I wish I could give you a full (not fulsome) review of the wonderful northern Italian city of Milano, aka Milan. But we were only there less than twenty-four hours, so a limited review is all I can provide. Suffice it to say the city deserves a much longer investigation, and since it is an international air hub, look to visit it to begin or end your next European journey.
After Amsterdam, we booked an overnight train trip on Austria’s OBB Nightjet which took us in early evening from Amsterdam Centraal to a morning arrival in Zurich. There we caught a connection to Milan on a quite picturesque route over, through and under the Alps. More on those train trips will be forthcoming later on our trip.
We arrived in Milano Centrale in the mid afternoon and checked in at the Hotel Bristol immediately next door to the station. The Bristol is a throwback to classy European hotel style with well-decorated rooms, eclectic art, and a breakfast buffet to die for. We explained to the concierge that we were in town for just one meal, right now, which unfortunately falls between the Italian lunch and dinner hours. He directed us to an osteria, Mama Rossa’s, a few blocks away. It was fantastic, and the waiter couldn’t help himself but to give give us an amuse bouche, extra bread, extra wine, and a lesson in Puglian cuisine, once he learned that’s where we were headed next.
We waddled/staggered (did I mention the free apperitivo? The gratis limoncello?) out of Mama’s and jumped on the metro down to the Duomo: Milan’s majestic cathedral. The Duomo is quite literally a site to behold. Every corner, every window, every spire and doorway is covered with frescoes, carving, and religious symbolism. If you go–and you should–take a guided tour or get an audio guide and take your time. But we weren’t there for the tour. We just wanted to visit and pray.
I have mentioned previously that many European churches, basilicas, and cathedrals have tourist charges, but also permit “the faithful” to visit free of charge. The cost is just decorum and limited or no photography. We found the religious entrance and asked if we could go in and pray. The female guard took a look at me, wearing a small back pack and speaking English, and my wife, with a real camera around her neck. She said, “Not now. You should wait for the next Mass.” “Ok,” we replied, “when is it?” “Five-thirty.” “Great,” we said and walked around to a place where we could sit for thirty minutes and wait.
I watched as the guard let one group of locals (no handbags, no back packs, no cameras, speaking Italian) after another through to pray. I could tell she was watching me, watching her. She finally decided we must be legitimate, and she waved us over at five-fifteen. We found our way around to a small chapel directly behind the main altar, where we got the opportunity to attend a full Mass in Italian on a Tuesday evening. We made a point of thanking the guard on the way out!
Exhausted from our “relaxing” overnight train adventure, with bellies full of gnocchi, spinach, and meatballs and livers reeling from wine and spirits, we called it a night, knowing we were on the road again the next morning to Puglia.
This was just a hit-n-run visit; we knew that going in. Milan has so much art, fashion, culture and industry it demands your time. Still, it was a special meal, a special hotel, and a special Mass: of these great visits are made!
Keep up your travelogues of Europe! Wish I had spent more time in Italy…but there could never be enough. In 1970 Lorna and I drove over the Alps from our military abode in Munich with Lorna’s mom and teenage sister in the back of our new VW Squareback. Down from Tuscany the Apennines, ending in Rome. Her mom was Sicilian. She was loathe to use her fading Italian until I got in a jam trying to get a tank of gas. We missed Milan on the way back to Munich but I’ve always been enchanted with the Milan Duomo. A quick story about Mass in Hungary. I went there a lot–20 years ago give or take–during my time in our business. Lorna finally came over with me on trip four. We went to the cathedral (on the Pest side of the city, not St. Stephens in Buda) for mass. Time for communion. Lorna put her hand out for the host, but instead got a gentle slap on the cheek by the aged celebrant. She put her tongue out, he smiled. And that was it.
Jim, great stories! I remember what an adventure it was finding/getting gas in Europe back in the day. Now, all GPS and autopay. As to the Church in Pest, I always practice the famous saying “when in Rome” and watch what the locals do!
We loved Milan, and loving your travelogue, as well as food descriptions. Brings back sweet memories.