people are cared for by their families until death, and end-of-life procedures are very simple. In the United States it is very expensive to die. Many surgeries and procedures are done to draw out the life of an ailing individual, whereas in India that simply isn’t an option and therefore hasn’t become the norm, even among more affluent communities. Comfort is the priority in the case of a chronic illness.
One of Dr. Kothari’s happier patients!!! ❤
I arrived in Germany for a semester-long study abroad on February 23, 2017. Eleven days later, my grandmother, Nana, passed away.
My experience abroad was heavily impacted by Nana’s death at the beginning of my stay. Being five thousand miles away from the rest of my family for the five months following her funeral was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and though I’d like to separate the two experiences – studying abroad and losing a grandparent – the two will forever be linked.
About six weeks before I left for Germany, Nana was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. Every few days, her situation got worse. They discovered fluid in her lungs which needed to be drained. Eventually, they found several tumors in her lungs. My mom flew out to visit her, then came home, then flew back. My dad, sister, brother-in-law, and I joined her in Pennsylvania for a few days, eleven days before I flew to Germany. We said our goodbyes to Nana then.
“I’ll see you again, you know,” Nana said to me as I was hugging her for the last time, hours before our flight back to Montana. In the moment, I felt confused; up until then, she had been very cogent and understanding of her situation. I thought I was seeing her mind start to slip, until she spoke again.
“In heaven, I mean. I won’t see you here anymore. But we’ll see each other again.”
This was just like Nana. She was frank to the end. She was not losing her mind; no, she was giving her family the hope and strength we needed to get through this time, which she probably considered more difficult for all of us than it was for her, just like she always took on other people’s problems throughout her life. I’m sure she said the same words to all thirteen of her other grandchildren, all four of her kids and their spouses, all her friends, everyone who was lucky enough to say goodbye to her before the end, because she knew that those were the words we all needed to hear.
When I left for Germany, I knew I would never see Nana again – at least not “here,” as she put it. And when I left, I thought it was a certainty that I would miss her funeral. It seemed completely out of the realm of possibility to fly back to the states immediately after arriving in Germany. We knew she only had a few weeks left, at best. Leaving my family, uprooting my life and moving to a foreign country during this time was, for lack of a better word, complicated. I left with the understanding that I would be dealing with this, all of this, alone. And I tried to be okay with that.
But the morning I woke up to the text from my dad telling me that Nana had died, I knew that I couldn’t be alone for this. I talked to my mom on the phone that morning, just hours after she and my aunt had sat together in the room while Nana breathed her last breaths, and I knew I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be five thousand miles away from my family, in a place where I hardly knew anyone. I felt hopeless, lost, and completely alone.
My mom said on the phone that Dad was already looking for tickets for me to fly home for the funeral, and that when they were all awake the next morning (afternoon for me in Germany), we would figure out a plan. She said it was my choice whether or not to go home for the funeral. I had orientation programs all day, and my mom told me to tell someone in my program what I was going through.
The six hours following that phone call were incredibly difficult. My mom went to bed right after, and no one else in the states was awake for the first six hours of my morning. I followed my mom’s advice and told my new friend Brittany.
It’s a pretty twisted way to test a new friendship, to find out if this new friendship is really real, telling your new friend that your grandmother passed away that morning. But Brittany passed the test with flying colors, and I will forever be grateful to her for being the shoulder I needed to cry on that morning. She and Paul, the other friend I decided to confide in later that day, will be permanently etched in my memory for their support on one of the most difficult days of my life.
When my family in the states finally started waking up, the cloud that had been over my head for the day lifted a bit. I talked to my dad in between orientation programs and he bought my ticket home. It turned out to be cheaper to fly from Frankfurt to Philadelphia than it was for him to fly from Montana. It was a done deal. I would be going to the funeral. I didn’t know how I felt about it, but I knew that I was going.
Nothing else I did in my five-month study abroad came close to being as important as the funeral ended up being for me. My family mourns very well. Nana’s funeral was truly a celebration of her life, and we felt her presence there the whole time – for good reason: she planned the funeral herself. The service was perfect. Being there with my family was so, so good. And without having gone home for the funeral, I cannot say whether my study abroad experience would have been a positive one.
That being said, the next five months were not painless. Just as anyone who has lost a loved one knows, the grief doesn’t just evaporate after the funeral. And being so far away from my family during this time did not help speed up the grieving process for me. Now, two months after coming home from Germany, I mean it when I say I had a great time abroad – I learned a lot, experienced many new things, and met people from all over the world. But at the same time, those five months abroad were also the five months following Nana’s death, and these two experiences of the same time period are, in many ways, inseparable.
