From Milan to Winchester

I awake on Wednesday and quickly dress in my urban hiking gear: cargo shorts and comfortable shoes. I walk quickly over to the restaurant for breakfast, anxious to know what this place could serve for breakfast that could possibly top their dinner from Monday night.

Continental breakfast. Oh, well, that's okay. I see they have some croissants!

Meh. They aren't as good as the ones in Paris. Edible, but they aren't Cafe Pont Neuf :)

I finish and check out of the hotel, asking the desk manager to keep my bags for me until I return later. I meet my prearranged cabbie. We get stuck in traffic for a while, but he works around it. The fare is €33.

WTF??

Thinking it is a special morning-commuter rate, I pay with my Amex and descend into Estazione San Donato. I buy two tickets (one for the return).

Besides the Duomo one of the sights I want to see in Milan is the original Da Vinci painting, "The Last Supper" which is not painted on canvas but on the plaster wall of Santa Maria della Grazie church. I emerge 25 minutes later at Cadorna Estazione, find the church in my Milan tourist booklet and hike over a few blocks.

The tour is sold out. For the entire day. Noooooooo!

I add my name to a wait list in case of cancellations. Eventually the woman behind the counter calls me up and tells me a spot has opened. Awesome. I have about an hour to kill before my tour begins, so I head down the street and explore the surrounding neighborhood. It is a mix of low-rise business and residential that I am realizing is typical of European cities.

In one of the shops I buy a cool glass paperweight of the Duomo. I've needed one, so it's perfect. I return to the church and buy an audio guide because I assume the tour will be in Italian.

The tour is in English.

The room with the painting is in a climate-controlled room that is hermetically sealed with double-doors operated by a computer.

Da Vinci rules. An absolutely magnificent, huge, gorgeous work of art that, I learn, has undergone extensive restoration over the years.

We are herded out after only fifteen minutes to make room for the next group. I return the audio guide, explaining that the tour was in English. "We don't know what language the tours will be given in," says the woman behind the counter, which makes no sense to me at all.

I shuffle along with the rest of the tour group toward a bus. Hmm. I have a weird feeling about this. I peel off from the group and cross the street, watching them board the bus, then notice that they are all wearing similar badges. I realize that I crashed a private tour group.

I turn and head back toward the center of the city, intent on seeing the Castello Sforzesco. This landmark of Milan, although beautiful in its own right, is home to a number of Milan's museums. I poke around a while.

There are two more things on my Milan-to-do list: gelato and shopping. I have only about an hour before I need to catch the Metro back to San Donato. I duck into the first gelato shop I see and order a small lemon gelato. It does not disappoint. It exudes awesomeness.

I continue to walk toward the Galleria, delighting in every small spoonful. I start eyeballing the various boutiques, intent on finding something for Nancy that is affordable, but nice enough so that when she receives a compliment on it she can respond, "My husband bought it for me in Milan." :)

It takes the better part of an hour but I finally hit paydirt at one of the smallest shops I have encountered in the Galleria: Naracamicie. It has a VERY small collection, but I recognize the clothing immediately as totally Nancy's style, but very Italian too. Perfect. I select a stylish shirt and depart, waving good bye to the Duomo as I pass beneath its shadow and descend into the estazione.

From San Donato I grab a taxi back to the Borromeo. Fare is €10, confirming my earlier suspicions that I was ripped off. The hotel manager says that if I had taken down the cab number I could call the police.

Lesson learned.

I retrieve my bags and take the Borromeo's shuttle to Linate. My flight has been delayed because of bad weather at Heathrow. I sit at the gate, blogging about my week, occasionally checking out the hot Italian women that pass by.

I'm going to miss Milan.

From out the window of my British Airways flight, Lake Como is spectacular. Reminds me of Lake Tahoe. I make a mental note to save a lot of money to vacation there one day. Soon Lake Como passes and I marvel once again at the Alps. Later, I look down for my beloved Paris but clouds are everywhere.

BA is friendly and efficient. Suck it, US Airways.