Milano

The door to our first class compartment slid open: Bigliettos, per favoure! The elderly women opposite ostentatiously removed an envelope embossed with Hotel Ritz from her bag. Withdrawing her ticket, she handed it to the conductor. Her message was clear ~ despite hard times some of us still have standards. We were ninety minutes from Milan, Italy's industrial, commercial and financial heart.

Our destination, Milano Centrale, modelled after Washington's Union Station, has had an interesting past. Due to an Italian economic crisis during WWI, construction proceeded very slowly, and the project, simple initially, kept changing becoming more and more complex and majestic. When Benito Mussolini became Prime Minister, he decided the station would represent the power of the fascist regime with a facade 200 metres wide and a vault 72 metres high. Today Centrale has no definite architectural style, but is a blend of many different schools including Art Deco, and is adorned with numerous sculptures. It dominates Piazza Duca d’Aosta, has 24 platforms and each day about 330,000 passengers use the station. Kim and I were but two that Giovedi.

Finding the way to your accommodation in a new city is a dilemma. It can be achieved by taxi, by public transport or by walking unfamiliar streets in search of an unseen building. Having previously opted for the latter in Lucca and Monterosso, in a Milan summer air-conditioned taxi was the only option. Sure you may be taken on a route far from direct, costing mucho euros, however this has not been our experience with fares including luggage averaging 10 euros. We soon entered the cool Zurigo Hotel located close to the city centre with the Doumo a ten minute walk away and the nearest metro station even closer.

Our first impression of Milan was not auspicious, with closed shops and deserted evening streets, however it was summer holidays. Feeling peckish, we enquired of somewhere nearby to eat. The concierge immediately produced a card promoting the nearby Manhattan ~ maybe it's a family favourite of his, maybe not. Tiring, we opted for his suggestion that surprisingly proved reasonable value and was not a complete tourist trap. A table of Japanese wearing bibs illustrated with crustacea prints were laughing uncomfortably as we left.

A great nights sleep was followed by breakfast taken in a section of a streetside coffee bar ~ a somewhat meagre offering compared to those previously enjoyed in Lucca and Cinque Terra. We slowly ambled up Via Mazzini in the direction of Piazza del Duomo past closed shops and mens' clubs promising a good time, if not now. Crowds of tourists had converged on the Piazza, photographing everything that moved. A guide put down his flag and commenced handing out entry passes to a bunch of American baby-boomers resplendent in their matching white runners and tour polo shirts. Long lines snaked towards the Gothic bronze doors of the cathedral where guards ensured decorum of dress was maintained. Not that that worried the depiction of San Bartolomeo Flayed, who carried his skin!

Seeking respite from the sun, Kim and I walked across the Piazza to Milans' ornate Neo-Renaissance shopping arcade Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. Inaugurated in 1877, it is a haven for visitors attracted to its stylish shops, cafes and restaurants. The crowded galleria floor is in the shape of a cross with an octagonal centre adorned with mosaics focussed on the crest of the House of Savoy. The massive glass dome and arcade roofs permit sunshine to illuminate the prestige stores of Prada, Louise Vuitton and Yves St Laurent. One can only imagine the fee McDonalds paid to gain their prominent position. Directly beneath the dome, a Franciscan friar assisted a couple of youngsters take an uninterrupted photo of the crest by engaging a couple of patrolling carabineri in conversation. Give James a ring, he will be finished work by now said Kim as we sought shade in front of AC Milans' fans shop. Can't talk Dad, We're at the footy and the Raiders are up twelve nil.

Wandering outside, we bought some more postcards and walked over to an impressive statue of Leonardo da Vinci surmounting a quartet of lesser genii. A vintage tram advertising Shrek the Musical rumbled past Teatro alla Scala in harmony with our stomachs. Walking up Via Dante post some retail therapy, we noticed police cars parked outside bistro Caffe Milano. If it's good enough for Carabineri.......... Risotto slightly al dente, that's how they do it, with vongole and tiny squid secreted within tomato-kissed waves of arborio grains. Yum, yum! We finished with sambuccas of the freshest variety housed in Krosno glasses, the perfect accompaniment to coffee and dolci. Departing, it would appear our waiter is hoping for a call from La Scala, serenading late-lunchers like us.

Hauling bags of soldes booty (up to 60% off), we headed in the direction of Corso Italia and our room at the Zurigo. Outwitting an orange tram en route to Fontana, we plunged into the air conditioned interior of Milan's cavernous Zara store. Laden down, I trailed Kim through various departments, conscious of the diminishing effect of my eau de cologne. I may have mentioned it's very hot! Respite was reached in our hotel room, more than adequate with a bath with shower. Cable tele, however, was again a mishmash of Italian gameshows, business channels and Republican Fox News. Trying on her two new pairs of shoes, Kim suggested a light dinner would suffice.

At the Football English Pub, you could order pints of Guinness and Tennants in addition to a selection of pizzas named after footballers. The Becker, Lineker and Pele looked promising but I couldn't go past the Osgood, named after Chelseas' dribbling genius of the 70's ~ most pizza parlours call it the Caprese. Lombardian walls were decorated with English memorabilia shipped in by the container load including banners, scarves and mud encrusted football boots. Obviously quarantine restrictions don't apply to the beautiful game. We sat at a table near a framed display of the 1973 home match between traditional rivals Derby County and Leeds United. Alongside the program cover and team lineups was a black and white cobwebbed Derby clacker signed by wee Archie Gemmill.

Streetlights illuminated the classic portals of Touring Club Italiano as we rounded the corner of Corso Italia leading to our hotel. Not making plans, but we may visit Como tomorrow. It's probably cooler by the lake.