If you ever find yourself in a situation like mine, and I sincerely hope you don’t, here is my advice: do not pretend that this won’t be a tough time, but do not wallow. Be honest with yourself, and be honest with the people whose opinions matter to you. It will help you, as it helped me, to move on with your life without forgetting what has happened. I will admit, there were times when I felt guilty for enjoying my time abroad when I felt like I should have been mourning my grandmother’s passing. And there were also times when I felt guilty for feeling sad, because I felt like I should be embracing my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study abroad. In the end, the key was finding the compromise between the two, allowing time to think about Nana, but also letting myself go out with friends and have a good time.
I learned a lot about myself in the five months after Nana’s funeral, which also happened to be the five months I spent studying abroad. I learned that I could not ignore the fact that I was grieving, but I also couldn’t ignore the fact that I was living in a foreign country for a limited time. I learned that grief wears many faces. I learned to appreciate the true friendships in my life, both the new ones and old ones – the friends who helped me enjoy my time abroad and the friends who helped me through a very tough time.
You can’t control the things that happen back home when you go abroad. But you do have control over how you react to these things. Seven months later, I am still reminding myself of this.
Thank you, Nana, for this lesson and so many more.
Marble walls, boasting opulent showcases intercalated with ornate caryatids, rise majestically towards staggering heights. With grace and confidence, an iron-framed, translucent quilt of intricate stain glass panels dome over the walkways of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. At the foot of the ceiling, four beautiful frescos depict the continents of America, Africa, Asia, and Europe. Below, the walkway unites the mosaic emblems of Italian regions in the shape of a cross, illustrating the significant accomplishments of King Vittorio Emanuele II. The immense sense of grandeur is uncatchable by any camera, preserved for only the eye of the beholder.
The peaceful chirps of birds hidden above, echo throughout the mall. Occasional clanks followed by soft rumbles circle around the air, as a Russian trio from Moscow dances on rollerblades. A perfect opportunity has surfaced. Soon I am also, shakily, feeling the breeze on my face. The air is still, and there is an unexpected void of the badgering swindlers that hand out “free” bracelets. The bustling swarms of traveling want-to-be-merchants are unusually absent from the windows, where they desperately stare for seemingly forever at Prada leather purses. It is near sunrise. The true splendor of the Galleria opens itself willingly, a private, romantic hidden treasure.
The crest of Turin depicts a bull, rearing up on its hind legs. His testicles are a smooth hole, carved from millions of spinning feet. According to tradition, a person who spins three times, counterclockwise, will be fortuned with good luck. Unfortunately, I spun many times in the opposite direction. As this is likely a common mistake, I cross my fingers for the smiling visitors who leave every day with a false sense of hope. Speaking of misfortune, the designer of this Galleria, Giuseppe Mengoni, fell to his death from a scaffold at the worksite on December 30, 1877, the eve of the inauguration. In memory of the great architect, a plaque is displayed on the left column of the arch of triumph entrance to the Galleria.
The name of this Gallery is significant in the history of Italy. Italians are prideful of the Risorgimento, the Italian unification movement of the 1850s and early 60s. The heroes of this time are forever honored as the names of several buildings and streets in Milan, and throughout Italy. During this time, copious estates were still practicing feudalism under lords, segmenting Italy. Then, a King of Sardinia, Vittorio Emanuele II, became a powerful instigator of a new unification movement. A friend of Emanuele II, Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian general, was ripe for the opportunity to conquer Italy for the King. Garibaldi gathered an army of a thousand volunteers called I Mille. With ease, this army fueled rebellion and support in each estate across Italy. Quickly, the estates fell and feudalism was replaced by a form of capitalism under the new king of Italy, Vittorio Emanuel II. Today, Milan contains a street called Corso Garibaldi, and a metro station called Port Garibaldi.
For an example of Garibaldi’s swift invasion, the upheaval of Sicily is elegantly portrayed in the famous book and movie, The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. The story follows Prince of Salina, a noble and scholarly aristocrat, as he attempts to preserve his family and class. There is also an opera adaption of The Leopard called La Cavalleria Rusticana by Pietro Mascagni.
Before the annexation, the House of Bourbon, a Spanish royal family, ruled Sicily. With the rebellion, their lands were divided and bought as investments by wealthy men. During the shaky transition of government powers, the mafia was born.
