Milan Day One:

Our train to Milan was probably the best train of our trip - fast and comfortable. I spent most of the trip eavesdropping on the somewhat monologue-esque conversation of what sounded like a retired college professor from California. He seemed relatively intelligent, but then some of what he said kinda rubbed me the wrong way in that "Oh well, Europe's got it all figured out and America's screwed" sort of liberal way." Given the way I've been bashing my fellow Americans all trip long, you'd think this guy would be my buddy, but not so. I don't think that Europeans have it all figured out - they just have different things figured out. To discount your own country's accomplishments is as dim-witted as displaying ignorance about the customs of other countries, in my view.

The Milan train station built by Mussolini is impressive. Chalk one up for the fascists. The Tourist Information counter guy was also the friendliest and most helpful of our whole trip. I suppose that the Milanese don't take tourism for granted the way that more popular destinations in Italy might.

Our hotel, located near train station, is considerably less impressive. It made a good impression at first with complementary internet access, free continental breakfast, and soap/shampoo provided (no other place we stayed did this), but we quickly realized that the bathroom had issues - a sink that wouldn't drain, uneven shower water pressure AND temperature, and a shower stall on the verge of collapse. It was one of the few times when we felt that Rick Steves' guide might have steered us better, but - then again - given our price point, we might not have done better elsewhere.

Milan's subway system is easy to navigate and takes you more places than the one in Rome. We found our way to the meeting point for our group tour with enough time to grab a quick lunch of pizza, salad, and far-too-expensive Cokes. The pizza was on par with Rome, and the restroom was nice.

The restaurant also had a very cool and efficient way of handling tabs. They gave us a smart card with our table number coded on it, so that they could just run it through a card-reader at the counter and we pay our tab (which had gratuity already added) quickly, without the whole requesting-a-check routine. After the relative chaos of some of the other places we'd visited on our trip, Lillie and I were already starting to appreciate Milan's businesslike feel.

After paying our bill, we had just enough time to walk across the street and board the bus for our only guided tour, dodging one of the many African-Italians trying to sell us those damn stupid laniard bracelets. I'm pretty sure that the bracelets were just a trick to get you close enough to them that they can pick your pocket.

Lillie and I had planned the rest of our sight-seeing on our own, but this bus tour was the only way we could finagle tickets to see DaVinci's "Last Supper," as - truth to be known - I had procrasinated too long in getting tickets for us to see it in a more "a la carte" fashion.

Our tour group took us through most of the main sites - La Scala for a bit of opera history, Plaza Vittorio Emmanuelle for high-end shopping, the Duomo for a look at an Italian Gothic cathedral, the Castello, and finally, the Last Supper. Truth to be known, I think that Lillie and I were both somewhat relieved to let someone else lead us around like sheep to these various sites, having done it for ourselves on the rest of the trip. The downside, of course, was that we were on a tight time-table and really only skimmed the surface of each site - but we were both getting a bit art/history-ed out, so it was okay.

The Last Supper was basically worth the entire cost of our bus tour alone, which is just as well, since it was the only reason why we bought tickets. It has a haunting but faded luminosity. We more or less just stood and stared at it during our alotted 15 minutes, ignoring our tour guide as she called out other details to the room. I also learned that Leonardo da Vinci was an illegitimate child from the exhibit outside. For some reason, this struck me. The little bastard was a genius.

After the tour, Lillie and I went out in search of one of several apperativo spots recommended by Annie. The first place we went looked VERY quiet - like closed - so we moved on to a place a few blocks away that had been recommended by good ol' Rick. Rick did better with this one than the hotel. The food was mostly just okay, but it was not bad for "free with mildly elevated drink price," and the drinks were REALLY good.

On Annie's recommendation, I tried a Negroni, which is named after a Florentinian and made from Campari (native to Italy), gin, and vermouth. It took me a while to "get" it from a taste perspective, but no time at all to get me wasted. I followed that up with one of the best mojitos I've ever had, and Lillie and I split a nice British pale ale.

The rest of the night was VERY short after that. We made our way home and to bed. I think I watched a dubbed broadcast of some movie with Noah Wylie from ER before passing out. It was some kind of adult Harry Potter librarian story. There was also some sort of music awards show and like three channels of phone sex infomercials with far more graphic images than any of the late night chat-line ads run on US television.

Milan Day Two:

Our complimentary continental breakfast took place in the basement, and consisted of packaged pastries, juice, and cappuccino/espresso made to order. The woman making the coffee was African-Italian. She didn't understand my bad Italian, so I started to wonder if maybe she was from a Francophone African country like Senegal.

After breakfast, I decided to use my half-hour of complimentary internet access to check my e-mail. All the while, this German kid was hanging over my shoulder, talking. It was really distracting as I was trying to hurriedly dispense with some issues related to business and my rental property. As I was nearing the end of my limited time, the kid says, "Hey, are you going to be on there all day?" as if I was his older brother, tying up the family internet instead of a customer paying for access. With gritted teeth and barely concealed annoyance bordering on rage, I tried to calmly explain to him that his hanging out and looking over my shoulder was an impedence to my progress, and that internet access here cost money and that I'd like to use my time in peace. Granted, my time didn't cost any money and was the result of a marketing promotion (mention Rick Steves at this hotel and you get 30 minutes' free internet), but it otherwise would have cost money there and nonetheless it wasn't cool. On my way back to my room, I calmed down by coining a term to describe a German kid like this guy: Deutschebag.

