DAY 21 – MILAN– THE DUOMO & THE LAST SUPPER

Not my photo, but the
prettiest pic I could find.

I started my day with a continental breakfast provided at the hotel – the first one so far this trip. Many hotels had begun eliminating them or charging for them before the pandemic, and nowadays having them included has almost disappeared. I rarely pay for them, because they seem overpriced – and I’d rather grab a nice breakfast at café, usually for the same price. The nicest part of it being included is that I could eat before leaving the hotel, which means that I can just start my day and not have to look for anything until late afternoon.

            One of the reasons I picked this hotel was its accessibility to public transport. There’s a tram right across the street, and the Metro (subway) is just down the block. I pulled out my 2,20 Euro and walked to the Tram. The driver didn’t accept cash, neither did the ticket machine (and neither the driver or the few passengers up front spoke English). Public transport is usually easy, so I went online (on my phone) and bought a 2-day pass. But they don’t email or text it to you – and there’s only ONE location in all of Milan to pick it up, and it’s clear across town. (None of the steps indicated this while purchasing.) So I figured I might as well see that part of town – but honestly NO ONE scans tickets, and I did have a receipt if I got stopped.

            I headed down to The Duomo (yes, apparently every city has one) – and this one is in the heart of Milan, and it’s massive. It’s as wide as a football field, and nearly 2 football fields long – it’s over 350-feet tall, and it took 6 centuries to build. This is a church – an enormous, and absolutely exquisite cathedral. And since I cannot do better, here are Mark Twain’s words on this beautiful cathedral:

"Toward dusk, we drew near Milan and caught glimpses of the city and the blue mountain peaks beyond. But we were not caring for these thing--they did not interest us in the least. We were in a fever of impatience; we were dying to see the renowned cathedral! We watched--in this direction and that--all around--everywhere. We needed no one to point it out--we did not wish anyone to point it out--we would recognize it even in the desert of the great Sahara. At last, a forest of graceful needles, shimmering in the amber sunlight, rose slowly above the pygmy housetops, as one sometimes sees, in the far horizon, a gilded and pinnacled mass of cloud lift itself above the waste of waves, at sea--the Cathedral! We knew it in a moment. Half of that night, and all of the next day, this architectural autocrat was our sole object of interest. What a wonder it is! So grand, so solemn, so vast! And yet so delicate, so airy, so graceful! A very world of solid weight, and yet it seems in the soft moonlight only a fairy delusion of frost-work that might vanish with a breath! How sharply its pinnacled angles and its wilderness of spires were cut against the sky, and how richly their shadows fell upon its snowy roof! It was a vision!--a miracle!--an anthem sung in stone, a poem wrought in marble! 

            Then on to see Leonardo Da Vinci's painting, The Last Supper. They've recently turned the chamber it's in into an almost hermetically sealed room. Only 15 at a time, and only for 15 minutes -- to make sure that the moisture and temperature remain ideal for the painting. It's even more breathtaking than I imagined. And there's something so gentle and loving about the way Christ is depicted. No doubt the artist was inspired by God.