King Vittorio Emanuele II ruled an entire country of Italy. His services and power were stretched to the max. In Sicily, there were little boundaries between politics, economics, and crime. Many people in Sicily despised the control from northern powers. They wanted the law to be conducted in the Sicilian way. In addition, people needed to buy protection for their land properties from a specialist in violence, a Mafioso. Organized families of crime began to spread across Italy, and infiltrate business markets and politics. Today, the mafia is still large and influential. In Milan, a mafia family controls the majority of the fresh produce. The clues that hint at the unstable past and present of Italy are hidden across Milan and even branded across one of the oldest malls in the world, the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II.
The story of the Leonardo de Vinci’s, The Last Supper, begins at a simple, yet elegant Santa Maria delle Grazie, nestled within the winding streets of Milan. This UNESCO site was erected as a Dominican convent in 1469. The priests of the Dominican Order preferred to live in communities outside the church. So, they uniquely constructed Santa Maria delle Grazie within the constricting center of Milan, despite the lack of space for lavish gardens. Originally, its architecture was modest and simple.
Soon after its completion, the Duke of Milan, Ludovico Maria Sforza, choose the Santa Maria delle Grazie to be the Sforza family burial site. He ordered the cloister and apse to be rebuilt with a suitable splendor. Today, you can distinctly see both the modest and the extravagant architecture. The rebuilding of the church was bothersome for the priests, so the Duke commissioned Leonardo de Vinci to paint The Last Supper as a gift. It was painted in the refectory of the church. This was a place where only the priests entered to eat meals. In this way, the painting was a private tribute for the priests.
Leonardo de Vinci choose to paint The Last Supper in a fashion uncommon to wall murals. Fresco Style was the typical method, which required wetting and preparing small pieces of the wall to paint over. The sections dried quickly and permanently. It was not possible to paint layers or redo the sections. De Vinci wished to meditate for lengthy periods while painting. He also wanted the ability to slightly change the picture during the process. Therefore, he chose to paint on the dry, unprepared wall. After the four leisurely years he took to complete The Last Supper, he realized his mistake. He had painted on the outside wall of the church’s kitchen. The humidity and heat from the kitchen caused the paint to flake and deteriorate. At the same time, the Duke of Milan died, ending his family lineage. Without his patron, Leonardo could not restore his painting. In addition, the Santa Maria delle Grazie could never be used as the Sforza family burial site.
The priests struggled to preserve their painting. They allowed artists to copy the painting. However, the copies were renditions and didn’t capture the message Leonardo had depicted. They also allowed artists to darken the fading colors of the original painting. However, over time the facial expressions in the picture slightly changed, again altering its message. For example, Leonardo depicted The Supper as the moment before Jesus states that someone will betray him. In the original painting, Jesus’s mouth is opened just slightly as he is about to speak. Over time, artists began to extensively open Jesus’s mouth, which takes away the special moment that Leonard had depicted. Additionally, many of the copies of The Last Supper have Judas, in the front of the table, as he is the traitor. However, De Vinci painted the moment before Judas was realized as the betrayer; therefore he painted Judas behind the table with the other apostles.
The survivability of The Last Supper was further threatened during WWII when a bomb landed in the courtyard of the Santa Maria delle Grazie. It landed nearly 80 feet from The Last Supper. Miraculously, the mural survived. Today, the museum is built with the only surviving pieces of the wall still around the Last Supper.
In the late 1970s, a major restoration of The Last Supper brought out the original painting. Using new technology, scientists removed the layers of paint that had covered Leonardo De Vinci’s work. This process took over 20 years to complete. Today, you can see the original message that he had depicted.
The Last Supper portrays the reaction of each apostle at the moment that Jesus begins to open his mouth to say that one of them will betray him. It is a scene before Judas is ever determined as the traitor. The apostles nearest Jesus have a stronger relationship with Jesus, and they knowingly wait in anticipation. The apostles farthest from Jesus are in discussion because they are uncertain about what is happening. Judas is appears withdrawn and startled by the revelation of his plan.
Only John and Judas have different tones of skin compared to the other bodies. John is white symbolizing his good soul, and Judas is dark skinned with a dark soul. Peter is between John and Judas as a representation of church. John is facing Judas, which symbolizes that people face their darker souls in the church. The message suggests that even though people are not perfect, sin happens at the moment of choice. Judas had the chance to not betray until the exact moment Jesus uncovered his plans.
The table of the Last Supper is actually larger than the surrounding, painted room. This illusion pops the table into a clear view while cramming the apostles on the sides into the intense moment. In addition, the entire painting is huge with the dimensions of 15 by 29 feet. On Jesus’s cheek, a small hole can be seen where Leonardo De Vinci used a nail as the vanishing point of the picture. He used a rope to draw the room with perfect geometry.
Visiting The Last Supper requires reservation months in advance, for only a 15-minute viewing allowance. The feeling of anticipation, followed by utter amazement exemplifies the story of The Last Supper.