After getting cleaned up, we returned to the Duomo to climb up to its roof. We got a good cardiovascular workout by taking the stairs instead of the elevator, and then enjoyed a nice view of Milan that could only possibly be surpassed by the Pirelli tower, which is now the tallest building in town. It's fun to be up by the gargoyles and spires and to take in the northern Italian gothic grandeur of it.

As it happens, a stage was being set up on the roof of the cathedral - apparently some classical concert was going to be filmed there. At least, I hope that's what it was. In my cynical imagination, John Tesh or Yanni was going to show up in a few days and play some bland muzak there, and his fans would all "oooh" and "ahhh" over the location and how deep he was for picking it.

After the Duomo, we planned to do a bit of wandering. We ate pizza in the business district. While Lillie visited the ladies' room, I fended off an overly aggressive pigeon with foot stomps, clapping, and - eventually - thrown napkins. At first, the noise scared the bugger off. After a while, he must have figured that I was all sound and no fury, so I started wadding up the wrapper for my straw, and pegged him with it. The stupid pigeon thought it was food and tried to eat it, so I started wadding up more paper for a more deterrent projectile. I think Lillie came back and ended the escalation of hostilities.

We continued on our wandering, deciding to go to the park and take the long way home by foot. On the way to the park, we passed by Piazza di Stati Uniti d'America, which I believe was on Moscow Street - presumably some bit of Cold War-era irony. The park was filled with drunks and what seemed like homeless families, as well as the occasional rat.

We went home for a nap, then tried to figure out how we were going to tie a bow on our Italian experience while in Milan. Although we loved Milan, it's not really the quintessentially romantically Italian city in which to end a honeymoon. We went back out with the intention of going to a small family-owned restaurant recommended by Rick. Seeing that we had made too-good time on the train and the restaurant was not yet open, we decided to walk around more. In the process of walking around more, we ended up with a new plan - go to a bunch of different places and have little bites here and there.

The first place we went was a crepe place with a decent beer list but a "meh" wine selection. The second of these two attributes - the "meh" wine list - seems to be a problem in Milan. I've been assured - by people who should know - that there are places to drink good wine in Milan, but you have to know where to go. Guess what? We don't, and one of the reasons to visit Italy is to take the guesswork out of finding a decent glass of wine at prices lower than a can of Coke. Just about everywhere else we went had ample enotecas to supply our need, so we'd gotten spoiled.

After our snack, we headed back towards Plaza Vittorio Emmanuelle, and got some Grom gelato. We knew that there were locations in Florence, NYC, and Milan. We didn't know the address for the Milan location, so we texted our friends/family back home in the US, and several of them were kind enough to Google the address for us while we wandered around. Thanks to Cam, Alyssa, and Kristi! I had an enormous cup of the darkest chocolate gelato they offered, and it scratched my chocolate ice cream itch until.... Well, I STILL don't need to get any chocolate ice cream even a few weeks later, so it must really have done the trick.

We continued wandering, checking out the medieval commercial area and trying to figure out where to go to finish off our Italian experience in style, whether with wine or another Negroni. Lillie remembered that there was a cool hip neighborhood a bit further out on one of the subway lines, and - given our Trasteverre experience - that seemed like a good bet. We took the subway to way-out, and found a decent wine bar more or less by the station. We were tired enough to not work any harder at it than that, and enjoyed a nice glass of wine and people-watched a little bit. The bathroom there was mostly notable for being bright red, suffocatingly hot, and having what must have been 20 foot ceilings and 12-foot-high stall doors.

Getting off the subway stop nearest to our hotel, we decided to have drinks on Corso Beunos Aires. We found an inviting place to people-watch. Lillie ordered wine and I ordered a Garibaldi, since I share a birthday with him and the drink is made with campari. It turns out that a Garibaldi is a frou-frou girlie drink (by American male standards), but I really could have cared less. It was fun and had booze in it and I didn't give a damn. Potato chips and olives were brought to our table, which hit the spot for our developing late night munchies.

Lillie later told me that an aging hooker was making the rounds at this bar's sidewalk seating, getting blown off by all of the younger male customers with looks of revulsion. I must confess that I was oblivious to this drama, and a little disappointed to not have seen it. Rick's book had mentioned that aging hookers frequent the area around our hotel, so I feel like I missed out on an experience somehow.

Milan's cool Italian gothic Duomo

It's all about the Euros. Time is money.

Let's hear it for reserved seating on fast trains!

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele - it's the only shopping area in the world that I would photograph as much as we did.

Statue of Leonardo da Vincin in Piazza della Scala. Since we couldn't take a picture of his Last Supper, this will have to do.

Lillie thought the floor in the Duomo was cool. Actually, there were cool floors elsewhere in other Duomos and other sites throughout Italy, but this was the first time we really thought to take a picture. Weird.

You don't see a lot skyscrapers in Italy.

Lillie, hanging with the gargoyles on top of the Duomo

Duck... duck... duck...

Turkey! Or something that looks like it. It has a waddle.

If you spin around with your heel on the testicles of the bull in this mosaic, you get good luck.

Good luck for tourists, bad luck for the bull. Looks like the poor guy's been castrated.

Romulus and Remus, sucking on those wolf nipples. This image comes up more often in Rome, where it's part of the founding myth of the city.

The Simpsons seem to be pretty big in Italy. I dunno, would you accept a credit card with Homer on it?

Drinking my fruity campari drink, named after Giuseppe Garibaldi, the uniter of Italy, who also has my birthday (July 4th).

All material copyright Ethan Sellers unless otherwise indicated.