I love Milan. The city is the future and the past. It is a fast-paced metropolis of creativity, and the people are fueled with bubbly ambition and energy. Milan is the business capital of Italy, and Milanese lifestyle has evolved to support working hard and playing harder. At every corner, cafes and vending machines dispense endless shots of espresso, each for a single euro. (America needs more espresso vending machines.) Every evening from eight till midnight, people of all ages flock to the bars for aperitivo, a Milanese culture of free buffets with the purchase of drinks. In the mornings, the city begins the hasty business day around nine. Although they smoke and drink excessively, they also maintain a proper, assembled ambiance. Looking good is compulsory. For travelers, Milan is welcoming and relaxing, while expressing a sense of home. The city has many hidden secrets with only select tourist destinations. Thus, Milan feels authentic and free from lingering crowds. The center of Milan houses the Castel Sforza, the Duomo and the Galleria Vottorio Emanuele II, so many tourists congregate here. Luckily, the main streets in this area are majestically wide, and the tourists are comfortably spread out.
Uniquely, the center of Milan was reconstructed after the city was conquered by Napoleon. Napoleon influenced the architecture to reflect Paris. Even today, Milan looks more similar to old downtown Paris than the rest of Italy. Just outside the Castel Sforza, there is a twin of Paris’s Arch of Triumph. It’s called the Arch of Peace. The two arches are on both sides of a road that connects Paris and Milan. Even today, Milan wants to be more like Paris. Currently, Milan’s economy is strong, while the economy of the rest of Italy is crumbling. In recent news, Milan wants to gain a specific government for the city in order to speed up politics in favor of thriving entrepreneur businesses. Many people believe that the Italian government is slow and harming the economy. Similarly, Paris also has their own independent government power.
Milan has a rich dynamic of ancient history and thriving entrepreneurial nuances. The old part of Milan is an immense downtown center. Massive marble buildings stand firmly within the ancient walls of the old city. Here, the luxury brand shops for the high-class business citizens fill the streets. Churches dating back as far as the 3rd century are small treasures hidden within the windings streets. Every church is still used religiously. For example, one church, shown below, is called the Santa Maria Presso San Satiro. This church was built in the 15th century. When it didn’t have enough space to expand, an illusion was painted to make the church feel bigger. Furthermore, the Civic Archaeological Museum displays the Roman artifacts, on which the modern city is built. Near the fantastic Hostel Ostello Bello, the streets have open spots that offer sneak peeks at the Roman ruins beneath.
The ancient ways are alluring to the people in Milan. On the last Sunday of each month, the Navigli district, the ancient canals that flow through Milan, hosts a massive antique market. Continuous tents weave along the canals, displaying Roman artifacts, watches, African trinkets, Renaissance art, statues, silverware, clothing, jewelry, and furniture. The market is a real treat, as it is a glimpse into the culture of Milan.
Leonardo Da Vinci is a historical favorite of Milan. In fact, Da Vinci lived in Milan for over 20 years of his life. He worked for the Duke of Milan to paint the impressive Last Supper, and he lived with the Duke in the Castle Sforza. Within the Castle, Leonardo lined his room with wood and painted beautiful tree canopies across the ceilings and walls. This room is preserved under the name Sala Delle Asse, and available to the public within the colossal fortress. The Castle Sforza also sports another famous painting by Da Vince, the Madonna Lia. While painting the Madonna Lia, Leonardo was experimenting with using light sources and sloping shadows, mixed with physical movements, to reveal the soul and new perspectives of space. It is one of the best paintings to depict his artistic philosophies.
Leonardo Da Vinci was not only an artist. Recently the Museo Nazionale Scienza e Tecnologia analyzed Leonardo’s invention journals. Experts used his ideas to create models and presented the masterpieces in an exhibit. One model was an improved printing press. Another was a mechanical loom. He also experimented with war boats and flying machines.
Milan has a strong sense of entrepreneurship and growth. The push towards the future, developed during the Renaissance era, has continued throughout the centuries. Northern Italians are prideful of the Risorgimento, an Italian unification movement of the 1850s and early 60s. This was a time when Italy finally eradicated their feudal system and fought for a new Italy under one King, Vittorio Emanuel II. The heroes of this time are honored as the statues across Milan, and their names are presented on popular streets and buildings. The passionate determination for the future persists because of the remembrance of these heroes.
Then in the early 20th century, artistic and social movements influenced the period of Futurism in Milan. The change emphasized speed, technology, industry, and fascism. The modern paintings from this time are displayed in the Museo del Novecento. The paintings hint towards Picasso style but with more fluidity and movement rather than cubism. In 1913, Umberto Boccioni sculpted the Unique Forms of Continuity in Space. This famous statue is featured on the 20 cent euro coin. The speed of this figure is still reflected, today, in the people of Milan as they walk determinedly across the city.
In addition, many buildings still remain from the fascist politics of the early 20th century. The Milano Centrale train station and the Milan Stock Exchange are in fascist style buildings. The architecture is elegant and full of replicas of Roman statues and designs. Recently, an artist placed as sculpture in front of the Milan Stock Exchange that presents a strong message. It shows a hand with all the fingers cut off but the middle one, an old fascist symbol. It is presented as a remembrance of the fascism that used to reign in Milan. However it also a modern message. This statue suggests an attitude towards the crumbling banks of Italy.
Today, Milan is the forefront of fashion and business in Italy. The constant, daily evolution of fashion in Milan has shaped a culture of nuance in every part of the city. Situated outside the Milano Centrale train station, there is a massive sculpture of the Apple logo with a bandage across the bitten piece. It symbolizes that nature and technology must find a way to coexist. This theme is scattered across the city. Everyone in the city uses the metro and walks. However, small electric cars (far cooler than Tesla) scurry through the streets. The modern part of Milan, Porta Nuovo, contains some of the most impressive architecture in the world. This area is lively and creative. The towering Unicredit Tower marks the hub of modern business in Milan. Amongst wavy architecture, fountains and modern sculptures, the impressive forerunners of millennial entrepreneurial businesses are presented such as Tesla, Moleskin, and Swatch. Peeking out from behind the Unicredit Tower is a unique skyscraper called the Bosco Verticale, or the Vertical Forest. This is a new residential building that uses an elaborate watering system to create an appealing green living area filled with trees and plants. The entire area of Porta Nuovo is under construction. The large land proposes hope for a green, livable modern business center of Milan. The new opportunities and potential are enticing.
The Teatro Alla Scala offers a lavish and stunning experience into the thriving tradition of opera. I bought pricey tickets to be in a plush compartment near the stage. It was one of the best seats in the opera house. I sat in awe at my surroundings. The compartment fits four people and was decorated with intricate gold embroidery that surrounded velvety cushions. The view into the audience was stunning. The compartments rose up five stories high. The wealthy regulars popped their heads over the balconies to chat with their friends. Antique gold lights radiated the expanse with a warm glow. The entire room was massive! I spent longer staring at the marvels of the room than I did admiring the Duomo. The Teatro Alla Scala is a must see destination. Unfortunately, camera use is strictly forbidden so I didn’t take my own pictures.
I attended the performance of La Bohème, one of the most famous operas in the world. It was emotional and intense. I sat above the orchestra, and the music complimented the story with hints of excitement followed by mourning. The opera opened with a humorous scene of starving artists freezing in a simple apartment. Dramatically, the artists burned their operas and writings to keep warm. I found the set to be amazing! It was extremely detailed from scuffs on the walls to textured windows. It was so realistic that I felt like I was peering into a portal, and witnessing France in the 1840s.
The next scene was intense. The curtains drew back to reveal a stage that was two stories high and filled with hundreds of actors. The bottom story was a busy riverside festival near a restaurant, while wealthier citizens gossiped on the upper story. Horses and donkeys pulling carriages and carts of goods traversed across the stage. The music was uplifting, as the two main couples each fell in love during the festivals.
Then the following scenes got dark and depressing. The relationships between the two couples struggled. In the climactic end, the woman, Mimì, confesses her final love to Rodolfo as she dies from a short life plagued with poverty. In her dying moments, Mimí asks Rodolfo if he thinks she is still beautiful. Rodolfo romantically explains, “Beautiful as the dawn.” Then tragically, Mimí replies, “You’ve mistaken the image: you should have said, beautiful as the sunset.”
The average fashion in Milan is not as wild as Vogue Magazine portrays. However, the people of Milan are confident and prideful. Thus, the people of Milan dress smartly. There is a strong culture of eating small, healthy, fresh meals and hastily walking long distances, while exorbitantly drinking and smoking. This culture has uniquely paid off in an interesting way. The people of Milan are beautiful, sexy, charismatic and grungy. In fact, they walk a fine line. Due to healthy eating and exercise, the people are thin, with strong attributes of either femininity or masculinity. The women’s hairstyles are typically long, straight and black. During the summer, the younger women wear high waist short shorts with exposing blouses and elaborate laced sandals with super thick soles to make them appear taller and thinner. Also, rompers are very popular. The older women wear longer, colorful sundresses, or tight sheath dresses. I did notice that the fashion shops are influencing elaborate woman shoes. For example, heals are covered in fluffy fur. I didn’t notice anyone wearing these shoes. However, I did see a couple woman with shoes that had huge red bows on top. The bows were so enormous that the woman had to be careful to not trip.
The men have a stricter dress code. It is imperative to wear pants, preferably slacks, to enter many restaurants, churches, or special events. Shorts are not accepted. Even collared shirts are suggested. The men wear elaborated leather shoes, slacks, and half buttoned up dress shirts, exemplifying the machismo culture of Italians. Businessmen are dressed in full suits. The older men have longer, curly hair that is pushed back. The young men sport a more modern look of undercuts, with the sides trimmed short and the top long. The top can be slicked back or let loose, wildly.
Men and women both typically have many tattoos and greasy looking hair. Furthermore, sunglasses, bracelets, and large flashy watches are popular for everyone. Every type of sunglasses is worn such as round, wayfarer, butterfly or even octagon. The signs of tobacco and alcohol leave hardened faces and wrinkles. The women cover the wrinkles with flawless, but heavy makeup, while the men rock the look as it supports their masculine toughness. This is a unique contrast from how elegantly they dress and walk.
The food is surprisingly cheap. Unless of course, you are eating from a balcony in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. This is contributed by the prevalent aperitivo tradition and the lack of mass tourism. A traveler could eat well with only spending 20 euros a day. Aperitivio is typically 8 euros which includes a drink and a buffet for dinner between 8 pm and midnight. Breakfast seems to be a small muffin with a couple shots of espresso before work. Italians typically eat smaller meals when they are hungry. Panini, gelato, and pizza cafes are everywhere. Each store takes fresh fruit for the new gelato each day. The pizza joints make their own tomato sauce by using a slow process with the best Italian tomatoes. This makes the pizza excellent. Shopping at market stores is the cheapest option. Groceries are significantly cheaper in Milan than in Montana. Notably, olive oil is insanely cheap. As I am from Montana, Milan food lights up my taste buds. The fresh produce in Milan is mouth-watering. Even the cucumbers are juicy!
The cafes are my favorite. If you want to sit down, coffee is more expensive. Usually, Italians stand at the counter to drink their coffee and talk. It’s easy to meet people. Unlike Montana, liquor licenses in Italy are easy to attain. This makes a wide available variety of types of coffee. A cafe shakerato is an iced coffee made like a cocktail with a shot of liqueur. A cafe correcto is an espresso with a shot of brandy. Many times a day, I always order a cafe macchiato. Each time, it is prepared excellently. In America, I would be running the risk of getting a horrible latte caramel macchiato. Uniquely, McCafes are popular here. In fact, I ordered a really good cafe macchiato from a McCafe.
Interestingly, the food in Milan used to be fairly unhealthy. Then, the Expo 2015 shocked Milan. The quality food from around the world at the festival altered how people in Milan thought out about food. Now, the healthy and exotic cuisine is fashional in Milan. The food scene in Milan is diverse and popular.
Follow closely as I dive deeper into Milan and the nearby cities of Italy.
3 months, 90 days, 2160 hours, I got the wonderful opportunity to spend in the land of the Kiwis. The beautiful country southeast of Australia should not be overshadowed. New Zealand, the land of rugby, Lord of the Rings, beautiful beaches, bungy jumping, left-side-of-the-road driving, strong coffee, Maori Culture, etc., was my home for the summer.
The Kiwis (local people) welcome new travelers with open arms and open hearts. I interned for a non-profit organization, Recreate New Zealand, working with people with intellectual disabilities. Everyone I worked with, both participants and staff members, were the nicest people I have ever met. I become close friends with other staff members and interns. I even got to play on a soccer team for two games with a staff member (something I never thought I’d get the opportunity to do). One staff member’s family was kind enough to host a traditional “kiwi feast”.
My Global Theme and Challenge for my time abroad focused on engaging children in physical activity to give them a healthy start to life. While the population I worked with in New Zealand would not be considered children, but rather young adults, they are just as important of a population to be teaching healthy habits. Health and nutrition were not the main focuses of most of the programs (a few programs were focused on health habits), but all the programs did incorporate it one way or another. On weekend getaways, we would plan healthy meals. We would always try to get out for some physical activity during the day as well. Everyone enjoyed walking along the beach or in the bush (forest). I have learned that health encompasses more than just physical activity, but social interaction as well. Recreate NZ focuses on creating the environment where participants can receive and participate in a fun, social environment. Many of the participants have met their best friends through Recreate NZ.
New Zealand is a well-developed country like The United States and thus extremely similar. I easily made friends with my co-workers at Recreate NZ and always went to them with questions if something about the culture confused me. Interacting with the participants really strengthened my role as a leader. Everything I did was being watched and possibly copied by the participants. I was a role model they looked up to.
As a going away present and a thank you, Recreate NZ took me and another American Intern to the Auckland Harbour Bridge. They pushed us off the bridge!! Just kidding, we jumped and were connected to harnesses. Bungee Jumping is a great representation of my experience going abroad. I was nervous all up until the final step off the edge. But, looking over over the edge, feeling all the safety equipment, and knowing everything was going to be okay, I made the jump. I’d never been abroad, let alone on the other side of the hemisphere. The whole experience was a leap of faith and brought me out of my comfort zone, but I knew everything was going to be okay. And it was more than okay. It was amazing. Just like the bungee, I would love to do it again.
I had a wonderful experience abroad and I would give anything to go back to New Zealand to work with Recreate NZ again or to just see all the wonderful friends I made. I loved learning first-hand about New Zealand and being immersed within the culture. I am forever grateful for the Franke Global Leadership Initiative for giving me the opportunity to have the most amazing experience of my life.
I went to Peru to experience other mountains. I need mountains, having left Seattle to live in Missoula. I wanted to meet someone else’s mountains, so I trekked over a couple in the Andes and Cordillera Blanca. My guides shared their culture and reverence for nature in a mixture of English, Spanish, and Quechua. But walking was familiar. Arriving at the end of my trip, I realized, terrified, I am going to climb a mountain.
When we begin, the sky is dark. Dark enough to see the swath of pinpricks composing the Milky Way – without my contacts in! The ground is dark too, save for the round white beams emanating from our headlamps. Yana, Quechua for “black,” I learn. For twenty minutes we clamber over rocks in our moonboots, following the trail marked only by occasional rock cairns and the dirt of rocks crushed by those who’ve passed before. Today, I lead.
Reaching the glacier, we clamp on our cramp-ons and unhitch our pickaxes. Our guide scrambles up the ice face to set an anchor. “On belay!”
Hours of slow steps across thick, frozen snow follow. The altitude gives some of us stomachaches, others headaches, and makes our breathing heavy.
A bright light shines over the edge of a nearby mountain. Sunrise? But it is only 3 am. The moon reveals itself fully, outlining the enormity of the mountain.
My feet barely pass each other with each step. One of my partners does not feel well either though, so my pace suffices. We keep our heads down, sights set on following the pre-existing footprints that keep us on trail. By halfway, sunrise imbues the snow with a soft glow.
Here we rest. I cannot stomach food so I down a juice box. I try to keep my eyes open. My friend does not feel well at all. The summit may be a lofty goal for us. Our guide points to some hills, two-thirds of the way.
“If you cannot go any more, just say so and we can turn around,” He says.
“Let’s go there and then chat,” we decide.
We never had that chat.
Slope after slope rises in front of us. The severity of the steepness overwhelms me – how can I climb this? “Zero!” I call, as my heart climbs into my throat and my eyes well with tears. If I can just compose myself… I close my eyes for a moment. I am afraid. Yes. But, I have made it all the way here. “Clear!”
By the last ice wall, immense, we are too close to give up. Despite dwindling strength, we pull ourselves up twenty meters. We each collapse at the top of the wall, only to be roused to our feet. We are not there yet. With the guide tugging on the rope, I struggle to crawl up the last bit. I gave up hours ago on reaching the summit. I only agreed with myself to take the next step, the next hill, the next traverse. Now I’m here.
“You made it!” a friend at the top exclaims. “I didn’t think we would,” I mutter. I wanted to let the mountain beat me, but my team’s encouragement refused. They gave me the courage to lead, to bite down my fear, to remember the skills at my disposal to evade all the danger and thoughts the mountain threw at me. Laying on my pack, I cry at my exhaustion, my upset stomach, my aching limbs. I cry because I did not have faith in myself and yet I still succeeded. Pagcha, or paccha, Quechua for “waterfall,” I remember, making my own. I feel intense respect for Pacha Mama, Mother Earth, and what she can do for or to us.
The peak is beautiful.
My name is Julia Maxon, and over the summer I had the unique opportunity to intern abroad for a women’s empowerment organization in Rabat, Morocco.
When I first arrived in Rabat, I remember peeking through the faded curtains in my hotel room watching as the city moved fast below me. Blue petit taxis zoomed by trying to pick up their next rider, restless people were trying to squeeze onto the crumbling sidewalks just to shuffle past one another, and older men lined the crowded buildings below trying to take it all in just like me. It seemed as though this city stopped for no one, and I felt afraid to throw myself into the mix. As I peered out and looked at my surroundings, it all just felt overwhelmingly unreal. How could I be in Montana one day and Morocco the next? How could I be 5,250 miles from home? 5,250 miles from the ones I loved?
(Pictured: My first view of Morocco)
As weeks passed, I grew accustomed to the medina where I resided, which is the oldest portion of the city before the French colonized the region. The initial maze that was laid out before me felt increasingly more manageable each day. My loving host family was one of the main attributes that made me feel the most welcome throughout my entire experience. My host mom, Saana, especially always made sure I had enough food to fill my belly until I couldn’t eat anymore, and had a pot of mint tea always ready.
While in Morocco, I was also incredibly lucky to be able to experience Ramadan. Prior to my arrival, I had never fully experienced Ramadan or the traditions and culture associated with it. It was captivating to see how Ramadan took form in a predominantly Islamic nation. It was beautiful to see families like my host family preparing iftor, or the evening meal that breaks the daily fast, each night for people in the medina who didn’t have as much. It was moving to hear the evening prayer call echo throughout the streets of the medina, and to see so many people come together in an act of peace.
(Pictured: My host mom, Saana, leading the way home through the medina)
Morocco is a beautiful country filled with so much life and so much love, but like many other nations, it has its faults as well. As a GLI student, I was interested in looking at social inequality and human rights, or more specifically how the individual, community, organizations, and public policy come together to contribute to the inequalities women face in Morocco. The organization I interned with was a nonprofit specifically interested in the socio-economical development and empowerment of women in the Saharan region of Morocco. During my internship, I facilitated the NGO’s social media and social marketing department on various projects aimed at promoting and furthering the efforts of multiple couscous cooperatives throughout the Saharan region to improve its members’ quality of life.
By being able to have this experience, I was able to learn more about women’s rights in the Middle East, and create a proposed intervention plan based off of the needs that women in rural Morocco vocalized. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world, as it helped give me a broader perspective on women’s rights and human rights in a global context.
A few days before I was to depart from Morocco, I returned to that little hotel on the corner where I watched the world move before me. However, this time, I sat below with my back against the cement wall, studying the street move idly by.
This experience gave me a sense of renewed confidence that I could take on whatever life throws at me. Whether that be venturing out into a world where I may not necessarily know anyone nor speak the common language, or hopping onto multiple trains traveling solo to destinations unknown. By escaping my comfort zone and throwing myself in, I was able to experience endless possibilities and pursue unexpected adventures that I will never forget. ~
(Pictured: Me ready for my next adventure!)
During my third year at the University of Montana, I studied abroad in Málaga, Spain, a smaller city on the southern coast in a province called Andalucía. My experience was filled with ups and downs, challenges, and growth as well as unadulterated fun. My global theme and challenge is Culture and Politics. Living in Spain and traveling throughout Europe, I was lucky enough to meet friends from Spain, Portugal, France, the Netherlands, Germany, England, Ireland, Poland, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Austria, Hungary, Belgium, Denmark, Sweden, Morocco, China, South Korea, Argentina, Mexico, Colombia, and even other Americans. By interacting with cultures from across the globe, many of them completely different from that of the United States, I was exposed to cultural differences that opened my mind and challenged my perspective on life. I also noted similarities between myself and everyone with whom I interacted, and felt connected globally to other human beings, without regards to nationality or upbringing. Learning Spanish was also an incredibly humbling and eye opening experience. I immersed myself in the Spanish language and was able to gain so much understanding about the culture through speaking and listening to the language itself. This highlighted, again, both differences and similarities between Spanish and American culture. I also learned to be humble and listen more than I speak – at first because I couldn’t say much but by the end because I found value in listening to others before seeking for my own voice to be heard. I was exposed to countless different cultures and I was able to find a connection with nearly everyone I met, whether it be over something superficial or a deep, lifelong connection. As a leader, I believe it is important to listen to others and find common ground, while having an open mind and an understanding heart. Through living in a completely unfamiliar world I was able to hone in on these skills and develop them each day through different social interactions with new people. My experience abroad was never completely perfect – my computer, passport, and many other things were stolen, I struggled to find close connections at first, I was homesick and frustrated with Spanish culture at points, but the struggle is what makes the incredible moments stand out, and the experience so life-changing. My thirst to travel and experience new cultures, eat different foods, and meet new people has only grown stronger over the course of the last year, and I can’t wait to see how my cultural connections grow and change and to foster new ones as I use the skills I learned in Spain to explore every corner of the world and capitalize on new opportunities to see where life takes me.